My name is Nathan Myron Cohen. I am a space pirate.
My parents were not particularly happy about my choice of occupation. They preferred that I follow in my father’s footsteps and become a dentist. For the Keskudon. The nice thing about being a dentist for the Keskudon is that they have on average 428 teeth, as compared to the human’s average of 32 teeth.
“More cavities, more fillings, more novacaine,” my father would say. “Nate, its a gold mine!”
But a life of examining reptilian molars was not for me. For as long as I could remember, growing up on Jameniri Prime, I knew I wanted to be a space pirate. Sure, a lot of kids would pretend to be pirates, but most outgrew the dream. Not me. It was all I ever wanted. My parents said I had to wait until I was 13, after my bar mitzvah.
At first, I thought they were giving me lip service. Humoring me. But at my bar mitzvah reception, my uncle Abe, the one who made a killing speculating on Bifurian Silk, called me over to talk.
“Nathan,” he said, chomping on his Falajian cigar, “today you became a man. And if you are serious abut this damned space pirate business, I’ll make you a deal. If you finish high school with an A average, I will set you up as a pirate with a couple of spare ships in the Colancia system. There’s a few Phaerex there who owe me favors. And when you get tired of pirating, you can come work for me, and make some real money!” He bellowed a laugh and the spittle hit me in the eye.
Uncle Abe. The only one who took me seriously.
So I finished my classes a year early, with an A+ average no less, and at age17 I left home and became a space pirate. My mother cried and reminded me to wear my rain jacket so I don't catch a cold. "And don't forget your allergy medicine!!"
So there I was: an honest-to-goodness space pirate. Not a particularly good space pirate, mind you, but at least I chased my dream. What follows is my story. The story of when the universe felt the wrath of Cohen.
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