Fire in the hole!
When Queen Anne’s Revenge came into view with a Jolly Roger flying high above the main mast, Blackbeard warned his crew before firing the cannons upon a hostile schooner while standing at the helm of his infamous pirate ship.
The roar of the cannons echoed across the waves as smoke billowed into the sky, signaling the start of another fierce battle on the high seas; whereupon the deckhands scrambled to their positions, adrenaline pumping as they prepared to defend their ship and seize the enemy’s treasure.
Once the man-of-war rammed their worthy adversary on the port side, the legendary captain, with hemp and lighted matches woven into his thick facial hair, gave his band of marauders the order to leave no survivors as they prepared to board the galleon.
Dead men tell no tales!
With ropes swinging wildly from the masts, Edward Teach’s fearless crew swooped down onto the enemy vessel as cutlasses clashed and battle cries filled the air; after which their foes quickly succumbed, delivering the coveted booty into their hands.
Can’t you just picture all those precious metals within your grasp?
Avast ye!
On the surface, it would appear the English pirate and his minions were about to transfer the stolen plunder back to their own seafaring transport.
However, this mild-mannered eighth grader and his roving theatrical troupe just gave an impromptu performance, which only had their imaginary audience clamoring for more.
Shiver me timbers!
Not long after my younger siblings and I finished watching another fun-filled classic movie featuring “Ma and Pa Kettle” on a rainy Saturday afternoon the second weekend in November, Stephanie Wolfe, one of Kathleen’s numerous close-knit companions, invited the three of us to trudge up the hill to her family’s residence for a homespun adventure in the attic.
As soon as this trio of house guests were welcomed into the foyer of the American Foursquare home, they quickly removed their raincoats and galoshes before scurrying up the stairs to the first room on the left — the sleeping quarters of high school senior Frank “FuFu” Wolfe — with the excited miniature-sized hostess leading the way.
“What do you think you’re doing?” quizzed Lisa Wolfe, addressing her youngest sister, who charged into their big brother’s bedroom without so much as an invitation. “Since FuFu isn’t even home, I seriously doubt that he would appreciate you violating his privacy by trespassing into his personal space.”
“I’m taking my friends into the attic,” the second grader shot back, glaring at the smart mouth preteen standing in the doorway. “Unless you know of another way to get up to the third floor, we have to walk through Mister Big Stuff’s bedroom.”
Why don’t you come down from your high horse before you get bucked off.
The seven-year-old stuck out her tongue before disappearing inside the hidden stairway.
In the opposite corner of the sports-themed bedroom, filled with numerous trophies and other football paraphernalia, was a faux closet door, which actually contained a wraparound staircase leading to the third floor of the large house situated at the corner of North Street and Hazen Avenue.
Just before stepping into the enclosed stairwell, I spotted a framed photo of the newspaper clipping touting the success of the 1978 citywide wiffle ball champions – the Northside boys’ team with the shirtless Italian stallion seated in the second row.
There was a set of dormer windows at the top of the narrow steps, which opened into a rather spacious room containing a chimney, with sunlight streaming through the beveled glass to match the mirror image at the other end; and a third set of dormer windows, facing the street, also filled a smaller room with natural light.
“Jumping Jehoshaphat!” I exclaimed, looking about the wide-open space like a newly minted real estate agent. “Our widow’s peak pales in comparison to the living space inside this walk-up attic; because our only access is to climb a ladder through a trap door in our elevated upstairs hall closet.”
“But it doesn’t even have a proper floor or walls, not to mention, any electricity to shed some light on the situation,” I added while getting a glimpse of half the neighborhood from the nearby dormer windows.
If we lived here, this would make a perfect entertainment room to not only play pool, but to also watch television with the guys on the weekends.
“You must be living on Fantasy Island,” proclaimed the green-eyed blondie, placing hands on hips as she strutted around like a proud peacock. “Michele and I would turn this ginormous room into a playroom fit for a pair of Disney princesses, because girls rule and boys drool.”
You’re forgetting one very important component to this scenario.
What’s that?
This isn’t even our house, so none of our well-thought-out plans amount to a hill of beans.
“Here’s the skinny,” Stephanie chimed in with a giggle, while wagging an index finger into the air. “Since I do live here, youns gave me some off-the-hook ideas to run by my parents concerning this space.”
Glad to be of service.
Shortly after discovering a treasure chest filled with would-be gold doubloons — an array of costumes from Halloweens past — over in the corner, this budding thespian began spinning his wheels after putting on a tricorn hat and wielding a single-edged blade.
Spotting a sea of blue with nimbostratus cloud-shaped brigantines outside the third-story dormer window, I thought back to another time and place when a certain little band of merrymakers acted out a Blackbeard adventure in Bobby Kuhn’s multi-level, pirate-themed backyard tree house during third grade.
Nestled among the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains in southwestern Pennsylvania, the small coal mining town of Bentleyville was our very own treasure island, and that magical tree house felt as grand as the Queen Anne’s Revenge itself.
By George I think I’ve got it!
Within a matter of minutes, these purported movie stars transformed themselves into a ragtag brigade of swashbuckling buccaneers before they whisked away on another adventure out on the high seas.
Directly after taking the stolen loot back to their transport, Blackbeard and his men set sail for the sun-drenched Caribbean Islands as they reveled in their triumph, the ship’s hold brimming with the spoils of war.
The promise of golden sunsets, hidden coves, and endless adventure awaited them, as they celebrated their hard-earned victory in the pirate haven.