There was a time when Buck was not a towering 7-foot tall hulking mass of genetically mutated chicken feathers stuffed into a pirate vest, an overcoat and a tricorn. He used to be an attractive young man.
In fact, all the ladies, and even a handful of gents, would be swooning left and right trying to catch a glimpse of his shoulder-length auburn hair and piercing green eyes. His jaw could practically cut glass at a glance and it was perfectly framed by his carefully trimmed beard. His rippling muscles were a sight to behold under the sun. They were often found on display in a tight white t-shirt stretched across his bulging biceps or, to onlookers’ dismay, cleverly concealed beneath a breezy pirate dress shirt.
The way he carried and parried with his sword was an even more impressive feat altogether; his sharp skills and even sharper wit sparked curiosity from worlds away by those who caught wind of his triumphant takedown tales from the few who lived to tell them.
Buck was an ordinary buccaneer before he earned his Captain calling card. He travelled the twenty-seven airs and the traditional seven seas to challenge other budding pirates to duels, claiming his riches by one dishonest means or another, to build his reputation as the fiercest pirate ever known. Travelers could not remain unscathed by him through any means of transport, evidenced by ship graveyards littering the seas and dotting the skies. It was considered the end once his ship’s flag was spotted, a black and white cartoonish cat skull with red eyes that bored into whoever dared to gaze upon it.
The command, the prestige, the fear and allure this seizing way of life granted him… it was intoxicating.
Like many typical young men, Buck had a fiercely optimistic outlook on the world, or at least on his capacity to make it better for himself. He was in that golden age of naivety, long before the weight of the world had yet had a chance to batter him down and resign him to a comfortable cocoon of inaction. If he wanted something, he would take it, decidedly and rightfully already his. No treasure was off-limits. No cost was too great. Nothing and no one could stand in his way once he set his sights on something.
And like many typical young men, Buck found himself in love, or at least in a lust so strong that it threatened to consume his every thought and overtake all his ambitions.
Her name was Elixane, and she was as pleasing to the eye as an elixir is soothing to the soul.
Against his volition, Buck’s every waking moment, when he was not actively challenging or pillaging pirates, was devoted solely to plotting ways of winning her affection. He was a standalone man, a great force to be reckoned with. He was the pinnacle of pirate perfection. Everyone knew and regarded him as such. He needed no one, only their fear or admiration, and any gold if they should possess some.
Yet, Elixane appeared to be the only one not fawning over his very existence, so naturally he was drawn to her indifference. She knew of him, but she simply did not care. How could she? It drove him wild.
She was a wide-eyed, red-headed beauty. She was all curves, an hourglass figure with a glass half-full kind of smile. She had a way of throwing her head back to laugh that sent her hair flowing in a slow-motion arc over her to land perfectly framing her face and falling to rest gently on her collar bones. She spoke carefully and listened intently. She made anyone’s presence feel noticed and important, and took up space with hers. She moved gracefully as though gliding was her only way to get around. She was blessed in always being bathed in the perfect amount of light, outlining her in a faint yet powerful aura.
She was a goddess in Buck’s eyes, and the rest of the living world could attest. Buck could not have pleaded to the Heavens to handcraft him a more perfect partner than this gorgeous gal. After attaining everything else, she was all he ever wanted.
Yet, she refused to see him. She ignored all his letters, dodged all his carrier pigeon calls and always made up excuses whenever Buck sent someone to speak for him to her. She politely waved them away.
How could she possibly not be interested?
He had the looks, the body, the riches and the title. He was everything anyone could ever want.
What did she want?
Buck grew more petulant with every rejection, craving what he could not have. He felt his blood boil every night. How could he be so obsessed with her when she does not seem to even have the slightest hint of fixation his way? He felt cracks in his confidence. He had to do something before it was too late.
Too late for what?
He was not sure himself. But, he did have an aching suspicion that he was racing against the clock.
Thus began Buck’s journey to seek an expert on such topics as complicated as the way a woman thinks. He sought help from a well renowned yet retired pirate-psychologist who specialized in using magic for matters of the heart. Her assistance usually entailed metaphysical transformations and revealing revelations, but it all went horribly wrong…
To this day it is unclear whether it was an unfortunate accident or a calculated error.
How did it end? As a giant chicken, of course.
Why? Now that is a question even bigger than the giant chicken himself…