Avast!
(Disclaimer: Not my characters; nor my accent. Arr!)
rated rather adult, an' unfit for delicate pale childer.
Arrrr! Ahoy therrre, me hearties! Sit ye down and listen ye up, ye lily-livered landlubbers, while I tells to ye a tale o' the Good Ship Miniscule Dwellin'.
Now, the cap'n of this fine vessel be one master Lionel Luthor—arrrr! 'ee works us 'onest seamen 'ard, 'ee do. But there be one among us 'ee don't word so 'ard (leastways, not on scrubbin' and ropin' and plunderin' and suchlikes), nor treat to such depths of ritual 'umiliation.
'is name—arrrr!—be Jonathon Kent.
When that therrre Jon-o-than Kent—when we refers to as "Kentucky Jon"—came aboard, that be the firrrst thing Cap'n Lionel dos, take 'im into 'is cabin and 'ave screamin' orgasms. Aye—in the firrrst thrrree months 'ee be with us, we crew gets through thrrree 'undred ear-plugs, ass-prix-ee-mately.
Not, I has to say, just for that little 'abit of noisy sex they 'as, neither—the things that man says, it's borin' enough to make y'ears bleed and y'brain crawl out y'nose.
An' even the sharks don't eat ear-plug once they's used, ye see.
We 'as to do summat, quick, afore we drives ourselves to mutiny. So, what does ye think we dos?
First, we takes out an insurance policy on Kentfucky Jon.
Then, we waits. We waits 'til we is piled 'igh with plunder, 'til Cap'n Lionel is countin' it, doubloon by doubloon, and then…
We throws 'im overboard!
Aye, overboard! Right off of the edge an' into the water!
Now, 'ere be the problem, ye sees. We throws 'im overboard, but 'ee don't drown, the miserable scurvy ridden bilge rat. 'ee goes and bloodee swims, 'ee do!
So—me heartie, me buxom beauty—we be workin' on another plan, we be. Ye'll be updated when we knows, arrrr!
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(Wonderrrin' what this be? Hie ye to this page today! Arrrr! Author's note: with a nod to Monty Python's Crimson Permanent Assurance and the trainin' day havin' crew of the Million Pound Radio Show.)