On Sunday, Brownbeard joined Lloyd and Louise
at their church, Saint Salt Peter’s Sanctuary for
Sea Sailors. Naturally, the pastor’s sermon was on
Jonah and the whale. After lunch, Brownbeard and
Lloyd walked every inch of the For Sale. On
Monday, Brownbeard went into work and called
upon Frederick W. Snookie to apologize for
having disappeared over Wednesday, Thursday
and Friday. He also informed Mr. Snookie that he
would require the remainder of the day off, and
that two weeks hence, he would be leaving
Snookie, Pitts, and Fropenheimer and the world of
accounting for good.
“First of all young man,” said Mr. Snookie in a
very stern and somber tone, “When a professional
such as yourself becomes ill, you should send
word immediately to the office. We were quite
worried about you. If you did not have such talent
and potential, you would have been terminated
already.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Secondly, I am not at all sure I believe your
story.”
Brownbeard paled and his heart raced. He may
have just given notice of his intention to leave the
firm, but he did not want confrontation. Nor did he
want the truth, whatever that truth may be, to come
out.
“We sent two of your co-workers to your room
to locate you! You were not there! Then they went
to several nearby doctors’ offices and Charleston
Hospital. Not a single doctor or nurse had seen a
person fitting your description. Perhaps you
decided to have yourself a nice long weekend at
the beach? Must have been some wild parties to
go and lose an eyebrow!” said Mr. Snookie.
“No, Sir, you see I—”
“Save it, Mr. Brownbeard,” said Mr. Snookie.
Brownbeard looked down at his feet. He was mad
at himself. A pirate captain should not let himself
be talked to in this manner.
“Lastly,” continued Mr. Snookie, “as you
prepare to throw away a promising career with our
firm, what do you plan to do with yourself, if I
may inquire?”
Brownbeard did not relish telling Frederick W.
Snookie what his real plans were. He was sure
that Mr. Snookie would laugh heartily at such
foolish notions. But then, let him laugh, thought
Brownbeard. What do I care? Let the old geezer
have his corner window office with oak desk and
leather, high backed chair. Let the crusty goat
have his three hot chocolate lunches and four o’
clock tee times. It was a stale routine. No longer
was any of it a temptation to Brownbeard.
Brownbeard wanted to live life the way it was
meant to be lived—on the edge, with a sense of
adventure. Laugh, Snookie! Laugh! I care nothing
for your bone dry tedium of number crunching and
book balancing, thought the pirate captain.
“I’ve procured a boat. I am a pirate captain in
search of a crew,” announced Brownbeard with
confidence and authority.
Frederick W. Snookie looked at Brownbeard,
his face void of expression.
“Well, I’ll be!” Mr. Snookie finally said. “I do
believe you’re serious. That is remarkable!”
Mr. Snookie sat down heavily in his chair, not
taking his eyes off his former employee.
Brownbeard did not say a word.
“There was a time when I dreamed of being a
pirate.” Mr. Snookie spoke the words softly. “Of
course, that was a while ago. I’ve given up those
crazy thoughts. You on the other hand, this is the
time in your life to go for it. Young. Single.
Bright. Resourceful. Yes, I could see such a
thing.”
Brownbeard looked at Mr. Snookie in
amazement. “I am looking for crew members, Sir.”
Mr. Snookie laughed. “An earlier time,
perhaps. You found me forty, make that thirty
years too late. Besides, I doubt Mrs. Snookie
would go for those kind of shenanigans. Not now
anyway. But you’ll make a great pirate captain
Brownbeard. I sense it. Especially with that
missing eyebrow. Makes you look tough. Macho.”
“Really?” asked Brownbeard. “I was planning
on having a false eyebrow put on.”
“What! Are you crazy? No my boy! Leave it
be. I’m telling you, you look fierce. That’s a good
thing for pirating.”
“Hmmmm,” thought a perplexed Brownbeard.
“Lloyd and Louise say I look goofy with a missing
eyebrow. Mr. Snookie thinks I look fierce. What
should I do?”
“On behalf of everyone at the company, I wish
you all the best Brownbeard,” said an admiring
Mr. Snookie. “Send us a postcard once in awhile.
Keep in touch.”
“Thanks. I will,” said Brownbeard.
They shook hands. And that was that.
at their church, Saint Salt Peter’s Sanctuary for
Sea Sailors. Naturally, the pastor’s sermon was on
Jonah and the whale. After lunch, Brownbeard and
Lloyd walked every inch of the For Sale. On
Monday, Brownbeard went into work and called
upon Frederick W. Snookie to apologize for
having disappeared over Wednesday, Thursday
and Friday. He also informed Mr. Snookie that he
would require the remainder of the day off, and
that two weeks hence, he would be leaving
Snookie, Pitts, and Fropenheimer and the world of
accounting for good.
