Ahoy there,

We are DJs Enzo and Frostbite (respectively), and are granting you permission to come aboard the SS Awesome. After long years on the seven seas, scouring the planet for gold, diamonds, etc… we have come to the conclusion that are true passion in life–although piratery is amusing–is presenting the finest music to the finest listeners. I, DJ Enzo, being the captain of this vessel, intend to do just that.

Some ask how it is that Frostbite and I came together. Well, friends, it was a fateful night off the coast of Argentina. The rains poured on the deck of my vessel, an eighty foot Brigantine flying Dutch colors named Lindkurk Brovanjinik, and the sea crept below her, like a great Leviathan in slumber. Just then, the winds changed, and a smell accosted my nostrils. I turned to the horizon, and new the smell. It was a fire off in the distance. It stained the sky red, except for the column of blackness rising from it like a great carrion bird, vying for altitude, pushing back gravity. 

“Adjust heading, number one,” I cried. If there was a seaside town on fire, it only stood to reason that I, considering myself “green,” should try to “recycle” any valuables left by the blaze, and the residents who came before it. The wind filled my sails, the sea herself pushing me on.

“Hard to starboard. Full sail.” We traveled at about nine knots, cutting the water in two before us.

Upon arrival at the seaside village, the fire had all but subsided, bruising the hill that was once a village. I ordered three craft and thirty men to scour the landscape for anything that might have been left in the blaze.

They returned with only a few scraps of gold, and some worthless jewelry. This was disheartening, but they had found something else.

“Captain,” said Franz, one of my most trusted oarsmen, “he was buried in rubble, but protected by his cradle.” He presented me with a boy, not more than a year old. “We couldn’t leave him there?”

“You were right in taking him, Franz,” I said. “See that he is fed, and put him in some new cloths.”

“D’you suppose he needs a name, sir?” Franz asked.

A bit of ocean spray leapt from the side of the vessel, and landed on my face. The freezing water was not bad, but for the wind, which cooled it to a temperature unbearable. In the heat generated by the embers, I had forgotten how cold the night had grown.

“Frostbite,” I said. “We shall call him Frostbite.”