Speaker 1: Calarogu Shark Media, Hello and welcome to Romance Weekly. This
episode is titled Pirates of New York, Part three, Yoho
Ho and a Bottle of Kombucha.
Speaker 2: The morning sun glinted off the skyscrapers of Manhattan. As
Kara Thompson paced her tiny hostel room, her mind was
reeling from the revelations of the previous night time traveling pirates.
It sounded absurd, and yet you're not seriously buying this,
are you, Emma asked, watching her friend with concern. Kara
side running a hand through her hair. I know it
sounds crazy, but you didn't see them, Emma, the way
they react to everything. They're confusion about basic technic. It's
either the most elaborate act I've ever seen, or or
you're dating a guy from the eighteenth century. Emma finished,
shaking her head. Ka, Honey, I think you need to
consider the possibility that these guys are just really committed
con artists. Meanwhile, at South Street Seaport, Rusty and his
crew were facing a crisis of their own. Their ship,
the Salty Wench, had been commandeered by a group of
enthusiastic historical re enactors who are now giving tours to
wide eyed tourists. A vast year landlubbers, A portly man
in an ill fitting pirate costume bellowed from the ship's deck.
Welcome aboard the fearsome salty Wench, Terror of the Seven Seas.
Rusty gritted his teeth, his hand instinctively reaching for his cutlass,
Terror of the Seven Seas my eye. He muttered that
bildrat wouldn't know a jib from a jolly Roger. Pegleg
Pete hobbled up beside him, his arms full of library
books on quantum physics. Captain, I've been studying these tomes
all night. I think I might have an idea of
how to get us back to our own time, but
we'll need access to the ship. Rusty nodded, a plan
forming in his mind. All right, lads, time to reclaim
what's ours, But first we need to blend in. What
followed was a montage of the pirates attempting to disguise
themselves as modern New Yorkers. One eyed Willie struggled with
a pair of skinny jeans, while Salty Sam nearly choked
himself trying to figure out how to tie a necktie. Rusty,
for his part, had Donda I love n Y T
shirt and a pair of cargo shorts. He tugged uncomfortably
at the strange fabric. I feel like a right fool,
he grumbled. Just then, Kara arrived carrying a tray of strange,
colorful drinks. Morning guys, I brought com butcher. It's great
for hangovers or you know, time travel jet lag. The
pirates eyed the fizzy beverages suspiciously. Rusty took a cautious
sip and immediately spat it out. Blimey, this tastes like
the bilge water from a month long voyage. Kara couldn't
help but laugh at their reactions. Okay, maybe kombucha was
a bit ambitious. How about we grab some real breakfast
and figure out how to get your ship back. As
they made their way to a nearby dinah, Rusty filled
Kara in on their predicament. She listened intently, her mind
racing with possibilities. You know, she said, as they slid
into a booth. I might have an idea. My cousin
works at the Natural History Museum. He's always talking about
their advanced research equipment. Maybe they have something that could help.
Rusty's eyes lit up. Lass, you're a genius, But how
do we get access to this museum? Kara grinned mischievously.
Leave that to me. I've always wanted to plan a heist.
While Kara made some calls, Rusty and his crew marveled
at the wonders of modern breakfast food. Pegleg Pete became
particularly enamored with the concept of unlimited coffee refills. It's
like a never ending grog fountain, he exclaimed on his
fifth cup. The future truly is a magical place. Their
meal was interrupted by a commotion outside. They looked out
the window to see a group of tourists taking selfies
with a very confused looking hot dog vender. Oh my god,
your costume is amazing, one tourist gushed, you look just
like a real New Yorker. The vendor, a grizzled man
named Gus, who'd been selling hot dogs on the same
corner for thirty years, looked utterly baffled. Lady, I am
a real New Yorker. Now you want a hot dog
or not, Rusty chuckled. Seems we're not the only ones
struggling with mistaken identity in this city. After breakfast, Kara
led the group to the American Museum of Natural History.
Her cousin, a nerdy but enthusiastic researcher named Max, met
them at the staff entrance, Kara, Max exclaimed, hugging his
cousin before eyeing the pirates suspiciously. These must be your friends.
Nice costumes, thanks, lad, Rusty said, tipping his hat. Now
about that fancy equipment of yours. Max led them through
the labyrinthine halls of the museum, past exhibits that left
the pirates awestruck. One eyed Willie nearly fainted at the
sight of the blue whale model hanging from the ceiling.
It's bigger than our ship, he whispered in awe. Finally,
they reached a restricted area filled with high tech equipment. Max,
still under the impression that this was all for some
elaborate film project, began explaining the various machines. This here
is our pride and joy, he said, gesturing to a
large cylindrical device. It's a quantum entanglement analyzer. In theory,
it could be used to study particles across different points
into peg leg Pete's eyes lit up. That's it, Captain.
