Mr Full House, a titanic fanfic

Mr. Full House

Summary: Jack Dawson. Oh, how I hated that name. A Sven oneshot.

Jack Dawson. How I hated that name. He stole everything from me—money, dignity, and most importantly—my tickets. Without those hard-earned tickets I couldn't board Titanic. But he could. Oh, how I hated that name. Jack Dawson.

April 12th through April 14th I was a bitter man. I sat on park benches or camped out at someone's house, thinking about the fool he had made me. I had the opportunity to slip away to America were I could learn new things and have new experiences. The land of opportunity! But, alas, two undeserving troublemakers named Jack Dawson and Fabrizio DeRossi snatched my opportunity. Fabrizio, I can forgive. His cards weren't the winning hand, after all.

But Jack—Mr. Full House? No, I thought I would never find it in my heart to forgive such a vile male. He stole almost everything of value to me. I supposed I should have been grateful that he didn't steal the clothes off my back, as well. But I wasn't thinking too clearly then. Would you if you were I? No, you wouldn't.

I had spent six months doing odd jobs around town, hoping to make enough money so I could take my cousin Olaf and I to America. Finally, I was victorious. After months of scrounging and saving and scrimping and making ends meet, I had my money—which I soon transformed into tickets to the free land. Olaf and I rejoiced for many an hour that night, and decided to take our chances in gambling; try our luck a little.

We had always been excellent poker players, if I do say so myself. With a little money that I had left over, we would go from place to place winning money and other various items off of many an unsuspecting person. It became such a habit, addicting and enticing. Our wealth grew larger and larger by the day. We were unstoppable!

Thus came the morning of April 12th, and we both vowed to lay off the cards until the boarded the ship. We didn't want to jinx ourselves, of course. But when Jack Dawson and his buddy walked into that pub bragging about their gambling skills, I knew that we had to do it—just one little game. After all, he was just one more person that I could make utterly embarrassed. He would just be another notch in my bedpost, another name to cross off my list.

But he turned the tables on me. I mean, if I had expected that dirty mongrel to win I never would have bet our tickets! But he did win, and bitter defeat took over where my victory once reigned. For I was no longer going on Titanic, and all doors at that point inevitably closed. Forever. And what did I get out of it? Nothing but a lousy two pair and a black eye mingled with a couple of bruises from when Olaf decided to take his anger out on me.

But that was yesterday. This, this is today. I no longer feel any sadness or regret about my little gambling fiasco. Because when I woke up this morning, the one thing on everybody's mind was the great ocean liner Titanic—and how it sank to the bottom of the Atlantic.

Now? I don't hold a grudge against Jack. He saved my life, actually. If it weren't for Jack, then I would probably be floating frozen in the ocean right now. Dead.

So all I have to say is, thank you Dawson. I forgive you.

So, I decided that Sven needed his own little rant, and here it is :-)

Thanks for reading!

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