Pirates vs. Vampires

So I walked into a small room, buried in the catacombs of the vastness that is the New Carrollton Federal Building.  It is in this place that I pass as pirate-at-large among the unsuspecting masses of my day-to-day employer.  Well, not in that room specifically, that room was a special trip.  You see, today brought to that room a legion of the second-worst scourge of the lands- vampires.  The worst scourge is so terrible as not to be named, but the bitter rivalry and feud that brews between the kind piratical and the members of this honorless bunch of pajama-wearing nancies is well known to all who sail the seas of the Internets.  Were I to face said scourge in single combat, the world would learn in short order why the fiddler focuses so intently on the music and the las

ses- only those two, with the addition of whiskey, can hope to sate his rage.  Still, today brought me toe-to-peg with the second-worst scourge, the vampire.  They came to my place of employ with but one goal- to drain the place dry, one pint at a time.  Did I face them?  Yes.  Did I defeat them?  Yes!  Their pint-draining attack was no match for the sheer volume of Irish whiskey in my blood.  They even jokingly suggested I lay off the sauce for the evening, as in my “diminished condition,” I might have the alcohol tolerance of, say, the Reverend Doctor Skipford von Toumalou.  What farce!  What nonsense!  The British speak truer things than that!  Oh, wait, I'm feeling a bit dizzy… Is that Flint over there, or a boy with an artificial bosom?  *staggers away*