Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean and its characters, settings, ships and other stuff are all property of Disney and are used without profit in this literary venture. I used my own personal Fourth Wall in this story, though, and it's got the cannonball holes to prove it.

Summary: When the fabled Fourth Wall goes missing, Jack and the crew must take on Mary Sues, crossovers and other non-canon threats to retrieve it. No problem for the greatest pirate to sail the seven seas, right? Trouble is, mate, the seas aren't the only things changing...

Chapter One: Cue The Invisible Orchestra!

The goat was nervous. So was Jack Sparrow.

The pirate captain smiled reassuringly as he poured some wine for his dinner guest. The inside of Tia Dalma's hut wasn't exactly the premiere dining experience in the Caribbean, but the candlelight reflecting off the jars of eyeballs and organ-y things did lend a certain ambiance that was... well, creepy as hell, but it was the best one could do on short notice. "Are we enjoying the evening, dearie?" he asked the goat.

"Mehhhahhahhay," the goat said.

"Splendid!" Jack searched for small talk and came up with... "Er, I do love your bell, belle! Very... shiny."

"Mehhhahhahhay," the goat said.

Jack blanched. "I meant that in a good way, of course! It shows... pride, dignity that you keep it so gleaming!" He leaned in conspiratorially. "If I were not such an upstanding gentlemen, I might even consider snitching it away when you're not looking!"

"Mehhhahhahhay," the goat laughed.

Jack chuckled himself and was about to offer his companion an apple when Gibb's foul breath hit him in the face. "Jack!"

Jack glared at Gibbs straight in the eye, which was the only way he could look at the man while he wore that abominable dress. Honestly, the color pink didn't even work on him. "Gibbs? Can't you see your captain is in the middle of something... delicate?"

"But Jack!" Gibbs groused as he opened his equally pink parasol and twirled it above his head. "It's important!"

Jack sighed dramatically before looking apologetically at the goat. "I'm sorry, love, duty calls. Might I take a rain check so we may continue at another time?"

"Mehhhahhahhay," the goat said.

Whatever that last "Mehhhahhahhay" meant was open to interpretation as Jack Sparrow finally woke up and fell out of his hammock. "Bloody hell, that floor's hard! Mr. Gibbs, remind me to steal a very thick rug the next time we raid the mainland. Maybe something with a bird pattern, tie in with the whole 'Sparrow' theme..."

"Be sure to, Jack!" Gibbs said, now dressed normally and within the social confines of his gender. Wonder of wonders, he still had the pink parasol and was wringing it anxiously in his beefy hands. "But something a bit troubling has occurred while you were resting and, er..."

"Well, out with it man!" Jack shouted. "I've got a bloody awful hangover and seeing three of you isn't helping my mental constitution. Except for the one on the right, he's got a good face on him."

"Thank you, sir," the Gibbs on the right said.

The middle Gibbs (the bad Gibbs, Jack called him, because this one always woke him up before dessert) cleared his throat. "Jack, someone's stolen the... Fourth Wall." Thunder crashed overhead and lightning filled the cabin as an unseen violin played a threatening series of notes.

Jack whirled and glanced warily around his cabin. "Who's playing that instrument?! Come out now, Captain Jack Sparrow orders you to!"

Gibbs cleared his throat again. Guy should really get that looked at. "Jack, that there was one of the signs that the Fourth Wall is missing. It's called a 'dramatic cue', I believe. I must've triggered it when I gave you the news."

"Oh... well, stop doing that!" Jack pulled on his overcoat and slapped his distinctive tricorn hat on his head; instantly, a heroic score started playing. "Dammit, Gibbs!"

"It wasn't me, Jack, it was you!"

"...really? I made that... rather dashing music manifest?"

"Well... you do look rather... heroic."

Jack stared at his first mate, then smiled. "I do, don't I? Well, anyway, let's get down to business." The background music lowered its volume slightly so Jack could speak. "Ah, thank you, Mysterious Invisible Orchestra. As I was saying, lead the way, Mister Gibbs, and fill me in on our current situational cri-sees." Gibbs stared at Jack. "Crisis, my good man, crisis. I told you I was hung over!"

Gibbs led the way to the deck, parasol tucked under his arm. "Well, we was just getting our start on the day when I noticed something a bit... odd."

"And what, pray-tell, struck you as being a bit... odd?" Jack pointed at his first mate threateningly. "And don't even look at me, Gibbs! It wasn't funny the first time and it's still not! I may be a pirate, but I am sensitive. In feelings, I mean. As well."

"Er, of course, never crossed my mind." Liar. "Perhaps you should look at the crew and see for yourself?"

Jack was squinting in the bright sunlight of mid-morning when something occurred to him. "Gibbs, the sky has about much clouds in it as young Will has body hair. Where did that flashy lightning and thunderous-ness come from?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Dramatic cues, they play by their own rules."

