**Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean, only Manitoban Mongul Pirates. I do own Johnny Depp. He lives in my basement where I feed him on table scraps, letting him out once in awhile to make excellent movies! Actually, I don't own Johnny, but don't you wish I did?! Oh wow.. I could loan him out to yas for brithday parties... Anyway. I'm Canadian and so I can write a story about Canadian pirates of the Caribbean. I don't own the Caribbean, but I do own Trudeauland, death-less terminator furbys and anything else I descide to throw in here.**
A warm breeze wafted through the windows of the governor's residence. It was a humid Caribbean night; the sky was illuminated by a glorious congregation of stars, and a baleful moon, reflecting off of the still waters about Port Royal. The moonlight streamed into the window, and spread thinly across the floor. Its pale glint settled upon a small, fluffy creature standing near the bedside of Governor Swann.
"Yummmhhh..." Murmurred the sleeping governor. "Humm.. rmm... yes, my dear. Pirate.. excellent choice." He let out a short, loud snort-like snore. "Have lots of handsome pirate babies- I am delighted!.. hmmmm...." The moonlight shone off of the bald head resting on the pillow, and it's few whispy hairs waving valiantly in the breeze.
The little creature waddled away from the governor, and looked up at a what looked like a coat rack. The creature lacked arms, flippers, or wings of any kind and so it ran it's fluffy head into it. The rack tipped and fell, clattering on the floor.
"Huh?! What?" Exclaimed the now not sleeping governor. The creature turned to him and replied:
"Beeeebu."
"Aaiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!" screeched the governor. "My word! Wha-wha-what is that- that thing?!"
"Ooooohh... Bebu want huuuuuug." Said the creature as it waddled slowly towards the cowering, bald man.
"Aaaagh! No, no! Get ba-a-a-ck!" he said shakingly. His eyes beheld the fallen coat rack, where he kept his wig of mightiness. His wig now lay on the floor beyond the furby- for a furby it was!
"I luv you!" cooed Bebu-furby "Want huuuuuug."
"I would have you know, that I don't go for that sort of thing, sir! I request that you depart... immediately!" Still the furby approached. "Go awaaaaay! heeeeeeeeh!" Wheezed the governor as he became even more hysterical and school-girl like (sorry to all school-girls who do not in fact sound like hysterical wiggy English governors of islands in the Caribbean). As he stared, he noticed a second furby approach his wig. It slid it across the floor until it could wiggle under it.
"No! No! Not my wig!" cried the governor. "Noooooooooo!!!!" He was going to throw caution to the wind and make a dive for his wig. He could do it- he had arms, hands with opposable thumbs and everything. But- he looked to his right.
"Luv you."
"Huuuuuug."
"Mista Swwwwwaaaaaannn-nuh."
"Me want hug."
"Oooooooooohhhh.... eep!"
Governor Swann's bed was covered with cooing furbys. Five of them climbed onto his belly and snuggled up to it's tubbiness.
"Ah!" quietly squeeked the governor. "ah!" and fainted.
The furbys on the bed looked up. The ones on the floor leaped towards the window, as a signal to depart.
"Yo, let's ditch this jive losah!" said the furby now wearing governor Swann's wig. And so they all escaped, through the window, into the Caribbean night with the wig of one governor Swann of Port Royal.
A warm breeze wafted through the windows of the governor's residence. It was a humid Caribbean night; the sky was illuminated by a glorious congregation of stars, and a baleful moon, reflecting off of the still waters about Port Royal. The moonlight streamed into the window, and spread thinly across the floor. Its pale glint settled upon a small, fluffy creature standing near the bedside of Governor Swann.
"Yummmhhh..." Murmurred the sleeping governor. "Humm.. rmm... yes, my dear. Pirate.. excellent choice." He let out a short, loud snort-like snore. "Have lots of handsome pirate babies- I am delighted!.. hmmmm...." The moonlight shone off of the bald head resting on the pillow, and it's few whispy hairs waving valiantly in the breeze.
The little creature waddled away from the governor, and looked up at a what looked like a coat rack. The creature lacked arms, flippers, or wings of any kind and so it ran it's fluffy head into it. The rack tipped and fell, clattering on the floor.
"Huh?! What?" Exclaimed the now not sleeping governor. The creature turned to him and replied:
"Beeeebu."
"Aaiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!" screeched the governor. "My word! Wha-wha-what is that- that thing?!"
"Ooooohh... Bebu want huuuuuug." Said the creature as it waddled slowly towards the cowering, bald man.
"Aaaagh! No, no! Get ba-a-a-ck!" he said shakingly. His eyes beheld the fallen coat rack, where he kept his wig of mightiness. His wig now lay on the floor beyond the furby- for a furby it was!
"I luv you!" cooed Bebu-furby "Want huuuuuug."
"I would have you know, that I don't go for that sort of thing, sir! I request that you depart... immediately!" Still the furby approached. "Go awaaaaay! heeeeeeeeh!" Wheezed the governor as he became even more hysterical and school-girl like (sorry to all school-girls who do not in fact sound like hysterical wiggy English governors of islands in the Caribbean). As he stared, he noticed a second furby approach his wig. It slid it across the floor until it could wiggle under it.
"No! No! Not my wig!" cried the governor. "Noooooooooo!!!!" He was going to throw caution to the wind and make a dive for his wig. He could do it- he had arms, hands with opposable thumbs and everything. But- he looked to his right.
"Luv you."
"Huuuuuug."
"Mista Swwwwwaaaaaannn-nuh."
"Me want hug."
"Oooooooooohhhh.... eep!"
Governor Swann's bed was covered with cooing furbys. Five of them climbed onto his belly and snuggled up to it's tubbiness.
"Ah!" quietly squeeked the governor. "ah!" and fainted.
The furbys on the bed looked up. The ones on the floor leaped towards the window, as a signal to depart.
"Yo, let's ditch this jive losah!" said the furby now wearing governor Swann's wig. And so they all escaped, through the window, into the Caribbean night with the wig of one governor Swann of Port Royal.