‘M’ Marks The Spot

Gather ye round, me mateys, and listen to me maritime tale of woe! Nine long years I’ve searched the seven seas for a chest of gold to fund me sailing adventures. From the mighty Atlantic to the merciless Pacific, I’ve looked far and wide with me one good eye for the treasure that would make me the richest pirate in this side of the flat world.

Me trusty treasure map has led me down the rolling waters of the Huron River and onto the treacherous ground of Olde Ann Arbor. The ‘M’ that marks the spot sits on a strange, rhombus-like field of green, far from me home on the unruly seas.

I left me shipmates aboard the vessel, bless her hull, and set me peg leg on land to find the quadrangular plot the chest may lay beneath. With me cutlass and me sextant in one hand and me shovel in me hook hand, I’ve been exploring the exotic terrain with the vigor and ruthlessness of Blackbeard himself.

With Poseidon as me witness, I will keep digging up this Michigan land in hopes I find me beloved gold doubloons. No siren call nor Caribbean curse can keep me from finding the ‘M’ which sits between me and me wondrous booty!

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