My secret dream

One day, when the time is right, I will set into motion a plan of mine- one that has been stewing inside me since I was a young lad. In order to accomplish my goal, I must cut all ties to the world I know. Regrettable, but necessary if I am to succeed. First, I will submit the following letter to my employer:
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"Dear sirs,

I regret to inform you that, two weeks hence, I will be resigning from my position at this company. It is with the deepest regret that I must do this, for you have heretofore provided me with ample opportunities and challenges, and I hold you all in the highest esteem. Despite this, it is time for me to pursue new journeys and achievements. By this, I mean that I am becoming a pirate.

The chance did not occur to me until I found myself amongst the crew in a local tavern. There, they swore to sail under my flag until death or capture. We will seek our fortunes and fame on the wine-dark seas, rather than in the neat cubicle that you provided me during my tenure at our company.

I can not say for certain what if fortune will favor me: nonetheless, I feel that once I have the rolling deck of the Bloody Mary's Revenge beneath me, the sea salt stinging my eyes and the Jolly Roger above me, I will have at last found my true calling.

Fare thee well,
Captain Tom "Tarbeard" Flint

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Next, I will have to break the news to my wife. This will be the most difficult thing, because she'll probably start crying and then I'll have to punch her, because I can't stand to see a woman cry because of bad news- however, I love to see them cry because of physical injury, so it will work out well. Once she is assured that I will return with a fortune in bullion and jewels, and my love stronger than ever, it will be time to notify my friends and family, and then head to the seas.

Ah, piracy! Even the word connotates images of well-tanned corsairs sailing the Spanish Main in search for hapless Spanish merchantmen laden with treasure and exotic goods stolen from mystical natives. And that's a lot for a single word. True, pirates are nothing more than robbers on ships, but they're cool robbers, and they're on ships. And ships are cool, because they're made of wood and have cannons. Well, not all ships, but the good ones do.

So you may suffer a little scurvy or keelhauling or being-murdered-by-your-mutinous-crew or caught-and-hanged. It's a small price to pay for riches beyond your wildest dreams, and as much grog as you can drink. Plus, you can wear a poofy white shirt and a colorful sash, which especially shows your disdain for contemporary 16th-century society. Add an accessory, like eyepatch, hook hand, peg leg or parrot, and you're set. Of course, you'll have to give up your eye, hand, leg or dignity (in that order), but I consider it a fair trade.

Some may try to persuade me otherwise; that it's far more lucrative to become a cowboy or viking. But my mind is made up, and I will not rest until my dream is a reality. One day, I will realize my dream, and then I will be staring off the side of my ship, watching the sun melt into the calm and shining sea, the only sound the wind and the wood.