L.M. Colburn
Disclaimer: Screw the mouse…but even so, I own nothing.
Author's Note: I am so, so sorry… ;-)
It hat been a long Monday, and this was not making life any easier for Commodore James Edward Norrington. He and Lievtenant Andrew Gillette were making their way to his office to finalize the muster books and various manifests, and James could already envision the mounds of papers on his desk. He could understand why Gillette was making up excuses left and right to not go to the office, but James just dismissed them and told his subordinate to desist with the ridiculous hesitation. But as Norrington opened the door and stopped dead, he discovered what was perhaps the very last thing he would ever expect to find.
"Andrew…there is a donkey in my office."
Lievtenant Gillette cringed, and then peered over the Commodore's shoulder and lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise. "So there is, sir," he said flatly.
"What's it doing there?" the Commodore demanded as he continued to stare at the smallish creature now chewing on one of the wooden chairs with a strict devotion that would have made any commander proud – assuming, of course, that the donkey was a sailor and chewing on wood was a valid naval activity.
"It…appears to be chewing on that wooden chair, sir," Gillette noted.
"Explanation…NOW."
"Well, you see James," Andrew started slowly. "There was a merchant, at the docks, and he had this donkey. And…he was goingtosendhimtothekillers so…" Andrew smiled and scratched his head after the words came fumbling out of his mouth.
"So you took him and put him in my office?" James demanded with an exhausted tone.
"I can explain…Yes I did." Andrew cringed again at the sound of his pathetic answer. "Well look at it this way, he hasn't done much damage."
James closed his eyes to regain his composure. "I feel the need to reiterate the fact that there is an equid in my working space."
"And I apologize profusely for that, sir…"
"He's eating my furniture."
Gillette looked over James's shoulder once more and furrowed his brow. "I thought you didn't like that chair anyway?"
"That's enough, Gillette! Get him out!" Norrington demanded as he reminded himself not to crumple his papers in his fist.
"It's done, sir," Gillette said as he slid through the doorframe and past Norrington's left shoulder. He grasped the donkey's rope halter and stroked its ear. "Come now, Winfield. Someone here is having a case of the Mondays and does not enjoy your company."
"Winfield?" James asked as confusion and disbelief swept across his expression.
"Yes, Winfield," Gillette confirmed as he stroked the creature's short, grey neck. "Or Winni, to his acquaintances. Now if you will excuse me, Commodore, my ass and I shall take our leave."
Gillette moved forward, but Winfield did not follow. Andrew pulled harder, but the donkey stood fast. "He won't budge!" Gillette exclaimed through gritted teeth as he moved behind the donkey to push.
"That's just splendid…" James remarked sarcastically. This day just kept getting better and better. He had already spend the past two hours with an elderly sloop captain explaining to him that NO, the Royal Navy was not going to arrest him on the account that his ship's name is Buccaneer. All that on top of being misrepresented time and time again in fan fictions as a self-serving, evil rapist with poor naval skills simply because the authors cannot be creative enough to create their own villain.
NOTICE: Commodore James Norrington is a good man with strict moral values and sense of duty. He does not burn people, rape people, keep helpless young blacksmiths chained to his bed, or go arresting people just to satisfy his morbid need for superiority. He is a graceful man who does the right thing. So get over it already.
(This public service announcement brought to you by the Norrington Defense League and Nyquil)
"What was that about chaining young blacksmiths to your bed, James?" Gillette asked from behind the donkey.
James turned back from staring at the omnipresent voice and paused in confusion. "Don't even start…"
All that trauma and now the donkey. Elizabeth and Will Turner were due to arrive in an hour or so to discuss their passage to the colonies. It would be an hour that Norrington would spend either with his head on his desk or against the wall. When Elizabeth and will finally did arrive, they would find the Commodore leaning with his forehead and arm against the wall outside his office, Lievtenant Gillette and Private Murtogg valiantly trying to coax the defiant animal with fruit. Mangoes, actually. Do donkeys eat mangoes? I don't think so…maybe that's why he's not moving. Whatever. Back to the story…
"James, there's a donkey in your office," Elizabeth remarked with surprise.
"Yes, I am aware of that, thank you Mrs. Turner," Norrington answered, trying to keep the frustration to a minimum. Suddenly this was looking like another unfortunate episode of "Coupling"…the British version with Jack Davenport, not the crappy American version. That one sucks. NBC should apologize to all the BBC "Coupling" fans and their friends, and their friends' families for the atrocity that was the bastardized NBC "Coupling." Evil, evil bastards…
But the BBC "Coupling" is most excellent and may be purchased at all fine entertainment outlets. Or on Amazon.com. You can buy anything there. Probably your mom.
"So…what's he doing there?" Elizabeth inquired of the donkey's presence, stepping up behind the Commodore.
"Making my life a living hell."
"Oh." Elizabeth crossed her arms and tilted her head a bit as she watched the unfortunate but rather hilarious scene before her. "So who's ass is that then?"
"Gillette's" James said, still leaning against the wall. 'Twas a good wall…
"Really?" Elizabeth was surprised. "Lievtenant I was not aware you had an ass."
"Yes, fine one," Gillette declared as he hauled once more on the donkey's halter. He soon gave up and flung his arms in frustration. "Damn you, Winfield!"
"Fear not, I shall tame that ass," Will declared as he stepped forward after a moment or two of hesitation as he decided how best to save the world. He brandished his sword with great flourish and proceeded to poke the donkey gently on the rump. It was only when an annoyed Winfield kicked him that Will decided that option was not very effective.
So to prove his bravery, courage, and sheer masculinity to the perceived stuffy Naval officers, he knelt beside the donkey and began to stroke its head. Winfield made some obscure noises, and Will made some obscure noises back. Moments later the donkey walked right out of the office and into the hall, much to the amazement of the Commodore and his dumfounded subordinates.
