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Pirate Furniture Company
www.thepiratefurnitureco.com

It was a warm spring eve when the first speck of daylight peaked out from behind the stormclouds what bombarded us throughfore the day. The landlocked crew was emerging from a long afternoon bunkered beneath the shelters, and most figured it was time to enjoy some grog beneath this small sliver of sunlight we was granted before nightfall. I myself was of like mind, and led the way to the makeshift bar that had been erected. But once the rum was poured, we realized the tragedy of our situation – we’d nowhere to rest ourselves. The ground was all but saturated, puddled and muddy, yet nary a chair was in view. And while pirates don’t think much of a little dirt, sitting in a pool of slimy muck is best left ta pigs and spaniards. One by one, the swabs around me resigned themselves ta standin while they drank, except for the remote few that just gave up and settled their flanks inta the muck beneath their toes. But as for me own self? I charted a different course.

I reached inta me haversack, and pulled out a small wooden contraption no larger than a logbook. A few quick maneuvers, and I was holding a stool, which I placed firmly on the ground. The seat was embelished with the logo of the infamous East India Company, and I took great delight in setting me hindquarters upon it, even as the rest of me crew sighed in jealousy.

Blessed is the day that this handsome device appeared at me door. While only a smidge under a foot tall, it affords a mighty comfortable seat, and suprisingly sturdy ta boot. And what’s more, if the ground is dry enough ta sit on direct, ya can instead use the stool for a makeshift table. A full foot in diameter, it allows plenty of room for eatin, drinkin, and even playin cards (though not all three at once, mind ya.)

Pirate Furniture Company is from the same minds what brought us Captain Jack’s Pirate Hats, and the very same cleverness and dedication ta quality is more than apparent. The story I just told is true, so far as it goes, and it happened at the Port Washington Pirate Festival just this past weekend. And I don’t exagerate in the least when I say I was mighty glad ta be armed, as I’m certain that had I been defenseless, my stool woulda been pried out from beneath me cold, dead buttocks by some covetous guppy. ‘N ya may lay to that!

A collapsed view of the stool, folded up and ready for transport.