I'm new here, but I wanna try writing some gospel...
here goes... oh, and if it's crappy, ignore me.
And the midgets roamed free and happy in all the lands, and they ate of the holy pasta, and drank of the holy beer, and it came to pass that they were drunk and fat. And heart and liver disease did afflict them, as well as chlamydia but we won't go into that. And they cried out that the FSM had forsaken them, and beat their chicken breasts and made offerings of pesto to appease the FSM.
And it came to pass that the FSM came back from his night on the town, and he saw that the midgets were afflicted. But His Noodliness was hungover, and the high-pitched cries of the midgets irritated him somewhat. Thus, he touched the loudest, fattest and drunkest midgets with his noodly appendage, and called to them in a rather saucy tone:
"Rise up and be real men! No longer wander upon the land! No longer be fat - get some exercise! However, drunkenness is fine, the more the merrier."
And so the midgets' fat was converted into height, and their voices became rough and pleasing to the FSM. And he gave them cutlasses so that they might better cut up ingredients for pasta, and ships so that they might get a whiff of a decent sea breeze because he was sure he'd heard somewhere that this did wonders for the constitution.
But the FSM's work was flawed, and some of his ex-midgets lacked eyes, or legs - nay! some lacked both an eye and a leg!
But lo and behold, there was a good stock of peg legs and eye patches. So that wasn't a big problem.
And the FSM looked upon these ex-midgets, and they were lost - for now they were no longer midgets, nor plants, nor any other known living organism.
"Oh, FSM!" they cried. "What the hell have you done? We're even weirder than we were before!"
And the FSM cried, "Nay! I know what I'm doing! You are pirates! Yep, that was my intention all along. I didn't screw up this process at all." And then his Noodliness floated off, whistling rather guiltily.
And thus, there were pirates.