Pirate Dave and his Randy Adventures (Career Ending Romance Spoof) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Pirate Dave and His Randy Adventures

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  More about Robyn Peterman

  Excerpt from “How Hard Can It Be?”

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Books by Robyn Peterman

  About the Author

  Pirate Dave and His Randy Adventures

  A randy spoof

  by

  Robyn Peterman

  *****

  Copyright 2013 by Robyn Peterman

  Cover by Rebecca Poole

  Edition License Notice

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should delete it from your device and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.

  This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to all the porno grannies who helped me. I love each and every one of you!! Writing a book may be a solitary sport, but there is no way in hell it can be done alone.

  Thank you to Rebecca Poole for the amazing cover. It’s like you crawled inside my warped brain and pulled out an image!

  My beta readers (and dear friends) Candace, Donna, Jim, Kim, Kris, Jowanna, Moni and JM. You guys rock. You have talked me down and cheered me up. I adore you!

  Thank you JM Madden, Donna McDonald and Christi Main-Ehrlich for your editing eyeballs! You all make me look like a far better writer than I am!

  Thank you Kris for teaching me how to cut and paste, my website, blog, news letter, promo stuff . . . and the list goes on.

  A big ginormous thank you goes to the brilliant authors JM Madden and Donna McDonald. Formatting, hand holding, cheerleading . . . I love and admire both of you.

  And last, but not least, my family. My super hot hubby and my amazing and wonderful kids. None of this matters without you! 1-4-3

  Dedication

  For all of my readers who lovingly threatened me to write this! I haven’t laughed so hard writing anything . . . ever!

  Prologue

  After all was said and done, the disgusting novella meant to destroy a story stealing New York Time’s best-selling author’s career was successful. Rena Gunderschlict, an accountant with no discernible literary talent, and her band of adorable porno writing grannies came up with the worst piece of literature, (and I use that word loosely), that was ever written. Amazingly enough, it became a cult classic. Who in the hell knew there was an underground need to know and love a Time-Traveling Vampire Warlock with erectile dysfunction and his conjoined lady loves, Laverne and Shirley?

  Apparently the need is there and now so is the full version of their story . . .

  ** Special Note from Author Robyn Peterman **

  This is a spoof. A profane romance spoof not meant for anyone under 18. I was threatened lovingly and repeatedly by my readers to write the full version of Pirate Dave. He was born of the need to create a horrific career ending romance novel to destroy a really bad, nasty villainess . . . and Thank you Buddha in a tube top, it worked! I laughed my way through writing this and I hope you will enjoy this small slice of my warped brain. NO, this is not what I normally write, but I certainly had a good time penning it! If you want to read the real romance story, you’ll have to peruse HOW HARD CAN IT BE? You’ll find the first three chapters at the end of the hot mess you’re about to read . . . And now, I give you the career ending novella, (hopefully not mine) otherwise known as PIRATE DAVE AND HIS RANDY ADVENTURES.

  Chapter One

  “Jesus Christ in a miniskirt,” Pirate Dave bellowed as the violent wind blew his matted hair into his eyes practically blinding him. Why the hell did a storm blow up every time he was about to get laid? The ship bucked like a horny bronco on the choppy green sea. The sky burned with a raging passion that rivaled his Johnson in his breeches. He grabbed the railing of the ship for purchase. “What in the hell is going on?”

  “An earthquake,” squealed Crooked Jim, “and it’s a mother fucker!”

  The motley crew scampered around the deck like clumsy asshole ninjas. They shrieked like girls and ran for cover.

  “I don’t have time for this shit,” Dave muttered as he grabbed the wheel of the ship and headed for port.

  The sea might have been angry, but the land was no kinder. The ground groaned and buckled beneath his boots. If that three-eyed fortune teller was yanking his chain, he would personally remove his man-bits with a dull butter knife. That stinky bastard had sworn Dave would find the most beautiful horny woman in the world . . . right here in Sydney, Australia. Of course the asshat had forgotten to mention that Dave would have to fight a deadly earthquake to reach his poontang. Whatever. He’d faced much worse. Like the hairless Catholic hookers who shape shifted into sex-addicted groundhogs. They posed as nuns by day. The convent doubled as a bordello. He’d had many randy, yet life threatening, nights with those bible thumping whores. Ahh, good times. Good times.

  Pirate Dave, followed by part of his trusty crew, Hairy Sam and Hook, walked right into the mansion described by the fortune teller. He spit on his hand and slicked his greasy hair back while quickly diving to his right to avoid the chandelier falling from the ceiling. Jesus Christ, why in the hell hadn’t that stupid seer given him a weather report. Was that too fucking much to ask?

  “Where is she?” Hairy Sam yelled as the roof began to cave in.

  “The fuck if I know,” Pirate Dave shouted, hopping over empty broken chairs and empty broken tables. “Let’s try upstairs.”

