Aye matey, ye be wantin’ to hear this here tale, this merry yarn. Twas a year ago when I got my noggin a thinkin’ that since I’m a livin’ the life o’ California, I should get myself on the high seas o’ the Pacific with my feisty wench, Sophia, and see me some whale-watching, as is done around these parts around March.

So, off we join the other sea scumming tourists, land lubbers every one o’ them, on the vessel named “Rip-off” that took off from the Port o’ Redondo. The salty dog chugged its way to the deeper waters, the slowest schooner I’ve ever sighted, the journey as thrillin’ as tradin’ shots of warm grog or pissin’ off the poop deck. Well, me hearties, me tried to amuse himself by feeling the rockin’ of the scurvy, rat-infested ship, imagining a lovin’ moment with me buxom beauty down in the bilge.

“C’mere me beauty,” ye said to Sophia, me eyes gazin’ at her treasure chest, “Me hornpipe is itchin’ to play a tune.”

After she shot me down like a barnacle scraped off o’ rudder, me turned to the slimy captain o’ the vessel and said, ” Ahoy, mate. We’ve been on the seas for three hours and nary a whale. Arr. when will we finally see one?”

“Gar, don’t get your spyglass all filled with the doubloon, mate.” Me promise ye with the cold steel of my hook hand that we’ll see a member of the whale family. As Cap’n of this here good ship, me GUARANTEE that ye see a beauty of a whale, or ye get your coins returned.”

“Guaranteed? Our money returned? That offer is brave of ye. I’ll be expecting my booty if you don’t deliver, ye scallywag.”

“Return ye to the port bow, ye whoreson rat, and fix ye gaze upon the seas. I feel a whale due North.”

I returned to my pretty lass, who was lookin’ as bored as a salted herring.

“Avast, me proud beauty. No need to shiver ye timbers. The honest Cap’n GUARANTEES a whale sighting, or our precious coins are returned as fast as a pin in me britches!”

“Pin in his britches. Pin in his britches.” yelled the parrot on Sophia’s fetchin’ shoulder. “Brwaack, Neilochka’s not fast. Neilochka’s not fast. It takes him ten minutes to take off o’ wench’s brassiere.”

“F***in’ parrot,” me mumbled.

Another hour passed, and me lovely lass began to feel as sick as a scabbard full o’ lice sittin’ in Davy Jones Locker. Cap’n Wastin’ Time finally turned his pirate ship around and set sail back to Port o’ Redondo.

“All is good.” I told me Sophia.

My buxom beauty was in no mood for lovin’. “Ya scurvy cur who ortin’ t’ be keel hauled! This was the worst whale-watching trip ever!”

“At least we will get our booty returned,” ye replied.

Suddenly, the Cap’n lets out a loud roar. “Weight anchor! Hoist the mizzen!! Batten down yer hatches. Thar she blows! Thar she blows!”

Every scurvy rat on deck ran portside to see the spectacle. But it was nothin’ more than a dolphin jumpin’ out of the water and makin’ the sounds of a gin-drinkin’ mate three sheets to the wind.

“Skuttle me, Skipper,” I said, laughin’. “But that’s o’ dolphin, not o’ whale.”

“Sorry, mate. But if ye knew ye science, ye’d know that whales and dolphins are the same family!”

“What about ye GUARANTEE?”

“Read the small print on ye ticket, matey. It says “money back if ye don’t see a member of the whale “family.”

And then the Cap’n laughed a laugh so loud and hearty that it must have woken Blackbeard himself sleepin’ on the zenith of the moon.

“Sucker. Sucker.” said Sophia’s parrot. “Brwaack!”