The reason I started this blog was to possibly show that Municipal Planning wasn't so boring that accountants said, "Well at least I'm not doing that." These past couple weeks have certainly gone a long way toward proving my point.
Let me just state that, even though I am quartermaster for a crew of cutthroats as bloodthirsty as any, I don't enjoy an excess of drama and adventure in my life. I would have made a great hobbit. No adventure, and lots of meals--that's me. So I was shocked to learn that the da of one of our Plank-holders--a Plank-Holder who has built a cabin with blatant disregards of the Articles--called up just about everyone who would listen and threatened them with hideous medieval tortures. The most aggravating part is that hideous medieval tortures are my job. The son has gone into hiding, but we figure he must still be aboard, as someone keeps scrawling ominous messages ("Keep out! This means you! Avast! Go back, for the path you take will lead to certain DOOOM!!") for us every time we take some action against him, such as marooning his stowaways or barricading his cabins.
As if that weren't enough, another crewman has been stockpiling rats as pets, and when we told him he can't keep that much vermin in his bunk (last thing we need is an outbreak of plague), he went on about how ever since his wife was lost at sea, the rats are all he has to remember her by. Bear in mind, there hasn't been some transgression on this ship that wasn't accompanied by a similar heart-rending tale, but if we let him keep his rats, everyone will wants more rats, and the next thing you know, somebody's contracted the Black Death.
We are already embattled by another crewman and his excessive rat problem; unfortunately, as we are a privateer operating under another's colors, this case is being decided by the local magistrate sometime next month. It would be sooner, but there are always a lot of pirates operating without a Letter, and those scalawags' hangings take precedence.
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