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'Twas midnight off the Barbary coast in a howlin' storm to rouse the damned, and we were makin' the sheets fast when old blue-eared Bruce the Butch himself comes up to me. I hears you've been drinkin' me rum, he says. Well, I knowed it was a lie straight off, t'old bugger were as deaf as a post, and that not a listenin' post. Well, says I, now there's a pretty tale. What? says he. Well, I bellow into his ear, now there's a pretty tale. Alright, alright, man, he says, there's no need to shout. So what have you to say for yerself? Well, I says nothin'. He says nothin'. Pretty soon the silence is deafenin', you cannot hear yourself think for the way we was refrainin' from turnin' the air blue. Trina Sputum speaks up then, I seen 'im drinkin' is rum, says she ambiguously. Blue-ear grabs her by the throat and snarls, don't you dare interrupt me never no more. Anyway, then the captain comes up on deck and asks if we've seen his lipstick, and to cut a long story short, I were lucky to escape with only my big toes gone.