  “There are no stairs,” Hook said pointing at the splintered mass of lumber that somewhat resembled steps. “Let’s get out of here!”

  “Absolutely not,” Pirate Dave roared. “I am a Time-Traveling Vampire Warlock! Stairs are for assmonkeys!”

  Hairy Sam and Hook trembled in abject terror and wonder as Dave flew up the former staircase like a drunken bat. Last time Dave had flown, he’d accidentally time-travelled to the prehistoric era and had almost mated with a dinosaur. Dave came to his senses when he realized the dinosaur had no breasts. Unable to get a woody for a scaly reptile with no bosom, Dave time-traveled back before he got eaten.

  Dave sniffed the air, hoping for a whiff of a horny gal. “Son of a bitch,” he choked out, getting two nostrils full of crumbling plaster. “This sucks.”

  He blew his nose on his sleeve and then ran through the hallway at vampire speed looking for his prize. Th
e mansion was falling down around him. Literally.

  He froze. His skin flute tingled and itched like a gnarly case of the shingles.

  A locked door. The scent of not one, but two horny babes. Things were looking up.

  Dave got down on his knees and peered through the keyhole. Holy hell, they were twins. Bodacious, red-headed twins. Bursting forth from their kelly green corsets, were two pairs of tremendous fun bags. They held each other lovingly, gazing into each other’s eyes. Fuck, that was hot. Pirate Dave had always dreamt about a three-way with identical twins. He was going to buy that fortune teller something really great, like a David Hasselhoff album or a complete season of Baywatch tapes. It was difficult to hear the girls, but Dave was a freakin’ vampire and could hear a pin drop in a hurricane.

  “I had no idea he was a mime. He gave me his number, but I think it’s in brail,” the sexy one on the left said.

  “Occasionally I forget how mentally unstable you are, and then you speak,” the hot one, with lovely melons, on the right replied.

  “Thank you.” Lefty smiled and stroked her sister’s cheek. “I’d really like to boink a vampire. I’ve heard they have buttons on their testicles.”

  “You really need to get a handle on your chemical imbalance,” Righty snapped. “I say these things because I care.”

  “Seriously,” Lefty giggled. “The buttons come in handy if they suck out too much of your blood.”

  “What if he’s a zombie?”

  Were these chicks for real? Pirate Dave stroked his woodchuck and strained to hear more.

  “I don’t know anything about zombies,” Lefty said, “but if you fornicate with a vamp, make sure you’re cupping his balls the entire time. The button on the right is the erection button and the button on the left is the weenie deflator. If you forget to cup the nut sack just knee the vamp in the testes. The buttons are extremely sensitive so you’re bound to activate one.”

  “I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but what if you hit the erection button instead of the weenis killer?” Righty asked with an eye roll.

  Dave reached into his breeches and examined his balls. Wait! Where in the hell were his buttons? He was a fucking vampire for shit’s sake. He shoved his porksword to the side to get a better feel of his scrodie sac. Damn it, no buttons. What the hell?

  “Don’t worry, a double knee to the hard-on button will cause the vamp’s wiener to shrink to the size of a midget sweet pickle. It takes six months and four days for it to grow back to size. Most humans don’t have this info, so consider yourself privileged.”

  “Again, I like to state that you are an insult to my intelligence and if I could kill you without dying myself . . . I would do it in a heartbeat,” Righty informed Lefty.

  Dave had never been so turned on in his life and he’d been around for six hundred years. He had to get those sex kittens out of the house before it fell down for real and they died. He was no necrophiliac.

  With a mighty heave he busted down the door, scaring the crap out of the girls and causing an avalanche of plaster and stone to fall. He could barely see his new girlfriends, but he was blessed with super-sonic smelling abilities and sniffed his way across the room.

  “Who in the hell is that?” Lefty screamed in a voice that made Pirate Dave wince.

  “I have no clue,” Righty shrieked above the din, “but he’s hot in a hairy, gross, unclean way.”

  “Come with me,” Dave yelled. “I will save you and we will have a three-some!”

  “What did he say?” Lefty asked.

  “He’s going to save us and his name is Liam Neeson.”

  “The one with the big . . . ”

  The mansion groaned and came apart at an alarming rate. The hot, large hootered babes screamed and reached for Dave.

  “Hold on to each other,” he shouted. “This is going to be a bumpy ride.”

  “Like we have any other choice,” Lefty muttered in disgust.

  Dave had no clue what she meant because all of his blood had moved out of his brain and down to his painfully humongous flesh trombone. He needed to get his gals out of there and back to his cabin. Pronto.

  Chapter Two

  “What in the Sam Hill is that?” Calico Andy the Mind Reader asked, backing away from the women sprawled on the deck of the ship.

  “Who is Sam Hill?” Hairy Sam whispered to Hook. Hook shrugged his shoulders and stared in shock at the abomination on the ground before him.

