Yarrr, listen to me tale, for each word I say be true:
Thar I was, dockin' me ship at the Dogpatch Saloon, trainin' me liver for B2B week. When next ta me I spied Blackbeerd Biker, back at port from a long voyage at sea. We settled in fer some grog while Bosom Booboo, who'd docked with Blackbeerd Biker, burst into th' bar with Seaman Buttercock close on 'is rear.
"Ahoy mates," sez I. "Yer Captain Thar She Blows Out be waylaid this eve. She sez to me: 'Skurvy-Skank Redemption! 'Tis time for ye to be revealin' yerself as not-so-secret Co-Captain of the Barrrbary Coast H3, because I be needin some help'." Me mates nodded in approval. "So I be layin this trail for ye, FHAC-U style" sez I, "and if yer cravin' a run I got an Albatross trail ye can do to the ol' Connecticut Yankee."
The scallywags wanted none of that, mateys. They was weary from tourin' the coast of Franzia. Bosom Booboo told such a tale of woe, I near believed 'e oughta be called Vagina Booboo, and I changed course to th' Sea Starrr. We et exotic dried mandarins so th' scurvy twouldn't get us, and I set sail ta chart our course.
The sea was angry that day, me friends. And the sun beat upon er backs! O, 'twas a torturous 80 degrees, and I longed for me home port in the mild peninsula. 'Long our course we sailed thru shark-infested seas 'n came upon the dangerous Kraken! When I finally docked at th' Sea Starrr, me friends were nowhere in sight. I took 'em for dead an' raised a glass to their memories.
At the Sea Starrr I rested me weary bones 'n soon spied World Wide Wench, veteran of the Barrrbary Coast H3. No Knickers, No Problem joined us, needin' respite from 'er mile-long voyage. Our port was invaded by th' visiting Cabin Boy Matt, who been blown offcourse in th' Bermuda Triangle 'n ended up at Montgomery Barrrt. But 'e not be due at that port til the next nightfall, 'n settled in with us for the eve. Me wayward friends at last arrived, 'n the bar was soon full of a rowdy bunch o' buccaneers. But when Billge Pump swaggered in all hell broke loose! Just then, a vicious backslider sailed by, blastin' us with cannonfire, and we recognized 'em as Shit Eating Mutineer. Me 'n No Knickers laid chase through dangerous seas to our port o' call, the Ramp.
The cool breezes 'ere healed our ragged souls, and the grog flowed freely, it did. But our bodies craved fer sustenance other'n hardtack. Broken Crossboner delivered a dogedoubloon he plundered from Don't Go Down The Hatch 'n we set off ta barter at the BBQN. Billge Pump veered off course, followin' the path o' the Albatross, and was ne'er seen again. Bosom Booboo cast out a message in a bottle for 'im, and whoe'er found it remains to be seen.
Thar was much feastin' n merriment at the ol' Magnolia BBQ and, feelin' feisty, we mutinied 'gainst Captain Thar She Blows Out. "I be in charge of this trail," sez I, "and what better way to best 'er famous short 'n shitty circle but by avin' NO circle t'all!" We drained er vessels and cast off fer home. Before settin' sail, I came upon Arrrr Shit! havin' escaped from entrapment by a vicious band o' scallywags. But his harrowing tale 'ad a grim conclusion, aye. Our brother Commodore Baster weren't so fortunate, and was kidnapped off to Hawaii.
An' thus tha Barrrbary coast invasion came to an end. I be suspectin' ta see me mates at our next pillage. Ya ne'er know when it might 'appen. Til then, raise yer grog high when ya hear a pirate shout, "Arrr ye?"