Hey. My name is Donovan. Well, I have a title

I think because the title is extremely racist. I mean, you just don't SAY stuff like that. Donovan the Blackblade. Geez, even though I'm not black, it really upsets me to

read a title like that. What would mine be? Nick the Whiteneedle? What's next? Naming a brown horse Chocolate Thunder? Racists, the whole lot of them, thought the jockey.

"That's wrong!" he yelled to no one in particular. "That's wrong" he repeated, before leaving in a huff. If that's the way things were gonna be, he wanted no part of it. He went

out with a second huff. But the third huff stayed in the room with it's arms crossed, looking defiant. Since the clubhouse rules were "Three huffs and your out", and a quorom

Upheld the rule, the third huff blew hard and the whole clubhouse collapsed immediately. No survivors except the third huff, who became a parrot and repeated everything verbatim.

Bykuspid called the parrot 3rd Huffy and took it with him to the casino. Random people kept telling him that he did not look like a pirate. He wasn't trying to look like a pirate.

He was trying to win big at the Poker table. 3rd Huffy would fly from his shoulder and scan the cards from above, then whisper his findings to Bykuspid in parrotese. "Squawk," he

would say if he meant “Raise ‘em, they got nothing.” “Rawk” meant “Fold” and 3rd Huffy whistling meant “Call.” His rapid flapping of wings on Bykuspid’s shoulder was the signal for

"Cheezits! It's a raid!" I hastily grabbed my doubloons and tipped my tri-corner to the rest of the privateers. I swung off the yard arm just as the King's men boarded. Yo-ho-ho!