"Ah, so they're pirates of plots! Gotta respect that. Back on topic, Gibbs, what is it I should be seeing... oh." The crew that was on deck or in the rigging were not, in fact, working diligently for their beloved and brave pirate captain who would give his life for them in an instant so great was his(Jack! Get away from the keyboard!) They were, in fact, talking into small devices held up to their ears. "What be those boxes they're attached to? Some kind of blocky ear-sucking leech?" Jack was vaguely reminded of an old flame by that description.

"Er, they're cellular phones, Jack. The whole crew has them, we got a 'pirate band' plan at a store in Tripoli a while back... anyhow, they let you talk to people far away by dialing a series of numbers into them. Rather useful things... don't know how we're getting any bars out here, what being in the middle of the ocean and all..."

"But who are they talking to with such interest, Gibbs? Their wenches?"

"No, their agents! With 'At World's End' done they're looking for their next jobs. I heard tell they might be considering a 'Cutthroat Island 2: Geena Davis' Revenge' so..."

"Gibbs! What in the name of me mother's shrunken head are you prattling on about! And what kind of name is 'Geena'?!"

Gibbs looked like he had no idea, either. "Oh, sorry, captain! It's the Fourth Wall! Without it everything gets so damned strange! That's why I woke you; Jack, we have to get the Fourth Wall back or it's madness!" The first mate started waving his parasol around wildy in frustration

Jack caught the parasol and smiled reassuringly. "Alright, alright, you've convinced me. Never thought I'd ever have to steal a wall... well, not again... do we know who took the blasted thing? That would help immeasurably, it would."

"No, but they did leave this calling card." Gibbs reached into his pocket and pulled out a strip of paper.

Jack took the paper and turned it upside down, then right side up again. "'For a good whirl-huh, it's Italy-cized-call "Maelstrom" Melanie at 555..."

A red-faced Gibbs snatched the paper away from Jack and stuffed it into another pocket. "My college advisor, I've been meaning to go back for a while now... aw, here it is."

Jack took the paper and turned it upside down, then right side up again. "For a good time call... I'm kidding, Gibbs, I'm kidding! Well, let's see here... 'If you're reading this, good for you! You're not as dumb as you look!' That's a bit harsh... 'We have stolen the Fourth Wall! Sucks to be you! Signed, the thieves!' Short, to the point, and about as bloody useful as a cell-u-lard phone for Cotton."

"Er, Cotton text messages, actually. Well, the parrot does. Damn if I know how..."

"Bawwk! Free nights and weekends!" Cotton's parrot advertised while Cotton himself used his camera phone to take a picture of Jack and Gibbs. "Free calls outside the Caribbean! Wench wallpapers, va-va-va-va-voom!"

"He wha... oh, bugger it." Jack looked at the note for clues and noticed... "Bloody awful writing. Looks like they were wearing some huge glove when they scratched it out. Do we know anyone who wears bulky gloves, Gibbs?" Gibbs scratched his head with the parasol. "Of course we don't, that was a re-ticular question. Here's an actual question: why are you carrying around that garish parasol, mate?"

"This? Keeps the sun out of my eyes while I'm supervising the crew. Do you think the color's a bit much?"

"Gibbs, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow: Nothing is ever too much. Live in excess I say!" Jack thought heavily for a few moments. "Clearly, we are lacking certain bits of knowledge that would prove useful at this time; therefore, we must take steps to increase our knowledge until we get the bits we 're looking for. As pirates, our best recourse is to share information with our brethren in the hopes of a beneficial trade. And our best locale for information is of course...?"

Gibbs smiled knowingly. "Tortuga."

"Tortuga! Have the crew get off their cell-u-lose phones and open the sails to full." Jack began to walk towards the helm when he stopped. "Gibbs, might you have any knowledge pertaining to... goats?"

"Not particularly. Why?"

"...Just thought I'd ask." The man did sleep with pigs, after all. In the non-biblical sense, of course.

Within no time, the Black Pearl was moored at the lively township of Tortuga. Literally.

"Damn, that was fast!" Jack exclaimed as he marched down the gangplank.

"Scene transition," Gibbs expositioned once again. "First you're in one place, the next you're in another and you've skipped all the mundane bits. Useful, but it wreaks hell on your sleep cycle."

Jack shrugged. "We're pirates, Gibbs, we can sleep when we want! Unless I order us not to. Speaking of me ordering someone about, where is Hector? No way in all the circles of hell am I leaving him alone on my ship."

"Barbossa should be joining us shortly. He... ah, there he is... oh, dear..."

