Dungeons and Drabbles: Lobsters
by InvisiblePen
Rating: PG
Pairings: None, unless you're very creative
Spoilers: Massive spoilers for all things PotC.
Disclaimer: I own the action figures and little else. Alas...
Notes: This is going to be a series of very short stories. I hope. With any luck, further bits will be appearing the future. A little encouragement wouldn't hurt, either!


Dungeons and Drabbles: Lobsters

"Wotcha finkin,' Pintel?"

"I'm finkin' I'll hang ye meself if ye don' shut yer trap."

"No no no no. I mean, wotcha finkin' 'bout escapin'?"

"I'm not finkin' 'bout escapin'. I'm finkin' 'bout pullin' out yer good eye an' rammin' it down yer gullet if ye keep runnin' yer fool mouth."

Ragetti, rather put out by Pintel's threat, turned away from his surly companion. Pintel had been out of sorts since the curse was lifted and they had been taken captive by the British navy. Ragetti was far from happy with the situation himself--he hadn't particularly wanted to spend his first days of feeling in the cold dankness of Port Royal's jail--but he was sure Pintel's quick wit would get them out of their current predicament.

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The thin pirate turned his attention to his aching eye socket. Since the lifting of the curse, the splinters from his false wooden eye had become unbearable. He popped the cherished prosthetic out with a sickening squelch and proceeded to fish splinters out of his empty socket as Pintel thought in silence.

After many strenuous moments of silent contemplation, Pintel stumbled upon a plan that, in his mind, was as clever as it was infallible. "Awright, Rags. I fink I have a plan."

Ragetti approached his companion eagerly, more than happy to abandon the difficult task of entertaining himself. After all, picking splinters out of one's own eye socket is only amusing for so long. "Whot is it, Pinters?"

"The way I figger it, one of us needs to pretend sick, see? When them lobsters out there open the door to check on us, we bowls 'em over an' run." Pintel looked expectantly at Ragetti, waiting for the younger man to praise his brilliance. When no praise was forthcoming, he scowled and glared into Ragetti's single eye. "Ye unnerstand, right?"

After a pregnant pause, during which Ragetti's wooden eye rotated thoughtfully in its socket, the thin man shook his head. "That ain't goin' t'work, Pinters."

"An' why not?"

"There ain't no lobsters whot have keys an' hands . They can't let us out wifout those, can they?"

Pintel's notoriously short temper snapped at his companion's idiocy. "The redcoats, ye stupid blighter!" he yelled, his solid hand thwacking the back of Ragetti's equally solid head. The movement sent the younger man's prosthetic flying across the cell.

"Me eye!" Ragetti squeaked, giving chase to the wayward orb. The chase was rather short lived. The gangly pirate promptly slipped on the loose straw that covered the bare stones of the cell. His long limbs shot out every which-way in a futile attempt to avoid the imminent contact with the floor.

Pintel rolled his eyes as Ragetti fell to the ground in a nervous tangle of arms and legs. With considerably more grace than his companion, the stout pirate collected the wooden eye and handed it over to its owner with a scowl.

Ragetti, rather distraught over the recent events concerning his precious eye, couldn't quite remember why Pintel had hit him in the first place. Assuming the incident to be his fault, as it usually was, he mumbled a quiet "'M sorry, Pinters" as he popped the eye back into its rightful place.

The older man, placated by his small victory, resumed his scheming. "Yer forgiven, Rags. Now, 'bout escapin'..."