"Eye of the tiger, baby... eye of the tiger..." You mutter to yourself.
"Crane position... Wax on... Wax off... Only a Master of evil, Darth."

"What the hell be ye talking about ya scurvy swabber of poop decks and not the kind found on ships and not the usual sort of swabbing but a more scatological meaning-"

Abandoning all pretense of martial art, you instead punch him in the throat. Little did you know Pestilential Pete's mod pirate neckerchief covered a fist size tracheotomy site. Your fist punches a piece of the old man's brittle spine out the back of his neck and there you are; a crazed, treasure seeking idiot with your hand jammed all the way through a wizened stinking old pirate. Wouldn't your parents be proud?

"Argh..." Husks Pete, "Ye've pluggered up me smoke hole!"

"How the hell are you talking?!" You say, suspending your increasingly heavy disbelief. "Get the hell off me!"

"Oh, now, old Pete would like that, yes he would, but there's the problem of leverage ya see, yours versus mine I mean to say..."

You start gamely flailing your arm about, the shriveled husk of the old derelict flapping about like a rug a retard was trying to shake the dust from.

"Oh, ow, hey now, there, me nemesis, watch out for me osteoporosis!" Pete advises, as you give up, lay the old man down, place your foot on his forehead and begin tugging.

"Oh, Oh, Oh!" The old man shrieks in dismay "Don't this remind me of me high school prom, now?"

Let's make a long story short. Fifteen hours later it's become clear you won't get this guy off your arm without a chain saw. See any chainsaws here on Skull Island? Think you can swim to shore with a STINKY OLD MAN DANGLING FROM YOUR PUNCHIN' ARM?

START OVER, PUNCHY THE PUNCHIN' CLOWN!