A couple doors down from our house is a costume shop. In the two months we've lived in this building, I've never once seen the shop open for business, and I'd just begun entertaining the action-packed thought that maybe the shop was really a front for a drug-running circle when I noticed, one morning on my way to work, that the window display had changed.
Previously, the assorted mannequins were all dressed in Egyptian garb--headdresses, Cleopatra kohl and all--but now, oh yes, they're all done up as pirates. Wussy, mannequin boys in knickers, with patent buckle shoes and cascading black ringlets; she-pirates in emerald velvet waistcoats. Bandanas and parrots and stilletto boots abound.
Oh yes. Shiver me timbers, indeed.