Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: Dancing in the Dark - Bruce Springsteen

Entry tags:

$pirate radio

Wine, Wenches 'n Song [4-6pm FST]

Barbossa was back in the studio eating apple pie.

How wholesome of him.

He flipped on the microphone at exactly 4pm...ish...and said, "This be Barbossa 'n it by time fer Wine, Wenches 'n Song, the time durin' the week when I be able to answer all of yer questions about makin' the wenches happy. Because I be quite the expert at it."

He spun around in his chair and continued, "Ye can also call in wit' song requests assumin' it be music I be not ashamed t' listen to. So that be no t' the screechin' opera-types, in case ye be wonderin'. Either way, the lines be open. Bother me."

He flipped on "Dancing in the Dark"--loud--and waited for the phone to ring.

ETA: Now we're in the middle of a Yanni marathon. There's someone to blame for that...

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He's got the Greatest Musical Collection Ever. You just have to convince him to play them.

Jamie calls in to make a one word request:

"FREEBIRD!"

And then he hangs up.

Barbossa sighed. "Thar always be one o' those in every crowd," he muttered.

He put the song on anyway.

When the song was over? Jamie called in again.

FREEBIRD!

*click*

"Once be more than enough!" Barbossa yelled back.

Jamie? Calling in again.

"Freebird?" he asked in a pleading tone.

"One more try 'n I'll be puttin' on a Yanni marathon and thar be no one but ye t' blame," Barbossa threatened.

Well who would pass up that opportunity?

FREEEEBIIIIIIRD!

"Ye be askin' fer it, whelp," Barbossa shouted, reaching for "Yanni: Live at the Acropolis" and a pair of earplugs.

"This be 'Santorini'," he said, pushing the button and cranking the music, way, way up. "I'd be apologizin', but I be a pirate o' me word."

'Santorini' was followed by the rest of the two-disk special, then the rest of Barbossa's Yanni collection.

The pain, the pain...

Because the pirate would never steer you wrong.

Unless it would amuse him.

Then, hell yeah, he'd steer you wrong.

"Hello Barbossa. Do you think it's okay for a girl to ask a boy our or should she wait for him to make the first move?"

"If we be in me own time, I be thinkin' ye awfully forward t' do such a thing. But in Fandom 'n in the 21st Century? Most o' ye wenches be heavily armed, not t' mention way smarter than the menfolk around here. Do what ye want."

"... Anything I want?"

"I be not sayin' armed robbery--unless thar be somethin' good 'n if so, call me off the air 'n we'll talk--but I be noticin' that the wenches in this town be havin' a better grasp o' what they want than the menfolk." Barbossa grinned. "Go ahead 'n ask fer what ye want."

"Well, right now, I want a snack, I'm kinda hungry."

Barbossa laughed. "Go get yerself some pie, then, wench."

"Hmmm pie!"

*click*

"Heya, Pirate. I'ma being a first time callah, long-time listener, mein ami," GOB said with any number of bad accents fighting for air time. "The-ya woman I'va had a thing wit' recently isa INSANE. More than usual, mate. 'ow do I deal with-a that without getting meself killed, guv'na?"

In his normal voice, he added, "And not booze this time. It's not going to work. Trust me."

"Without booze?" Barbossa sounded stumped. "I be leavin' the crazy ones t' my friend Jack normally, and he be gettin' slapped 'n stabbed a lot."

Pause.

"I be guessin' ye want t' avoid that. Mayhap if ye don't talk? Skip straight t' th' good part?"

GOB considered this. "Not-a gonna work, eh."

"She be worth keepin' around?" Barbossa asked. "She be soundin' awfully high-maintenance."

"Oh, she usually be worth it. But now she has me shoes," GOB added. "Theya were nice shoes."

Pause.

"Be ye wit' Callisto?"

"God no. But there's a funny story with her..." GOB started. "Let's just say that thanks to her there are agreements that still count no matter what anybody says."

"...good to know," Barbossa finally replied. "So scary shoe-stealin' wench who be not Callisto be not interested in skippin' straight t' the good part or gettin' drunk. Be she good lookin' at least? Becuase I be not seein' the appeal otherwise."

Completely forgetting about the accent thing, GOB said, "Oh, she's good with getting drunk. Just not with me. At the moment. I said a bad word. Definitely hot, though."

"Ye said a bad word? Which one?" Barbossa then rattled off every curse banned by the FCC for broadcasting. Hope they're not listening.

"None of those. 'Relationship'," GOB said. "She didn't care for it."

Barbossa spun around in a circle and spat. "I can see why," he replied. "I'd be stealin' yer shoes, too. Be ye the wench in this partnership, matey?"

"No. But I am the guy who sells rum to pirates who can't talk, so you should probably think about who you be calling a wench," GOB said.

Barbossa coughed. "I be always a big fan o' a man not afeared t' show his feelings. Or cry. Or write sappy rhymin' poetry, if that be yer thing."

Pause. "Mayhaps ye could try wooin' yer strumpet wit' the written word. Ye can hand it to her 'n then retreat t' a more strategic location outside o' her reach if she be feelin' a mite violent."

"She fell for that once," GOB said. "She's crafty enough to see through it a second time."

"You're no help today, pirate. Let's see what kind of service you get next time you stop by the bar." And then GOB realized that somewhere along the line he lost his anonymity. "That's Quark's: the bar that even the owner says isn't as good as Caritas! I'm the bartender there and in no way affiliated with Caritas. Bye."

And then he hung up.

Talk to the pirate in person! He might even offer you some apple pie.

But probably not.

Pirates aren't big on sharing.

Even though he's new in town it wasn't hard for Dr. Cox to know when someone had information that he needed.

He knocked on the door to the studio and when the image of Barbossa finally registered gave a strange look.

"Hey there big guy. Word on the street is you're the collector of dirt, gossip and innuendo here on this island."

Barbossa spun in his chair and grinned. "Aye, that be me. What might ye be lookin' fer, Dr. Cox?"

Of course Barbossa knew who he was.

"Well Aye be lookin' fer the most embarassing moments possible for a certain group of people on this island," Dr. Cox said handing over a list of people. "I understand you have the goods on everybody here at this place."

Barbossa glanced down at the names, pausing for a while on one in particular. "How much time be ye havin'?" he asked, tapping the student's name with a grubby finger. "That whelp be havin' his own highlight reel o' humiliation."

He grinned. "In others words, aye, I can be helpin' ye out. Thar jes' be the matter o' payment."

"I'll need it by Tuesday," Dr. Cox said with a swarmy grin and then pulling out a bottle of rum from behind his back. "Can we consider this a down payment? Give me the rest by Tuesday and you'll have a case of it. What do you say, Bluebeard?"

"Bluebeard be a cheap bastard who never be payin' his crew on time," Barbossa commented. He looked at the bottle of rum, then up at Cox.

He stuck out his hand. "We be havin' an accord," he said, grinning.

Dr. Cox gave Barbossa a firm handshake. "Thanks Matey. You make sure that you get that buried treasure and the seven castaways off of that wacky island, 'kay? See you next week with the rum."

Barbossa looked puzzled. "Aye. See ye on Tuesday."

Because that way you know that I'm done.

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Wine, Wenches 'n Song [4-6pm FST]

Make a song request

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"FREEBIRD!"

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FREEBIRD!

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FREEEEBIIIIIIRD!

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Ask for Advice

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Stop by the Studio

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OOC