Will shrugged. I was a Junior Chipmunk before coming to the Caribbean, having my ship sunk most inconveniently in the middle of the ocean, and clinging valiantly to a piece of driftwood. I also know how to shoot a bow and arrow, speak beautiful but fake languages, throw dwarves, and bring down entire hoards of war elephants."
Norrington shook his head. "Boy Scouts…"
Gillette was most upset at being upstaged. Almost as pissed off as Keira Knightley. "Dainty silly little fairy man…" he muttered under his breath.
Will spun around on his heel, but not with the same swagger as Jack would. Will probably would have fallen down. "What!?" he demanded.
"Dainty silly little fairy man. Jack Sparrow called you that. It's in chapter 20 of 'Broadsides' if you must know. It is actually one of the many witty comments inserted into a primarily serious and epic drama," said Gillette. When Will looked at him strangely, Andrew sighed. "The author needed a shameless plug for her Jane Austen wannabe novel which is also posted on fanfiction.net, and I suppose that was it."
"I am NOT a dainty silly little fairy man!" Will declared as he drew his sword.
"Well yeah actually, you are, but not in this movie," Gillette corrected.
"Well, you DO look a little bit like a blonde Julia Roberts with that long blonde wig, dear," Elizabeth noted.
"Blond Julia Roberts or no, the world known as Middle Earth would not have survived without my mad arrow-shooting skills," asserted Will. Elizabeth, Murtogg, and Norrington all agreed. The trio then proceeded to break out into a chorus of REM's "It's the End of the World (As We Know It)," mumbling incoherently through a verse and then yelling out "LEONARD BERNSTEIN!" in unison because it was the only part of said verse that they actually knew.
Meanwhile, in the kingdom of Gondor…or the other side of the corridor, actually…Gillette and Will were deeply involved in a heated debate over the actual point value for a single Mordor war elephant. Or whatever they're called.
"You only took down one of those hideous and overrated CGI creatures," Gillette argued.
"War elephants."
"Whatever."
"They were carrying a dozen archers and had really sharp spikes. If that's not worth more than one, I quit," declared Will, crossing his arms in defiance.
"Be my guest, because the movies are over. Besides, the author knows next to nothing about the Lord of the Rings, so your arguments are destined for weakness."
"Well, what does she know about the war elephants?"
"She thinks Industrial Light and Magic is the shit, but she doesn't like the war elephants because they stomped on horses," Gillette said as he wondered why Winfield was suddenly wearing a rather large pair of sunglasses.
"Oh." Before Will could complete his ANGSTING, a green ogre that sounded surprisingly like Mike Myers jumped out from around the corner.
"Donkey!" the Scottish ogre yelled. Instantly Winfield went galloping down the corridor, the jolly green giant following closely behind.
Gillette and Will turned their attention back to Commodore Norrington and Elizabeth, who were discussing the latest episode of "Law and Order: Special Victims Unit" whilst Private Murtogg recited rhetoric in the background. Suddenly Elizabeth changed the subject.
"I signed Will up for the next season of 'Queer Eye for the Straight Guy!'" she declared. Will went white.
"Why on earth did you do that!?" he demanded.
"Because, dear, the mullet is OUT." James chuckled at Elizabeth's remark. Even though Will's hair really didn't qualify as a mullet, it is still true that the mullet is an evil thing that only serves its master, Satan, and shall remain the butt of hair jokes for centuries to come. And I don't care what you say – the 80's are not coming back, and acid jeans are not cool. Elizabeth turned back to James. "And why exactly are you laughing, James? I've never seen your hair."
"I have excellent hair…He makes me gel!" James asserted in his own defense as he pointed to Gillette. Now this WAS sounding like a bad episode of "Coupling"…but Jack Davenport does have great hair. And no episode of BBC's "Coupling" will ever be bad.
"I know all of Kyan's hair keeping tricks," started Gillette. "Kyan's the best of the Fab Five. He's mad hot." And without warning, Gillette whipped out his "I 3 (heart) Kyan" t-shirt.
"Good God, man…this is going way past obsessive," Norrington noted as he stepped away from his subordinate. I can't understand why. The Fab Five is the best thing since sliced bread. I 3 Kyan…
"Bollocks," James said suddenly. He covered his mouth and suddenly the attention of the entire group was focused on him. He knew why…he was surprised too.
"I never thought you to say 'bollocks' James," Elizabeth noted. It's kinda like hearing the Pope swear. But not as holy.
"I don't say it, actually," Norrington commented flatly. And once again everyone was confused.
"Well then, why did you say it?" Will asked. As usual, he was very confused.
"Probably for the same reason that a random ogre with a Scottish accent just went running down the hall." The Commodore was right. The author is strange.
"It could be the Nyquil," noted Gillette. This is true, and Lewis Black is right – Nyquil is the moonshine of medicine. And it does come in Christmas colors. And yes, I'm sure it does make a dandy eggnog…
And suddenly, the story ends. Unlike Steven Spielberg's "AI," which should have ended a good hour before it did. I bet Jude Law won't be remembering that fine piece of work anytime soon. Ha.
Kudos to those who get all the obscure movie and television references that sort of popped randomly into the author's head. Almost as random as Monty Python. But not as funny.
Go read Broadsides by L.M. Colburn on fanfiction.net. Go, go now. Run. RUN LIKE INDIANS ARE CHASING YOU, DAMMIT.
…I don't see you running…
~*~
Holy randomness, Batman!
I don't know what I was thinking, but silly things came into my head so I wrote them down. Can I write comedy? I don't know…you tell me.
Please.
Pretty please.
And go read Broadsides. It's super duper.