a/n: This idea literally JUST came to me. I swear I'm not making fun of any stereotypes...this is just a funny parody fic. James Cameron owns Titanic and it's characters!
"Titanic was called the "Ship of Dreams", and it was, it really was..."
Outside, the ocean was a dark teal color, and the sky was blue-ish with twinkling stars. The RMS Titanic sailed off full speed ahead towards New York, swaying gently as it rode the waves. 18-year-old Helga Dahl slept peacefully in her bunkbed, directly below her parents.
She was back in Norway. But not on their family's farm in Buskered-no! She was standing looking down over the fjords, a few hundred feet below her, were three giant polar bears standing on the ice.
One of them, the biggest, wore a traditional bunad that looked like something her father might wear for a special holiday. The second biggest, the middle one, was holding some sort of cane. The last one, smaller than the others, wore a top hat like the rich men on the ship had.
She crept slowly closer, and could hear the bears speaking Norwegian. Of course, she could understand what they were saying, but was utterly confused at the fact that they were speaking at all.
Suddenly, all three bears broke out in a synchronized dance. Norwegian folk music echoed through the fjords, and she had absolutely no idea where it was coming from.
She sort of wanted to run away, frightened that the polar bears were acting so animated, but soon discovered that watching them dance relaxed her. The whole ground began to gently sway back and forth, and the smell of the sea became more distinct to her.
"Isbjorn..." Helga mumbled, happily turning over in her bed. "...dans..."
The ship sped up a bit as they headed towards their final destination; America. Other than the sounds of his roommates; the Gunderson cousins and Jack Dawson, snoring, his cabin was quiet.
19-year-old Fabrizio De Rossi was finding out that he slept very well on ships, he liked the barely-noticeable but still somewhat noticeable feeling of being rocked.
He was back in Italy, in his mother's kitchen in their house on the outskirts of Venice. He could smell the water, the vineyards, and lots and lots of cheese in the air. When he lived there, he could sometimes smell those things while outside, but never in his house.
Just then, he realized that there was a plate in front of him. On it was a nice big slice of pizza. The gooey cheese, creamy tomato, and enticing smell of parmesean and oregano, was too much for him to handle. He greedily reached out and grabbed it, he was starving!
"Aspettare! No eat a' me! Per favore!"
He threw the slice of delicious cheesey greatness, back on the plate. It had just spoken to him! The last time he'd checked...pizza didn't speak.
"Cazzo!" He swore, startled. "You a' speak?"
"Si signore!" the pizza replied.
He shook his head in discomfort, and reached for the slice of pizza that lay on a plate beside him. This slice was thinner than the other one, but it would have to do. Just as he went to take a bite...
"Hey affanculo!" the pizza yelled, infuriated.
This time, he threw the pizza across the room, where it cursed at him again. Deciding to try just one more time, he reached for one last slice that lay on the third place setting.
"No! Put a' me down!" the last piece of pizza shouted in alarm.
He released the last slice, shaking his head back and forth, and looking around to see if anyone else was in the house. If his mother were to walk in and see what was going on, she wouldn't be pleased.
Before he knew what was going on, the second slice of pizza leapt up from the floor, and began to shake him. Since it was just a slice of pizza, it couldn't shake him very hard. It actually felt more like a gentle rocking motion. He looked out the window to see some gondolas on the water. The water...
"La pizza stupido!" Fabrizio groaned, letting his arm fall over the side of his bed.
Directly across the hall, 21-year-old Tommy Ryan was passed out in his bed, after drinking way more than his weight in gold at the steerage party. He was so out of it, he didn't know, nor did he care, where he was. Sometimes too much beer caused him to have some strange dreams.
The bright green rolling hills, the salty smell of salmon swimming in the sea, and a colorful rainbow out in the distance. That is what he saw when he looked out from where he was standing, in front of his family's farm in Kildare, Ireland.
All he could think about was his Mam's porridge, all the whiskey and beer he could drink, and being home sweet home. As much as he wanted to go and find his family, the idea of a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow intrigued him greatly.
He was poor, he knew, if he could only get lucky enough to get his hands on some gold. So he decided to run for it, go for the gold. He sprinted through the never-ending fields, until finally, he somehow managed to catch up with the rainbow.
Sitting at the very bottom, underneath the violet arc, were three leprechauns. "Where's me gold?" He demanded.
"What gold?" the first one, who had flaming red hair, asked.
"Mine! I reached the end have I not?" He yelled.
"Who is 'ta say this is the end?" the second one, with a long gray beard, challenged.
"I'm 'ta say! It took me hours, an' now I want me gold!" He shouted, getting annoyed with the tiny creatures of Irish myth.
"It's not the end of the rainbow til' we say so!" the last one, with a brown mustache and green bowler hat, told him with a smirk.
Needless to say, he was very frustrated. His granfather had told him stories as a young lad about how tricky leprechauns could be at times, especially when it came to protecting their gold.
He had an idea. "What if I trade-ya all me clothes, an' you can watch me run back home in the nude, get a good laugh?" he offered. He knew leprechauns could fancy a fair bargain.
The first leprechaun looked at the others, which caused the last leprechaun to grin. "Deal," the second one answered for them.
He took off all of his clothes, and the three leprechauns handed over their gold in a big black cauldron. He ran all the way home, the sounds of the wee creatures laughing all the while floated in his ears. When he walked inside his house, his parents and sister were eating supper at the table.
"Look! We can be rich now! I've found the end of the leprechauns' rainbow!" He exclaimed with a triumphant grin.
"Oh Tommy, you foolish boy! Can't you see you've been played? Look at'cha...wearin' no clothes!" His father yelled, shooing his sister out of the kitchen.
"I traded me clothes to give 'em a laugh, in exchange for their gold!" He explained.
"Well I'm glad to see it worked out fer ya, these coins are fake!" His mother screamed, throwing her arms up in exhasperation.
His gaze flew towards the window, where the three leprechauns sat laughing and pointing.
"Feckin's shite...bloody leprechauns..." Tommy grumbled, throwing his blankets on the floor because he was too hot.
The next morning, all three of them had somehow ended up in the general room, probably due to sleepwalking in their bizarre dreams. Fabrizio and Helga were cuddling on one of the benches, and Tommy was asleep under said bench with drool hanging off his chin.
For some odd reason, they were all having a dream about a bunch of leprechauns who got lost in Norway, eating pizza. Talking pizza.
a/n: Hope you enjoyed this...I thought it was funny considering I wrote this at nearly 1 AM. XD