Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned the rights to Pirates of the Caribbean.
The Sins of Captain Jack Sparrow
By
Runt Thunderbelch
"I want to die. I want to die. I want to die," mumbled Captain Jack Sparrow as he shambled across the floor of his one-room, um, "cottage." He shielded his eyes from the dazzling dawn. "If God were good and kind and loving," he philosophized, "why would He shine a light like this into the eyes of a man with a hangover?"
The pain in his head wanted to cleave his skull in two. His stomach rose and fell like a fo'csle in a gale-force wind. He concentrated on holding down his rising gorge because one of the problems with living in a one-room, um, cottage was that, if you were sick in it, you had to endure the smell.
Coffee! He needed coffee. He made his way to a cupboard, took out his canister of coffee beans and opened it. With growing despair he looked down upon the mortar and pedestal which he'd need to grind the beans and at the stove in which he'd need to build a fire. That was so much work. He popped several beans into his mouth and began to gnaw on them.
He noticed he was naked. What should he do about that? Most likely nothing. He couldn't imagine what his skull would do to him if the bent over to pull on his pants.
There was a knock on his door. The pounding ricocheted around in his brain like a bullet in a bar fight. He lunged for the door before the perpetrator had enough time to knock again.
He flung open the door to find "Giselle!" beautiful, lovely, desirable, lecherous Giselle! "You look wonderful!"
"You look horrible," she replied.
"I assure you, I feel worse."
"Poor Jack."
He held out the still-open canister. "Coffee?"
Giselle was looking past him now, and her eyes darkened like thunderclouds in a gathering storm. WHAP! The slap from her hand nearly twisted his head off. He heard the steps of her tiny feet retreating back down the stony path.
What had he done to deserve that?
His eyes began to focus and he espied Lila, Griselda and Pam sprawled naked across his bed. Well yes, there was that. He went over and sank next to the bed into the, um, cottage's only chair.
Pam stirred. "Who was that?"
"Giselle."
"What did she want?"
"She didn't say," replied Jack. "I offered her coffee, but she didn't want any."
"Coffee?" Pam saw the canister. She took several beans out and popped them into her mouth. "I feel terrible."
"Me too."
"I think I may have to be sick."
"Me too."
"I am never going to do anything like this ever again."
"Me too."
"And this time, I really mean it."
Jack nodded miserably. "Me too."