Ahoy and howdy there, maties. It be me, Coco Colado the pyrate, sailin' into port with another galley full oh rootin', tootin' fireworks. But this ain't yer' average load of 4th of July fun, oh no. They be the worst of the worst, the most landlubbin' of the landlubbin'. Yep, I fancy callin' 'em fire-no-works. ARRR! But I can hear ye' askin', "Oh, Coco Colado, why ye' be wastin' yer' doubloons on fireworks ye' don't even like?" Well, lemme explain, ye' inquisitive dog. I be a sucker 'fer fancy packagin'. Every time I be pillagin' a port's fireworks armory, I be blastin' right past the good stuff. Bottle rockets? Yarrr. M-80s. Yarrr. A firework shaped like a helicopter? YEEEEEE HAAAAAA! I guess it be the cabin boy in me.
I be havin' enough doubloons and landlubbin' fireworks to last me until I be takin' that walk off the plank and into Davey Jones' locker. ARRRR, but I be digressin'! I ain't the sort of pyrate that be indulgin' in self reflection. On to the fire-no-works!
Walk the Plank?: This flaming bilge rat ain't be worth the price tag (I be pillagin' mine). Its circle of explosions be more eye catchin' than a golden cutlass but its whistles won't strike fear into even the most weak hearted heartie. This hot tub party is colder than the north Atlantic and be more borin' than a tavern that be servin' non-alcoholic grog. While it be an impossibility, Hot Tub Party should be made to walk the plank twofold.
Walk the Plank?: ARRR! I be havin' a soft spot in me black pyrate heart for these teeny tiny tanks. They roll across poop decks with ease and droppin' a dozen of 'em on sleepin' buccaneer be mighty fun, me buckos.
Walk the Plank?: Yarr, lemme tale ye' a sad tale. I be findin' ol' Larry marooned on tiny desert isle off the coast of Venice Beach. This firework be spendin' too much time in the sun and be drinkin' too much coconut milk, if ye' know what I mean. He was mighty grateful when me men took him aboard. We all be singing "Yo Ho Ho" as we set sail for Venice's boardwalks. All be good and well. But later, as I tried my pyrate charms on a lass on rollerblades, he be havin' no quarter for playin' wingman. She be fallin' right away for his "flaming balls." To be makin' a long story short, that old salt is livin' with her in Malibu. The lass be richer than the queen of twenty Englands. Yarrrr. Se la vie the old folks be sayin'.
Walk the Plank?: I be findin' a treasure trove of Choo Choos while pilagin' the Virgin Isles. They ain't be so "virgin" when I be through with 'em. ARRRR! ARRRR! ARRRR! Ahhhh, good times. But as we set sail for Miami, we be taken by a Portugese man o' war. They be flyin' colors of blood red and their hearts were black as an eyepatch at midnight. Now we should be havin' their heads but, having spliced the mainbrace a wee bit too hard on the isles, we be in no condition to be firin' cannonballs. Safety first, I be always sayin'. Friends don't let friends be firin' cannons drunk. The ship overtook us and their cap'n came aboard. Expectin' an all expenses paid trip to dang ol' Davey Jone's locker, he gave us wee grin. All he be wantin' is the Choo Choos. We handed 'em over and I ain't seen a one since. Wee, doggy.
Walk the Plank?: Avast, ye scurvy swabs, I be fancin' the ass of this cardboard lass. Now, as ye be knowin', I love me some fireworks. But my love for the Titanic be stronger than a thousand scallywags and brighter than million burning French townships. Would a firework by any other name be smellin' so sweet? Me and this botanical bride set sail for a quiet life on the sea shore. But that not be sayin' that it be all fun and games, maties. In me many years of py-rat-cy, I be makin' plenty of enemies, among them kings, plenty of queens, several members of the Screen Council Guild, the bouncers at every bar on the Sunset Strip and the scurvy maggot ye' spy below.
Or least I be until those rustproof peg legs I sent 'fer arrive in the mail. YEE HAW!
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