'Arr, me hearties' said an eye-patch wearing P&O spokesman, feeding some crumbs to the enormous parrot on his shoulder, his one metal tooth glinting in the light.
'It's important for the land lubbers who run the enterprise to take the lion's share of Neptune's bounty. But some of them scurvy-ridden knaves have demanded a living wage! Even when we set sail in international waters? Keel haul 'em I say. Send 'em to Davy Jones' locker. Do they think we're made of Spanish gold? We'll make them walk the plank at the point of my cutlass, rather than pay them enough doubloons to live.'
The parrot flapped its wings and squawked 'Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight. But only for management.'
Photo by Zoltan Tasi on Unsplash