It was 11PM, Pacific Standard Time. I had sniffed an entire tube of model airplane glue and I was now banging my head to the shreddin' bagpipe licks of the awesome Duncan McKechnie from his latest CD, "Dickie's Nasty, Pink Panties". As a night shift orderly at the Golden Years Convalescent Home, I figured I was pretty much footloose and fancy free after that crazy guy in the werewolf mask broke in here two nights ago and attacked, killed and partially ate all those elderly people. It had been pretty quiet around the place since that little incident and I was determined to make the best of it. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to babysit these Geritol-popping denture tokers, and my i-pod got rid of any of the residual "white noise" caused by the more troublesome of the resident coffin dodgers. I was enjoying a few gulps from a 2 litre bottle of Captain Morgan spiced rum that I'd bought on my way to work when the glue really started kicking my ass.
"Ahoy, matey!" I heard a distant voice cry out. I gazed around the hallway looking for the source. The voice beckoned yet again. "Ahoy, matey, it's me! Captain Morgan!" I gazed down at the label on the bottle in my right hand and was shocked to see the jolly pirate captain logo waving at me.
"Captain Morgan?" I asked, completely dumbfounded.
"Argh! That's me, me matey!" he answered with a wink.
"But how can you talk?" I asked the pirate captain. "You're just a picture on a rum bottle" I said, stating the obvious.
"Because you're high as a fucking kite on model airplane glue, me matey!" he informed me, also stating the obvious.
"And how!" I said.
"What does Captain Morgan say to his partner when he's having sex?" the captain asked.
"I have no idea" I answered.
"Looks like you've got a little captain in ya!" He roared, then laughed hysterically at his own joke. I stared at the pirate, slightly puzzled. "Don't ya get it, matey?" he asked.
"Not really" I answered.
"It's the slogan on the print ads, dipshit!" he said, slightly disappointed.
"Oh" I said.
"The little captain is my dick!" he explained.
"Yeah I get it now" I said. "Pretty funny, Captain Morgan".
"Yeah, well you'd never know it by your response, you fucking loser! Every time I tell that joke it fucking kills! You just sit there staring like a goddamn cadaver! Cut down on the fucking model airplane glue and you might save the few remaining brain cells you have left bouncing around in that skull of yours" he scolded.
"Yeah" I said.
The End.
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