tyler_gone: (at desk)
Sunday morning, Tyler had decided to see what support groups on Tortuga were like.

He didn't find any.

He did find a bunch of pirates, and he was grinning rather wildly as he opened his office. Pirates knew how to live and how to fight, and pirate wenches, well, that was a story all its own.

Touching the tender spot on his ear from which a heavy gold hoop now dangled, he ran his tongue over a bloody spot on one lip as he settled in to plan his lesson for the week.

His office door was open.
tyler_gone: (piss off!)
The pirate sneered as he blocked Tyler's path on his walk through town. "You make me want to puke," he declared, sword aloft.

"Puke," Tyler said mildly, arms crossed. "I'm not stopping you."

This seemed to confuse the pirate. "I SAID, you make me want to puke, you scurvy specimen."

"And I'm supposed to be shocked and offended?" Tyler shrugged. "You aren't much to look at either, but we're all just the same decaying organic matter. Like puke."

"AVAST!" the pirate cried, going to smack Tyler lightly with the sword. "That's what ye get for bein' so ugly!"

Tyler grabbed the pirate's wrist, swatting away the sword, and spoke in a harsh tone. "Look, matey, you try to fight me and you will be in too much pain to think about puking. We clear?"

"Clear," the pirate assented sullenly, sheathing his sword. "Sir."

Tyler whistled a sea shanty as he resumed his walk.

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Tyler Durden

April 2015

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