“First of all young man,” said Mr. Snookie in a
very stern and somber tone, “When a professional
such as yourself becomes ill, you should send
word immediately to the office. We were quite
worried about you. If you did not have such talent
and potential, you would have been terminated
already.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Secondly, I am not at all sure I believe your
story.”
Brownbeard paled and his heart raced. He may
have just given notice of his intention to leave the
firm, but he did not want confrontation. Nor did he
want the truth, whatever that truth may be, to come
out.
“We sent two of your co-workers to your room
to locate you! You were not there! Then they went
to several nearby doctors’ offices and Charleston
Hospital. Not a single doctor or nurse had seen a
person fitting your description. Perhaps you
decided to have yourself a nice long weekend at
the beach? Must have been some wild parties to
go and lose an eyebrow!” said Mr. Snookie.
“No, Sir, you see I—”
“Save it, Mr. Brownbeard,” said Mr. Snookie.
Brownbeard looked down at his feet. He was mad
at himself. A pirate captain should not let himself
be talked to in this manner.
“Lastly,” continued Mr. Snookie, “as you
prepare to throw away a promising career with our
firm, what do you plan to do with yourself, if I
may inquire?”
Brownbeard did not relish telling Frederick W.
Snookie what his real plans were. He was sure
that Mr. Snookie would laugh heartily at such
foolish notions. But then, let him laugh, thought
Brownbeard. What do I care? Let the old geezer
have his corner window office with oak desk and
leather, high backed chair. Let the crusty goat
have his three hot chocolate lunches and four o’
clock tee times. It was a stale routine. No longer
was any of it a temptation to Brownbeard.
Brownbeard wanted to live life the way it was
meant to be lived—on the edge, with a sense of
adventure. Laugh, Snookie! Laugh! I care nothing
for your bone dry tedium of number crunching and
book balancing, thought the pirate captain.
“I’ve procured a boat. I am a pirate captain in
search of a crew,” announced Brownbeard with
confidence and authority.
Frederick W. Snookie looked at Brownbeard,
his face void of expression.
“Well, I’ll be!” Mr. Snookie finally said. “I do
believe you’re serious. That is remarkable!”
Mr. Snookie sat down heavily in his chair, not
taking his eyes off his former employee.
Brownbeard did not say a word.
“There was a time when I dreamed of being a
pirate.” Mr. Snookie spoke the words softly. “Of
course, that was a while ago. I’ve given up those
crazy thoughts. You on the other hand, this is the
time in your life to go for it. Young. Single.
Bright. Resourceful. Yes, I could see such a
thing.”
Brownbeard looked at Mr. Snookie in
amazement. “I am looking for crew members, Sir.”
Mr. Snookie laughed. “An earlier time,
perhaps. You found me forty, make that thirty
years too late. Besides, I doubt Mrs. Snookie
would go for those kind of shenanigans. Not now
anyway. But you’ll make a great pirate captain
Brownbeard. I sense it. Especially with that
missing eyebrow. Makes you look tough. Macho.”
“Really?” asked Brownbeard. “I was planning
on having a false eyebrow put on.”
“What! Are you crazy? No my boy! Leave it
be. I’m telling you, you look fierce. That’s a good
thing for pirating.”
“Hmmmm,” thought a perplexed Brownbeard.
“Lloyd and Louise say I look goofy with a missing
eyebrow. Mr. Snookie thinks I look fierce. What
should I do?”
“On behalf of everyone at the company, I wish
you all the best Brownbeard,” said an admiring
Mr. Snookie. “Send us a postcard once in awhile.
Keep in touch.”
“Thanks. I will,” said Brownbeard.
They shook hands. And that was that.
The Adventures of Short Stubbly Brownbeard
Alan J. Levine
* * *
Chapter Twelve - An Uncomfortable Meeting
Buy yer hard copy
at . . .
at . . .
Want to support
children's literature?
That's great! But
instead, why don't you
go to the followin'
links to buy yer own
miserable copy of
Brownbeard and
support Pirates
Anonymous? We've
been assisting pirates
with mental health and
hygiene issues since
1633. Brownbeard is
also available to
schools and libraries
through wholesalers
like Follett, Ingram,
and Baker & Taylor.
children's literature?
That's great! But
instead, why don't you
go to the followin'
links to buy yer own
miserable copy of
Brownbeard and
support Pirates
Anonymous? We've
been assisting pirates
with mental health and
hygiene issues since
1633. Brownbeard is
also available to
schools and libraries
through wholesalers
like Follett, Ingram,
and Baker & Taylor.
