Land, ho, cried the pirate. But the flying

Land, ho, cried the pirate. But the flying prostitute paid no mind. She wanted a way out of her life, and only Richard Gere could provide it. Gere captained the tug, and was

spending way too much time reminiscing about the piano scene in Pretty Woman. Encountering a flying hooker folded perfectly into Gere's fantasy. His tug smashed the pirate's ship

's ocean ladder. The somali captain flew out of his cabin. Through his binoculars he saw a white man with salt and pepper hair looking very boring. He called for his high powered

assistant to take a look. As he passed the binoculars he wondered, what is that man doing out there all by himself?

why were his pants donw? i wonder wht he could be doing... by himself. i yelled

He went into the garden pulled down his pants and yelled "i am the master of the universe and its creations and its inhabitants" I responded...

"Yes, sure. Come here and show me your creation!". As soon as he happily aproached me, I hit him with a shovel, sublty hidden behing my big figure. He then started

to bleed from his nose, falling to the ground theatrically, as artists tend to do, even the odd ones like him. Congratulating myself on my subtlety, I turned to leave. But suddenly

a critic came into our fold. "I have seen this all before, how very cliche." he drolled as he tapped on his blackberry. With a piledriver, I conveyed my opinion.