Co-Captain Hector Barbossa was walking toward Gibbs and Jack, obviously having just awoken from a deep sleep and not just because he was barefoot and wearing a pair of pajamas adorned with the face of Jack (the simian Jack, of course). Barbossa yawned heavily, his fetid breath nearly knocking over Jack with its utter stankiness. "It's like the man's still a walking corpse," Jack had once confided to Cotton (or maybe it was to his parrot, who knew?)

Barbossa smacked his lips and fixed his gaze on Jack. The pirate, not the monkey. "So tell me, Captain, what's all this about a wall been stolen and we be the ones setting out to get it back? I hope this isn't at all like what happened last time..."

"Hector," Jack warned, "There's not reasoning to be bringing up that again. It was a simple problem of physicalitiess that made the treasury wall fall onto the Pearl instead of into the bay. We must look to the future, move past our mistakes... and try to watch where we bring down walls from now on. But I digress... you ask why we need to find this Wall and you will be informed..." Jack paused for a good long while. "By Gibbs."

Gibbs blinked, then began to explain once he realized he was the Expositional Character. "Without the Fourth Wall, the whole world is in jeopardy from the chaos unleashed by beings from beyond our universe. From the God's own king to us simple pirates, they'll be no place safe by the next full moon!"

Hector looked mildly concerned. "Well... I would hate for anything to happen to little Jack..."

"Please tell me you mean the monkey," said a much more concerned Jack. "We really should think up a new name for the thing, last week Gibbs thought the little wanker was me!"

"I was... rather drunk, I admit," Gibbs said in his defense. "And it was dark. And the monkey was wearing your hat. Damned if I know how... wait, where is the little beast, anyway?"

Jack felt a stirring under his tri-corn hat and lifted it off of his bandana-enshrouded head. The monkey Jack shot out of the hat with a shriek that was matched in pitch by Jack and Gibb's own hollers. It ran up the gang plank and perched on Barbossa's shoulder, who gave it a peanut and made kissy faces at it. "There's a good boy, yes... yes..." the crusty old pirate crooned. "We'll get you a flea bath as soon as we can, yes, we will."

"You didn't think to give him one before he took up residence in my hat?!" Jack huffed.

"Well, before that he wouldn't have had a chance to catch any!" The two pirate captains glared at each and looked like they were re-enact their sword fight from the first movie, except Barbossa was unarmed and in pajamas.

"Perhaps we should get a move on," Gibbs tried to tell the two adversaries. "It's just now Happy Hour and our best contacts may not be drunk yet."

"What is Happy Hour in Toruga, anyway?" Jack wondered.

"Any hour that's sixty minutes long." The sound of a short clash of drums punctuated the punch line.

"Sorry!" Pintel cried from the galley. "Dropped some pots and pans!"

"Don't you want to change, Hector?" Jack inquired, gesturing at the other man's pajamas.

Hector shrugged. "Hell, we're pirates, aren't we? Not like we have get our wigs powdered to goes ashore. 'Sides, these bottoms are my comfiest outfit, especially when I'm 'free-balling', as it were."

Jack and Gibbs frowned at each other in disgust. "That..." Jack said, "is not the knowledge I was looking to enhance."

"Looks like the governor's being dunked agin," Jack pointed out as the three pirates walked through Tortuga's lively streets; he gestured to the elected official as he was being dipped in the town well by his constituents. "Might that be the reason no one drinks water in this town, you suppose?"

"Might be," Gibbs agreed. "Or it's most likely it's the twenty-four happy hours in a Tortugan day. And the fact that every second building is a tavern. Speaking of which, where are we going for this information about the stolen wall, Jack? A fence, smugglers?"

"No, mate, we're going straight to the source of all moral corruption in the western world," Jack said knowingly.

"A brothel?" Gibbs asked. Hopefully.

"Nowhere near as fun as that," Jack said regretfully. "Ah, here we are."

Barbossa nodded approvingly at Jack's choice while his monkey just threw a peanut at his namesake. "Aye, tis the best place to inquire. Every underhanded deal in the Caribbean passes through this wretched place at some point."

Joshamee "Expositioner" Gibbs looked like he was in dire need of some exposition himself. "It's a rug store. 'Mole's Many Carpets' to be exact. This is the place?"

"Not only that," Jack said with a smile, "I can pick up a thick rug for the next time I fall out of that damn hammock. Something with birds... manly birds, though. Ones that suit Captain Jack Sparrow." Barbossa was mightily tempted to suggest something with flamingos, but he was more than a little afraid Jack would actually like the idea and redecorate the whole damn ship with the pink fowl. "Come, gents! Mind your manners, though, we're dealing with some rough customers."

As the three pirates entered the rug shop they found a brightly dressed man wearing too much jewelry (even for a pirate) dusting off rugs and humming to himself. Running perfectly manicured fingers through spiky yellow hair, the man turned and shrieked at Jack, albeit in a happy fashion. "Oh.. my... gawwd! Look who it is! Captain Jack Sparrow! And a man in cute pajamas! With his monkey out!" Barbossa looked down and grunted in relief when he saw that he was "covered."

