Plundered By The Pirates Of Swampy Cove

An hour after the relentless stream of trick-or-treaters trickled off, I’m making my way along dark, unfamiliar streets to a Halloween party my bestie, Carrie, insisted I join her at. Thrown by people I don’t know. At a frat house I’d never been to, down near Swampy Cove, according to the GPS.

Then she runs off to meet her newest fling and leaves me, the directionally challenged, to find her own way to the party.

What could go wrong, right?

One black cat, a glass of red wine, and four pirates later, I still haven’t found Carrie. She better be having a great time, because goodness only knows what’s gonna happen next.

Maybe I should’ve just stayed home.

Four pirates tell me that would’ve been much less fun.