  “Holy Sweet Mary Mother of Moses the Pope, Buddah, Jesus Jones and Steve. It’s alive!” Long Dong Silver screamed and dove overboard.

  “Who in the hell gave Long Dong back his bible?” Pirate Dave groused, circling his new girlfriends in confusion. “I have expressly forbidden The Dong to read.”

  “Um Captain,” Crooked Jim, pulled his knife and stepped toward the buxom gals. “There’s something mightily wrong with your girlfriends.”

  “Sheath your weapon, assmunch. Do you think I’m blind? Of course I can see there’s a slight problem,” Pirate Dave shouted.

  Crooked Jim quickly put his blade away, cutting off two fingers in his haste.

  Pirate Dave continued to circle the women. Was this a trick? Hmmm, he saw two heads, four voluptuous badoinkees, two arms and two legs . . . He’d heard of this phenomenon before, but he’d never actually seen it. He idly wondered if there were two sets of lady bits beneath the skirts and petticoats . . .

  “State you names,” Dave demanded. “Or name . . . ”

  “Oh for God’s sake, haven’t any of you smelly bastards ever seen Siamese Twins?” the one on the right spat. “We’re conjoined, you assholes. Get used to it.”

  The bitchiness of the one on the on the right made Dave’s Roger very jolly, but the quiet sweet one on the left was the one he really wanted. A buzzing in his breeches yanked him from his musings.

  “Captain,” Captain Crunchy gasped, “your tallywacker is vibrating.”

  “That’s not my meat-popsicle, you idiot! It’s my cell phone,” Pirate Dave huffed and pulled his phone from his pocket. He quickly scanned the screen. “ZEBU? What the fuck is a ZEBU?” Dave screamed and stomped his feet, throwing a shit-fit of epic proportions.

  “What’s wrong with him?” one of the conjoined twins asked.

  “Well, ladies . . . um lady or ladies,” Crooked Jim muttered, trying to be polite, but utterly confounded as to how to address the women.

  “Oh for God’s sake, you dimwit, my name is Laverne and my lesser half is Shirley,” the mean sexy one on the right ground out between clenched teeth. “What in the hell is wrong with your captain and what is that thing?”

  The crew backed away as Pirate Dave’s tantrum took a turn for psychotic. “That obese mother fucker Poseidon is cheating! Zebu can’t possibly be a word! That unscrupulous son-of-a-bitch is going on-line to some Scrabble site so he can beat me! What’s wrong with you?” Dave shouted to the Heavens. “Are you such a porcine dickwit that you have to resort to cheating to beat me?” he screamed. Dave continued to stomp around the ship spewing obscenities at the sky.

  “Ahh, well, um . . . you see, Pirate Dave is a Time-Traveling Vampire Warlock who’s addicted to on-line Scrabble. He plays on his cell phone and apparently the God, Poseidon, is well, you know . . . ,” Crooked Jim tried to explain.

  “Back up,” Laverne snapped. “What’s a cell phone?”

  “Ohhhhh, if he’s a Vampire, does he have testicle buttons?” Shirley asked. The crew was struck silent at the visual Shirley created . . . Well, that and the simple fact that her voice was pitched to call all dogs within a three mile radius.

  “Well?” Laverne demanded.

  “Yes, of course,” Crooked Jim winced at her tone and prayed Shirley didn’t speak again. “A cell phone is a machine from the future used to talk to other people who also have cell phones.”

  “They’re also good for taking pictures,” Hairy Sam added.

  “And for trolling the internet for porn,” Calico Andy volunte
ered.

  “The internet is a place of vast knowledge,” Hairy Sam explained. “Billy goats urinate on their own heads to smell more attractive to females.”

  Laverne and Shirley were appalled. They slowly began to butt-scooch over to the ship’s rail, realizing Long Dong had the right idea by jumping overboard.

  “I shall beat the bulbous bastard fair and square,” Pirate Dave grunted, punching a word into his phone. “Geed! Take that! Does anyone know what Geed means?”

  “Um, no . . . but your well endowed new girlfriend . . . friends are trying to escape,” Crooked Jim pointed, using the remaining three fingers on his left hand.

  “Halt!” Pirate Dave commanded. “I saved you from sure death and have chosen you to relieve my erectile dysfunction.”

  The crew clapped wildly while the girls threw up a little bit in their mouths.

  “Is that contagious?” Shirley whispered.

  “Absolutely not,” Dave laughed uproariously. “If I were a naked fairy you might have a problem. Those sons-of-bitches get around and tend to be violent! I’ve had several run-ins with them in Detroit. Suffice it to say, I’ve been banned from ever setting foot in Michigan for the rest of my life.”

  “I’m sorry, are you slow?” Laverne asked.

  “What a tremendous sense of humor you have! Almost as large as your cantaloupes!” Dave chuckled, adjusting his chubby. “I am quick! I can fornicate in thirty-seven seconds flat. Of course I need to slap nasties four to twelve times a day or I’ll grow hair on my palms.”