Not too long ago, the only varmint I had messing with me was old PassieAnnie.  He’s been silent lately, but I got me a new varmint hanging around my shack and sticking his ugly nose in it.  His name is Fanny Annie Daftstine.  When ya run into someone like them, you remember all them warnings about Trolls in the woods.  Ayup, Daftstine is one bodacious damn troll.  He speaks in troll screed most of the time.  Lies and half-truths up the arse.  Makes a body wonder just what the world has come to when Troll Screed gets passed off as the English Language.

It’s like the time those Bloody Brits stole our warship and sailed the poor old Chesapeake  home to foreign waters when she never ought to have been made to go there in the first place.  Now, Old Daftstine is a looking for someone to sell them a stolen warship of a story, but in the end it’s best to just hole the hulls and run.

Now, back in the olden days, we would have hung him up by his thumbs and nailed his wagstaff to a pole.  But these are supposed to be Po-lite times.  I don’t hold with Po-lite times.  I’m always looking for the dagger he’s holding behind his back.