All That Glitters is Told

People often attempt to discern the relationship that Turpin and I have.
Like classic duos of the past-
The Edison twins; Penny and Brain; the organ grinder and the monkey-
People have futily made jabs at studying and possibly even understanding us.
I'm here to lay out the facts for you, once and for all.
You'd best get some cocoa first.

Once great mariners and privateers swore of a vast treasure.
Hoards of shimmering jewels, crowns topped with sanguine rubies and topazes (what colour are topazes again?).
Gold dubloons and silver 50-cent pieces stamped with the queen's bare ass.
Not the gross old queen of today. The hot queen. The good one.
A wealth so vast and insurmountable that any one who stumbled upon it could buy the finest motor home ever seen.
With two TVs aboard!
And they could drive that motor home to the Florida Keys (easily affording the gas).
Park that sucker on the beach.
Loose the awning.
And sit back until eventually dying of...whatever.
So the whispered legend went.
The legend whispered on to say that this Scrooge McDuck score was buried...
...In the belly of a giant squid.
Lucifer the Squid, they called him.
Ebony black, he was, with red eyes the diameter of a jumbo pizza at Hobo's.
He had eaten many a man.
But Lucifer never swallowed them whole, like all of those faerie whales of yorn.
Because squids, like most cephalopods, have a beak-like beak.
Which, upon entwining poor rubes in his tentacles, Lucifer would use to bite the men into portioned, manageable pieces.
So was the story of Lucifer.
Lucifer the squid.

Undaunted, I laden my dory with the necessary provisions:
Squid harpoons; vamps; oka dokas (couldn't find a link); hardtack; a warm cap.
And I ventured out into the frothing spittle of the damnable Atlantic.
Fueled solely by my unerring desire to never have a job.
After 20 months at sea, I discerned, looming and contrary, Lucifer.
Lucifer the Squid.
And, delirious with a lack of dietary variety, I bellowed, "Holy piss! What a size!"
For two days he and I tangoed.
Until the sun crested the convex horizon of the third day.
Illuminating Lucifer the Squid...no more.
A number of his tentacles gnashed in my teeth, I hauled that bastard to a nearby cove.
And, with my treasure knife, I jimmied Lucifer open.
Prepar'd to receive my destiny.
And when I stripped away the mighty stomach lining I beheld what was due to me:
Turpin, homely and not at all gleaming, squinting, said, "Ah, finally!
Alright, I'm ready to go, just help me find my glasses."
What is the relationship between Turpin and I?
She's some unlucky penny I found.