my dad was probably the least hip person in all of suburbia—and that’s saying something. I slinked away from him, using my good old ninja swiftness, and gravitated toward the table where Brian, Edie, and Anna were sitting. There was no sign of Jenny.
“Your dad came too, huh?” Anna asked. “Mine insisted.” She rolled her eyes a bit.
“I don’t mind if he wants a cup of coffee now and then,” I said. “I just don’t see why he had to pick the day we’re planning a piracy.”
“Anyway,” she said, “since they’re both here, we may only have a minute, so let’s get started. We’ve gathered here tonight, at the last independent coffee shop in Cornersville Trace, to become pirates.”
“Avast!” said Brian. Edie patted him on the head.
“Though our original plan was merely to make a movie contrasting the old downtown with the new, including a scene of us setting up an office in Wackfords to see if anyone even noticed,” Anna went on, “recent events necessitate more action. So the mission is as follows: as soon as we can determine that it’s feasible, we’ll arrange to take over the Wackfords on Cedar Avenue. We’ll decorate it to look like an accounting and midlevel management strategies office and attempt to disrupt coffee sales, inviting people who want a proper cup of coffee to go to Sip.”
“Should we talk a bit about what sort of point we’re supposed to be proving?” I asked.
“The point of the takeover is to get people to go to Sip,” Anna said. “And the point of the movie will be to show that the old downtown is cooler than the new one. Sip is a place where you go for intellectual discussions and stuff like that, whereas Wackfords is a place where you go to set up an accounting office.”
Brain thought this over. “Sounds reasonable enough,” he said. “Plus, it’ll be fun.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Edie. I nodded in agreement.
“All right,” said Anna. She dug in her bag and pulled out a yellowy brown sheet of paper and a permanent marker.
“Let’s put down a charter and mission statement for the crew.”
“Mission statement?” said Edie. “That’s a bunch of crap.”
“All lame offices have mission statements,” said Anna, writing “HMS PIRATE SHIP” at the top of the paper. “And I’ll bet you anything that Wackfords has one. So if we’re starting our own office, we’ll need one, too.”
“What the hell’s a mission statement?” Brian asked.
“It’s a bunch of nonsense that businesses throw together to tell what kind of business they intend to do,” I said. “Most of the time, it’s just a bunch of buzzwords and gobbledygook.”
“Well,” said Edie, “maybe ours can be that mission statements suck!”
“Yes!” I said. “That should be our mission statement. ‘Mission statements suck.’”
Anna shrugged. “All righty,” she said. And she wrote it down in capital letters.
“We don’t need to sign in blood or anything, right?”
“We should!” said Edie, reaching for one of the safety pins on her coat.
Anna, to my great relief, shook her head as she folded up the charter. “That wouldn’t be very sanitary,” she said.
We will probably go down in history as the first pirates ever to be all that concerned with sanitation.
“All right,” said Brian. “So we have a crew, and we have a mission.”
“And I have a camera we can use,” I said.
“Me too,” said Brian.
“All right,” said Edie. “What do we do next?”
“Next up is the mutiny,” said Anna. “If we’re gonna pull off a takeover, we’ll need inside help. We’ll need to get Troy to join the crew.”
“Or at least work with us,” I said.
Edie grinned. “I love it!” she said. “Treachery on the high seas of Cedar Avenue!”
“He will join us or die,” said Brian, a bit over-dramatically.
“So it’s all set, then,” said Anna. “Tomorrow, after school, we’ll meet at the flagpole and set sail for Wackfords to organize a
“Your dad came too, huh?” Anna asked. “Mine insisted.” She rolled her eyes a bit.
“I don’t mind if he wants a cup of coffee now and then,” I said. “I just don’t see why he had to pick the day we’re planning a piracy.”
“Anyway,” she said, “since they’re both here, we may only have a minute, so let’s get started. We’ve gathered here tonight, at the last independent coffee shop in Cornersville Trace, to become pirates.”
“Avast!” said Brian. Edie patted him on the head.
“Though our original plan was merely to make a movie contrasting the old downtown with the new, including a scene of us setting up an office in Wackfords to see if anyone even noticed,” Anna went on, “recent events necessitate more action. So the mission is as follows: as soon as we can determine that it’s feasible, we’ll arrange to take over the Wackfords on Cedar Avenue. We’ll decorate it to look like an accounting and midlevel management strategies office and attempt to disrupt coffee sales, inviting people who want a proper cup of coffee to go to Sip.”
“Should we talk a bit about what sort of point we’re supposed to be proving?” I asked.
“The point of the takeover is to get people to go to Sip,” Anna said. “And the point of the movie will be to show that the old downtown is cooler than the new one. Sip is a place where you go for intellectual discussions and stuff like that, whereas Wackfords is a place where you go to set up an accounting office.”
Brain thought this over. “Sounds reasonable enough,” he said. “Plus, it’ll be fun.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Edie. I nodded in agreement.
“All right,” said Anna. She dug in her bag and pulled out a yellowy brown sheet of paper and a permanent marker.
“Let’s put down a charter and mission statement for the crew.”
“Mission statement?” said Edie. “That’s a bunch of crap.”
“All lame offices have mission statements,” said Anna, writing “HMS PIRATE SHIP” at the top of the paper. “And I’ll bet you anything that Wackfords has one. So if we’re starting our own office, we’ll need one, too.”
“What the hell’s a mission statement?” Brian asked.
“It’s a bunch of nonsense that businesses throw together to tell what kind of business they intend to do,” I said. “Most of the time, it’s just a bunch of buzzwords and gobbledygook.”
“Well,” said Edie, “maybe ours can be that mission statements suck!”
“Yes!” I said. “That should be our mission statement. ‘Mission statements suck.’”
Anna shrugged. “All righty,” she said. And she wrote it down in capital letters.
“We don’t need to sign in blood or anything, right?”
“We should!” said Edie, reaching for one of the safety pins on her coat.
Anna, to my great relief, shook her head as she folded up the charter. “That wouldn’t be very sanitary,” she said.
We will probably go down in history as the first pirates ever to be all that concerned with sanitation.
“All right,” said Brian. “So we have a crew, and we have a mission.”
“And I have a camera we can use,” I said.
“Me too,” said Brian.
“All right,” said Edie. “What do we do next?”
“Next up is the mutiny,” said Anna. “If we’re gonna pull off a takeover, we’ll need inside help. We’ll need to get Troy to join the crew.”
“Or at least work with us,” I said.
Edie grinned. “I love it!” she said. “Treachery on the high seas of Cedar Avenue!”
“He will join us or die,” said Brian, a bit over-dramatically.
“So it’s all set, then,” said Anna. “Tomorrow, after school, we’ll meet at the flagpole and set sail for Wackfords to organize a
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