But I ain’t walkin’ no plank

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 26/10/2011 (5204 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

A VAST, ye scurvy sea dogs an’ lilylivered landlubbers, Cap’n Doug be happy as a drunken clam this very day.

I be feelin’ this way because you, th’ readers o’ this newspaper, be havin’ decided that I ortin’ ta dress up like a scurvy gentleman o’ fortune this very evening.

What I’m trying to say is that the geniuses in our marketing department have calculated the results of the contest we unveiled last week in which we asked you, in a sincere effort to win one of five prize packages, to vote on which of four dorky Halloweenstyle costumes I should be forced to wear tonight to Boo at the Zoo.

The journalistic concept here is that, decked out in the most popular costume, I am now required to bravely prance around the zoo from 6 to 9 tonight and promote peace and goodwill by handing out candy and a few random prizes.

For the record, a scurvy 112 readers be castin’ ballots, and here’s how the voting went: Fourth Place — the sexy Zorro costume (16 per cent); Third Place — The ultra dorky Elvis costume (20 per cent); Second Place — The Cowardly Lion costume (21 per cent); and First Place — The swarthy Pirate Captain (42 per cent).

It is difficult, using mere words, to express how happy I am the pirate outfit was far and away the most popular choice, but I will give it a shot: I am very, very happy.

On the one hand, being a typical guy, I am always willing to dress up like a pirate, because it allows me, with complete impunity, to wander up to women I have never met before and, in me best imitation of a scurvy bilge rat, growl: “ARRRR, LASS, PREPARE TO BE BOARDED!”

On the other hand, I cannot begin to tell you how relieved I am that on a frigid fall evening I will not have to appear in public pretending to be Elvis by squeezing into an electric-blue spandex jumpsuit with red, white and blue sequined trim and a red cape, which, like the ultra-skintight jumpsuit, has a guitar embroidered on the back.

To say this Elvis get-up was a little on the tight side is like saying the Titanic sank after taking on a certain amount of water.

There would have been a very real chance that, while attempting one of Elvis’s trademark karate moves, this jumpsuit would have exploded with enough force to shatter windows in the monkey house.

So I’d like to personally thank you readers — or at least 42 per cent of you — for voting for the pirate costume, which consists of a bejewelled vest, a sequinned captain’s coat with lace sleeves, a pouffy shirt, a tri-corner hat, knee-high leather boots, a black sash and a pirate pistol.

Speaking of prizes, our marketing geniuses are busy picking five winners from the folks who voted for the pirate costume and they’ll get cool prize packages containing a family pass to Boo at the Zoo, a double pass to a Free Press movie premiere, a movie DVD and a signed copy of my book, Bite-Sized Doug.

I had a pretty good idea the pirate costume would sail away as the top vote-getter, partly based on the salty comments readers left online, but also because some readers felt compelled to yell out their choice while I was in the checkout line at Safeway.

“HEY, DOUG, I THINK YOU’D MAKE A VERY NICE PIRATE!!!” one friendly woman ahead of me in line suddenly shrieked the other day, causing me to yelp in terror and drop my double-stuffed Oreos on the floor.

I am proud to say I have dressed like a pirate on several occasions, including once when my wife threatened to keelhaul me because I coughed up $250 to rent the Pirate King’s costume from the Pirates of Penzance to attend a charity dinner, at which I consumed far too many “flagons of yon devil’s brew,” if you catch my general pirate drift.

The main pirate point is I am looking forward to seeing all of you tonight at Boo at the Zoo. I do not have a pirate ship, so you’ll find my crew loitering near the Rest Stop Tent.

The marketing people refused to rent me a parrot, so I will instead be accompanied by my two favourite mates — Scoop, our rolled-up newspaper mascot, and the Swarmjam Bee, the mascot of our groupbuying site. And, kids, don’t forget to talk like a pirate when you ask me for candy.

You: “Ahoy, Cap’n Doug, fork over a sweetie for me guts have got no nourishment!”

Me: “Shiver me timbers, ye tiny terror, let your stomach worm gnaw on this tasty treat!”

As for all you moms and dads, I think we can probably get by with just a friendly handshake. But you should probably watch out for my hook.

doug.speirs@freepressmb.ca