Title: The Game of Men

Rating: general to the upmost. but I suppose one could question as to why dear norrington is even there... No! General...

Warning: Chico abuse, a dumb bird

I dedicate this to my cockatiel thats intelligence rates just below a slug and believe I should be woken on a Saturday morning. Here cheers. In fact that's why it's not very good, I wrote it that morning. So, yeah crack!fic.

As day dawned, the battle commenced. The ruthlessness of each side was incomparable, as small black objects flew through the air, most making their mark one way or another. For either force, amount of red was building.

Angered by his foolishness and stupidity to engage in this battle, Captain Jack Sparrow had had enough. He never should have started this. He grabbed the nearest white material (this being an old shirt) and waved it madly in the air.

'Stop! Stop! Parley or whatever!'

A moment's silence arose. Even the parrot that took to avoiding the scene and its mess stopped its continuous squawking. Then…

'So Sparrow, backing down?'

The Jack growled, spitting out, 'That's Captain Sparrow, and could you just stop puttin' bloody holes in my ship!'

'Well, Sparrow,' Commodore James Norrington once again dismissed the Captain's former remark. 'I wouldn't have to if you were to cease being such an obvious give-away.'

Jack gaped at his opponent, an increasingly crazed look in his eye. 'Me? A give-away? How?'

'Occasionally, Mr Sparrow, you think aloud,' Norrington smirked and mimicked the slightly inebriated man, including the flailing of arms. 'Hmm… maybe I shoulda gone further west…'

'Wha- And why didn't you say anything?' Jack yelled accusingly.

'So you can come out of this once again victorious? Not likely.'

The Captain crossed his arms, muttering venomously.

'I'm sorry, 'Captain',' said the Commodore with an air of smugness. 'I didn't quite catch that.

Still glaring, Jack grumbled, 'I said, 'Your turn'.'

'E2.'

Howling in rage, Jack grabbed yet another handful of the small black lollies that Elizabeth had left them.

'Hey! Will you stop throwing them at me! And you've spilt all your red markers!'

The young Will Turner walked back into room that he and Elizabeth kept for times when Jack wanted to stay.

'Jack! Can you please stop wasting those Chicos!' (A/n there like jelly babies, but jelly chocolate, quite gross really)

'I am not wastin' them! They go to a very worthy cause!'

Will sighed. Battleships was indeed not a game for the weak.

'Squawk! Guns to the Navy!'

'Oh, shutup, you stupid bird!'

THE END

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