-
The Cursed Gold of Captain Squidbeard
It was a quiet afternoon at Premier Estate Buyer Boca Raton, the kind where Greg, the store’s owner, sipped his coffee and dreamed of early retirement. Then, the door burst open.
A man stomped in, wearing a tattered pirate coat, a hat with an actual squid perched on top, and enough gold jewelry to sink a small boat. His beard, tangled and glistening with seawater, dripped onto the showroom floor.
“Arrrr, I be here to do business!” the pirate bellowed.
Greg set down his coffee. “Uh… welcome to Boca Raton Gold Buyer?”
The pirate slammed a heavy sack onto the counter. It jingled ominously. Greg hesitated before opening it. Inside was a collection of ancient gold coins, covered in barnacles and what he really hoped wasn’t octopus ink.
“Wow,” Greg said. “These are… very wet.”
“Aye, matey! Been in me treasure chest for a few hundred years. Now I be needin’ some modern currency. Got me eye on a Tesla.”
Greg coughed. “You’re telling me… you’re a 300-year-old pirate?”
“Arrr, that’s right! I be Captain Squidbeard, terror of the high seas! Feared, cursed, and now… investin’ in real estate.”
Greg sighed. He had appraised some weird stuff in his time, but cursed pirate gold was a new one. Still, business was business.
“Well,” Greg said, inspecting a coin, “I can offer you a fair price, but first, I’ll need to verify authenticity. Do you have any proof of ownership?”
Captain Squidbeard frowned. “Arrr… me proof sank with me ship.”
Greg nodded. “Classic problem.”
Just then, a deep, guttural wail echoed through the store. The air grew thick, and a chilling mist spread across the floor. A ghostly figure materialized—a skeletal sailor, glowing blue and holding a spectral sword.
“WHO DARES SELL THE GOLD OF CAPTAIN SQUIDBEARD?” the ghost howled.
Greg blinked. “You didn’t mention the gold was haunted.”
The pirate whistled innocently.
The ghost swirled toward Greg. “ANY WHO TOUCH THE GOLD SHALL BE CURSED FOR ETERNITY!”
Greg sighed and shoved the sack of gold back across the counter. “Yeah, I’m gonna pass.”
“Arrr, but what about me Tesla?” Squidbeard whined.
“Try Estate Buyer Boca Raton,” Greg suggested. “They’re great with rare items. And possibly ghosts.”
The pirate grumbled but scooped up his gold. As he left, the ghost sighed.
“You could’ve taken it,” the ghost said. “The curse only lasts a few centuries.”
Greg took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Another normal day at Boca Raton Gold Buyer.