If we could use this contraption to locate our own time.
We might be able to create a bridgeback. Rusty nodded
only partially understanding. Excellent Workpete. Now how do we get
this thing to our ship? Max laughed nervously. Oh, you
can't move this. It's worth millions and ways over a ton.
The pirates exchanged glances. This was going to be more
complicated than they thought. Meanwhile, back at South Street Seaport,
the situation was deteriorating. The re enactors had gotten into
character a bit too enthusiastically and were now engaged in
a full scale pirate battle on the deck of the
Salty Wench. Surrender your scurvy dogs, bellowed the portly captain,
waving a plastic sword. His opponent, a skinny man with
a fake parrot on his shoulder, responded by throwing a
handful of chocolate coins. Never the booty is mine. Tourists
watched in delight, snapping photos and cheering on the performance.
Little did they know, the fate of real pirates hung
in the balance just a few miles away. Back at
the museum, Rusty and his crew were brainstorming ways to
use the quantum entanglement analyzer without moving it. Kara, who
had been quiet for a while, suddenly spoke up. What
if we don't need to move the machine? What if
we could bring a piece of your time to it?
All eyes turned to her. What do you mean, lass,
Rusty asked. Kara's eyes sparkled with excitement. Your ship, it's
from your time, right. If we could bring a piece
of it here, maybe that would be enough for the
machine to lock onto your timeline. The pirates erupted in cheers,
but Max looked skeptical, and how exactly are we going
to get a piece of an eighteenth century ship past
museum security? Rusty grinned a mischievous glint in his eye.
Leave that to us, lad, we're pirates after all. What
followed was a montage of increasingly ridiculous attempts to sneak
a piece of the Salty Wench into the museum. One
eyed Willie tried hiding a plank under his shirt, walking
like he had a back brace. Salty Sam attempted to
disguise a ship's rope as an extremely long scarf. Finally,
it was Rusty who managed to smuggle in a small
figurehead by pretending it was a traditional pirate therapy doll.
The security guards, already confused by the group's eccentric behavior,
decided it wasn't worth the hassle to question it. As
night fell, the group reconvened in the museum lab. Max,
who had finally caught on that something truly extraordinary was happening,
worked feverishly to calibrate the machine. Okay, he said, wiping
sweat from his brow. I think we're ready, But guys,
I have to warn you. If this were it might
create a temporary portal. Anything or anyone near it could
potentially be pulled through. The pirates exchanged nervous glances. This
was it their chance to return home, but as Rusty
looked at Kara, he felt a pang in his chest.
The thought of leaving her behind was more painful than
he'd expected. Cara alas, he said, softly, taking her hand.
I I don't know how to thank you for all
you've done. Kara squeezed his hand, tears welling in her eyes.
I'm going to miss you. You know. Who'd have thought
I'd fall for a time traveling pirate. Their moment was
interrupted by a loud bang from the machine. A swirling
vortex of blue light appeared in the center of the lab,
growing larger by the second. It's working, Max shouted over
the noise, but it's unstable. You guys need to go now.
If you going, the pirates began jumping through the portal,
whooping with excitement, but Rusty hesitated, his eyes locked with Kara's.
In that moment, time seemed to stand still. Rusty was
torn between his crew, his life in the past, and
this incredible woman who had shown him the wonders of
the future. Just then, a security guard burst into the lab.
What the hell's going on in here? The sudden intrusion
startled everyone. Rusty, still holding Kara's hand, lost his balance
as he stumbled backward towards the portal. He instinctively pulled
Kara with him. In a flash of blue light, they
both vanished into the vortex, leaving behind a bewildered Max
and a very confused security guard. As the portal closed,
the lab fell silent. The guard turned to Max, his
mouth agape. Did did they just? Max nodded slowly, still
staring at the spot where his cousin had disappeared. Yep,
they did. I don't get paid enough for this, the
guard must, turning on his heel and walking out. As
the dust settled in the now quiet lab, one thing
was clear the adventure was far from over. Somewhere in
the swirling currents of time, a pirate captain and a
twenty one st century woman were about to embark on
their greatest journey yet. And back at South Street Seaport,
blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding across town, the re
enactors on the Salty Wench were just wrapping up their
final show of the night. As the last tourist disembarked,
the portly captain turned to his crew with a grin
same time tomorrow, lads, he asked, removing his fake beard.
I've got a great idea for a new scene. How
about we add some time travel? If only he knew.
Speaker 1: Romance Weekly is a production of Calaroga Shark Media executive
producers Mark Francis and John mcderm. Portions of this podcast
may have been created with the assistance of Ai
Speaker 2: Calaruga Shark Media.