On the Island....

I'm sure you're all quite worried about Gnarly Muffins and especially Boodlemeister.

Very rare is the cat who can't feed himself in a pinch. The fact is, cats like it when we tall, two-legged, strange-looking, non-furry cats feed them. It's fun. Lie around, be petted, get free fish. Lie around some more, purr enchantingly, get bits of bacon. Catch a rat. Crunch. Be praised and be told you are a Good Kitty. Lie around some more and get more fish. That is not a bad life for a cat.

Boodlemeister had had a very cushy time of it on the ship. Gnarly had always had a soft spot for cats, and then when our girls came on board, well. That was kitty heaven. But out here on this island with a barrel of kraut and a perpetually farting cook, Boodle soon figured out what was easy to catch and tasty. He also figured out what had sharp bits or didn't taste so good. Lizards? Meh. But tweety birds, yummy! Better than mice. Harder to catch, but of course he soon figured it out. Boodle quickly became sleeker, faster, and the Terror of All Things Small and Crunchy.

Boodle realized that Gnarly just was not getting the whole Birdie Thing.
"Follow me, I'll show you how it's done," Boodlemeister suggested.
"Yes, nice kitty, I know you miss your brother," Gnarly replied.
"Um, OK, well there is that. But right now, we need to get you something to eat besides kraut. I can smell your farts halfway across the island."
"Poor Boodle, you are starting to get skinny too, are you hungry?"
"No, dumb head, I'm fine! Never felt better. I'm not skinny, I'm sleek! What I am trying to say is that you need hunting lessons!"
"Poor cat is having a plotz. Boodle, I just don't have any food for you."
"Oh my GOD you are such a dope! What did they feed you on when you were a kitten, Twinkies?"
"I might find some crabs. Maybe you can eat a couple of those, OK, Boodle?"
"I don't need crabs, you idiot. I'm trying to teach you how to hunt. Crabs indeed. The ones in the cove have three bites, measly even for a cat...." And with his tail twitching violently, he disappeared into the woods.

Gnarly was not known for his powerful neuron pumping. One day, Gnarly was languishing in the makeshift shelter he'd put together with branches and finally decided that Something Had To Be Done. No idea what. But he would do Something.

2 Little Girls Become Pirates Whether They Want to or Not

The girls worked until their little arms ached and then kept working.  They were not soon done with the deck, but when the deck was scrubbed (not clean - that took another sixteen tries) - they collapsed in a grimy heap on the poop - rear of the ship, not actual fecal matter, for you non-naval types - deck.

Along came Woodeye McGee. When he saw the young ladies resting he nudged Snarfetta hard with the toe of his boot.
"Ow! Hey, knock it off!" Snarfetta tried really hard not to kick back. Self-control is a good policy with crabby pirates.

"What do ye mean by this, sleeping on the Poop when ye should be workin?'
"Oh, keep yer shirt on, we're about to go below to cook the lunch," Snarfetta groused back.
Woodeye poked at his nose in a most ungentlemanly manner and made ready to spit.
The girls, not desiring to be in the line of fire, skedaddled.

Walking down the rickety wooden steps to the cramped galley, Snarfetta complained, "It's not fair! He's a real pig!"
"I don't think his parents loved him enough," was Brunhilda's remark. So sympathetic! Snarfetta rolled her eyes.
"I wonder why," she said.

Work. Ubiquity of unwashed pirate fragrance. It had been a while since the storm but there was a lot to do, and water was running low. Not that the pirates would have washed with it anyway. It was a concern; even Brunny stopped washing.
One hot day when there was almost no wind and everyone was cranky, Cap'n Black called the girls into his cabin. "Uh-oh," Snarfy said. "He's gonna murder us today for sure. Dang heat!"
They could smell his cologne, a blend of musk and amber. The girls sniffed appreciatively, and Brunhilda would have been very grateful for a bottle of the stuff.

"Ye wenches be's the best cooks," he began. "Gnarly Muffins, God rest his soul, din't have th' womanly touch."
"Gee, thanks," Snarfetta's snarcasm bubbled up like a cauldron of Newts. "Wait, you believe in God?"
"Figure of speech, but yes, I was brought up proper-like. Me mum is dead, now, though."
"I wonder what she'd think of your job," Snarfy muttered under her breath.
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that! How tragic," Brunhilda flew around the desk and patted the Captain on the shoulder. He patted her hand in turn and looked up to her with sad, dark eyes. Amazing how fast that girl could move in the interest of Being Nice.

The Captain cleared his throat. "What I was wonderin, ladies, is if you would like to stay on, join the crew as permanent mates. To cook fer us, and all that."
The girls simultaneously said, "Er..."
They were in the middle of the sea on a ship with a bunch of stenchy people who were bigger, stronger, and could make their lives miserable. What were they supposed to say? "Get lost, you creep"? Poor Brunny, who was a few years older and closer to womanhood, wondered what would become of her dream of being a Mommy? She could not very well marry G-Thump or Fizzy Bottle! EW!

So this is how one very nice little girl and one nice-ish little girl came to be Real Pirates.