The tale of Edward William Redbeard

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Once upon a time I was sitting in a cozy little folding camp chair way out in the woods somewhere scribbling nonsense in my notebook and trying to think of story ideas, when suddenly out of nowhere a man dressed like a pirate emerged from the forest, strode up to me, drew his sword, and shouted,

"Ahoy mate! Me name be Edward William Redbeard, and I be here in search of a very fine story, the finest in all the land I say! If ye don't write me a wonderful entertaining tale right here and now, I shall run thee through immediately with me cutlass!"

So, not wishing to perish, I said,

"Okay,"

and as Redbeard stood there making a show of waving his sword around and twirling his waxed mustaches, looking quite ridiculously out of place, I got right to work:

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Once upon a time there was a big dumb bully named Edward William Redbeard who liked to dress up as a pirate and go around threatening to kill people with his big dumb sword if they didn't write stories for him. Evidently he did this because he was massively insecure, mostly insane, and quite frankly far too dull to write a decent story himself. The only problem with this dreadful pastime of his was that—

"Shiver me timbers,"

roared Redbeard,

"now what the devil be all that doggerel about? I ordered thee to write me a wonderful and entertaining tale, but what ye've gotten into here be nothing short of insulting! Why, now I believe I be liable to cut thee down right there where ye sit if that's the best ye can do!"

So, once again not wishing to perish, I said,

"Sorry, one sec,"

and made the minor but necessary edit I'd halfway begun before Redbeard's rude interruption:

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—the only problem was that one day he made the mistake of approaching an omniscient, omnipotent narrator named Hive account@brandt who knew Redbeard better than Redbeard knew himself, and just as Redbeard prepared to strike a lethal blow Hive account@brandt decided that for the purposes of this story the aforementioned cutlass was from this point on going to be a pink feather boa instead.

And so it was that with all the speed and accuracy of a practiced swordfighter, Edward William Redbeard struck Hive account@brandt a tremendous blow with a pink feather boa. He stood there for a bit looking just as confused now as ridiculously out of place before, then realization settled in and he screamed,

"Bloody hell, not a pink feather boa! Pink feather boas be me greatest fear in life, although I had not realized that fact until this very moment, but it makes sense considering me mother was very abusive to me and used to wear pink feather boas all the time!"

And I said,

"Yep,"

and then, trembling in terror, Redbeard hurled his pink feather boa into the bushes—or rather, he hurled it in the general direction of the bushes, as pink feather boas are not naturally all that hurlable and do not usually fly too far.

Edward William Redbeard stared first over at the pink feather boa, then at Hive account@brandt, then back at the boa. Back and forth went his glance as he attempted to process, in the span of mere seconds, decades of unexamined inner turmoil and the violent coping mechanisms he'd unconsciously developed as a result. Then anger entered his eyes and held there, and he locked his gaze back on Hive account@brandt.

"Play with the puppetstrings of me unresolved childhood trauma, will ye! This be outrageous! If I cannot strike thee down by the sword then I shall choke the life out of thee with me own two hands!"

Thereupon, as Redbeard reached out to take hold of Hive account@brandt's throat entirely consumed by suffocating intent, I said,

"Actually that's no longer possible, as I've decided your hands are cuffed behind your back now."

It was truly a sight to behold. Edward William Redbeard's greasy pirate face now carried a look of overwhelming discombobulation, for his hands were indeed not only behind his back, but cuffed as well.

"What the devil be this dark magic?"

yelled Redbeard, who is for what it's worth no longer wearing pants,

"and what the devil have ye done with me trousers? I swear by the immaculate mother of god I just had on me favorite pair of Mongolian silk tights not one bloody minute ago! And by jove! Being seen in public without any pants on be me second greatest fear in life, I've just now at this very moment realized! This also makes perfect sense considering all the things me father made me do when I was but a boy!"

As the mentally unstable swashbuckler before him began hopping around like a human pogo stick frothing at the mouth and muttering threats of no small consequence, Hive account@brandt got up out of his camp chair and went over to where the pink feather boa had come to rest. He picked it up, and then he wrapped it several times around Redbeard's neck and left it tied there nice and snug like.

"Farewell, mate,"

I said, and then I walked away.

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And such is the tale of how a homicidal psychopath named Edward William Redbeard was finally brought to justice, called in to the authorities by a couple of hikers who discovered him all alone way out in the wilderness handcuffed pantsless and ranting,

"Get it off me! Please, someone, get it offfff meeeeeeeeeeeee!!"

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_{4-12-22. Storytelling 101, Ch. 8 "Case Studies," § 3: How Not To Tell A Story.}