Ronda and I were having a particularly romantic encounter at my luxurious, private beach front when she suddenly yelped and jumped several feet in the air. “Ouch, something poked me!” she exclaimed and rubbed her delicate tail bone with a rueful expression on her flushed face. Ever the knight I knelt to administer tender loving care to the injured area but she laughingly pushed me away and gestured to a half-buried bottle in the sand. My late grand pappy’s pirate blood pulsed through my veins like a roaring white water river and I leapt at the bottle, excitedly digging it out. I held it up like a prized possession, the sun glinting from its moss-green surface. There was something inside the bottle! Ronda knelt next to me as I eagerly strained to open the rusted screw top. A brittle piece of paper fell out which Ronda scooped up and gingerly opened. It was a treasure map according to the drawings on it and the big black X where the jewel encrusted treasure chest, containing glorious, untold riches, was sure to be found. Whoop-whoop!