The Commodore

So, I figure I'll just bide my time. I will be assumed dead before the cash I'm holding is totally depleted. Not that my offenses aren't pardonable, per se. I just don't feel comfortable relying on the mercy of my fellow man.

I was generally considered to be a mountebank, but I never felt like I was particularly flamboyant -- and apparently not deceptive enough, either. I simply practiced a creative brand of amateur aeronautics. People really should have known better. I was known as Commodore Vic Twenty. I was never in the Navy and commodores don't typically have much to do with planes anyway. And c'mon, Commodore Vic Twenty? Seriously? If a contract I was bidding on went to arbitration, the referee would address me as The Commodore. I mean, weren't these people around during the early 80's? Oh, and allow me to introduce Ensign Qbert. Our commanding officer is the intrepid Rear Admiral "Pitfall" Harry.

All right, so the feds did wise up eventually. I can't flash a Rolex and a Jaguar and say, "Scoreboard," anymore. But I can't complain; there's no way the illegal arms trade should have been this good for this long anyway. The Commodore may have to spend a few years sloshing around in the gutter, but that's OK. I have some very good friends in South America. And I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be interested in accommodating my gluten-free diet in the federal penitentiary.

Seed words: gutter, scoreboard, deplete, bide, mountebank, pardonable, arbitration, commodore, aeronautics, gluten

Once again, these words were generated by the random-word generator on coyotecult.com.