"Hello, Fancy," Jack said. "Is that a new eye-patch? I like it; if by chance I ever require one, I would like mine to be of that quality."

"Isn't it precious?" Fancy said. "Confession Time: I don't even need it!" He flipped the jewel-encrusted patch to show he still had both eyes. "I just like the bling! I'm such a shallow bitch, I know, but hey, dress to impress, am I right? Now what can I do for you strapping gents today? I always thought that the Pearl could use some burgundy for that earthy tone..."

"Perhaps we'll look at your wares later, Fance," Jack said. "In the meantime we'd like to shoot the breeze about a certain event that has us concerned... especially poor Gibbs, he's beside himself with worry. Or maybe I'm still drunk, perhaps."

"You're still a little bit tipsy, sir," the Gibbs on the right confirmed.

"Oh, poor Gibblets!" Fancy said as he pinched the middle Gibb's fleshy cheeks; Gibbs tried to smile through the pain as he wondered how such an effeminate little man could be so strong. The perfectly manicured fingers didn't help, either.

"Enough pinching of Gibb's cheeks, Fancy," Jack said. "We're looking for the Fourth Wall, it's been stolen!" Thunder rumbled outside and lightning illuminated the inside of the rug store. "Huh, another dramatic cue. How... dramatic-al."

"Oh, no!" Fancy said, slapping his hands on his own cheeks. "You don't say! Well, I certainly don't know anything about that..."

"Come off it, Fancy! I know that this establishments deals with all the markets for black market interior decoration; if anyone knows who stole the wall it would be your pretty self."

"You think I'm pretty?" Fancy said as he batted his uncovered eye at Jack, then gasped once he realized it was an accusation. "How dare you! I mean, it's perfectly true but... how dare you! I think I'm going to cry... and here I was going to tell you the location of a big hoighty-toighty get-together of the heads of the interior-decorators black-market "

"Now don't be like that," Jack said. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement. What sort of incentive tickles your fancy... er, Fancy?"

"Wellllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll... there is one thing I'd like from you, captain," Fancy said with a smile and a wink at Jack Sparrow.

Jack rolled his eyes. "I told you before, dear, my one love is the sea. And rum. Which are both liquids so I suppose they go together. Come now, is there anything else the captain of the Black Pearl can do for you?"

The intense haggling was interrupted when the sounds of Sir Mix-A-Lot's "Baby Got Back" came bursting out of the chest pocket of Barbossa's jammies. Hector pulled his own cell phone out and flipped it open. "'Ello? Oh, doctor, good to hear from you. Yes, that's right... it's all over his, er, 'private areas'. Has it spread? Don't know... hold on. Jack,. sweetie, please drop your trousers."

"THE HELL!?" Jack Sparrow hollered in shock. Barbossa rolled his eyes and pointed at the monkey sitting on his shoulder. "Oh, ah... right."

Monkey-Jack obliged his owner/parent and dropped his miniature pants; Fancy actually covered his seeing eye and Jack was tempted to ask if he'd ever a seen a naked monkey before, though he knew he'd regret the answer. Jack turned away from the medical drama and told Fancy, "How's about this: I take you on as a crew member and give you one-tenth of the plunder we receive on this little venture. And..." Jack shot a glimpse at Barbossa to be sure he wasn't listening. "I let you redecorate Barbossa's cabin however you see fit. Deal?"

Fancy shook his fists in giddy excitement, then planted a big kiss on Jack's cheek. The human Jack's cheek on his face and not the monkey's... ahem. "You've got a deal, Narrow Sparrow! I'll just go pack my things! Be back in a jiff!" Fancy ran into the back of the shop, kicking his heels in the air and humming a Liza Minelli tune.

Gibbs looked at Jack questioningly. "'Narrow Sparrow'?"

"It's not remotely like what it sounds," Jack said vehemently. "And the details are somewhat gruesome to the ear, so let's drop it, shall we?"

"Dropped like a hot potato, Jack."

"Good man. All of three of you. Damn, that was some good rum last night..."

Hector closed his cellphone (after making a note in its day planner for Monkey-Jack's appointment) and asked Jack, "So, are we done here?"

"Indeed we are, Hector! Fancy will be joining us to direct us to an illicit gathering of unscrupulous characters that will haggle over items of interest until they have over-blown the prices out of proportion of their actual worth."

"That so?" Barbossa said. "I've always wanted to go on Antiques Roadshow."

Author's Note: Chapter one is done, so tell me what you think! Oh, and I'd like to introduce Fancy the OC, the token gay pirate. Say goodbye, Fance.

Fancy: Toodles!

And the goat is CANON! That is all.