These events take place immediately after those in "The Legend of the Black Pearl."
Disclaimer: I make no claim on the intellectual property rights of "Pirates of the Caribbean." This story produces no revenues. It exists merely to bring joy and merriment into the readers' otherwise drab, dreary and wretched lives.
Jack Sparrow Must Die!
By
Runt Thunderbelch
Chapter 1: The Richest Man on Tortuga; Beer Brawl in the Devil's Playground; Breakfast; An Explosion; Holding onto a Shark's Tail
"Is it true what they say about you, guvnor?"
"That depends, luv," replied Captain Jack Sparrow. "If what they say is bad, then it's almost certainly true. If it's good, then not so much."
Azelia dropped a pretty little curtsey. "They say you're the richest man on the Isle of Tortuga."
"Aye luv, I expect that's true."
Azelia was one of those wenches whose chest was far too big and who blouse was far too small. Jack liked her a lot.
Cerelia next to her also dropped a curtsey. "Some say, you're the richest man in the whole Caribbean."
"Well," Jack thought about this, "that might be true."
Cerelia had the face of an angel who'd just been kicked out of Heaven for bad behavior. Jack liked her a lot too.
Ennea next to them also dropped a curtsy. "Some say, you're the richest man in all the world."
"The world's an awful big place, luv."
Ennea had hair as smooth and as silky as spun gold. Jack liked gold a lot. She took a step forward and whispered, "They say you voluntarily took on the Curse of Cortez so's you could battle the pirate captain who was so evil that Hell itself spat him back out. They say you killed the blighter, and thereby seized the captaincy of The Black Pearl. That's the legendary cursed ship that's been plundering the seas for ten years. As captain, you claim the captain's share of her treasure, the fabulous treasure of the Isla de Muerta . . . not a seaman's share mind you, but the captain's share! They say, that this share has made you wealthier than anyone could ever imagine."
"That's what they say?" Jack and the three serving wenches were all out on the owner's private, seaside balcony of a tavern called The Devil's Playground. Jack had recently purchased The Devil's Playground and had also purchased the largest villa on the Isle of Tortuga. "There's not a word of truth to that. I'd swear on a stack of Bibles. Now luvs, go and fetch me breakfast."
The three serving wenches simultaneously curtseyed, causing all of their bosoms to bob enticingly. That wasn't fair. Six bouncing boobies, and Jack had only two eyes to ogle them with. It was an impossible task. The women turned and sashayed off to get his breakfast.
From inside The Devil's Playpen came the sounds of growls, vicious blows, crashes, kicks, yowls, shattering furniture and curses as the never-ending brawl continued. Most taverns hired muscle-bound bully boys to keep the peace. But why spend all that extra money on their salaries, when everybody inside was having such a lovely time?
A chair shattered glass as it came sailing out of a window, flew passed Jack, and fell into Cayona Bay below.
In the east, the sky had turned into a brilliant swirl of rose and yellow as dawn quickly approached. Overhead, seagulls mewed as they searched for their own breakfasts out in Cayona Bay.
Jack sat back, anticipating his breakfast of steak and eggs, golden brown toast with freshly churned butter and guava jam, some assorted fruit, juice of mango and (right off a prize ship from the Spanish Main) coffee, steaming hot with rich cream and pure cane sugar. After breakfast, he'd head back to his palatial villa where he'd get himself a good night's . . . er, he glanced over at the approaching dawn . . . a good day's sleep.
Life couldn't get any better.
A coconut-sized ball trailing what looked like a sparkling pixie wand soared out the window and bounced across the balcony towards Jack. Normally, he'd have yelled, "Grenade!" but there was nobody else to yell it to, and there was no sense yelling it at himself because he already knew what it was.
Jack shrieked, toppled over backwards in his chair, rolled until he came up against the railing, heaved himself up over the railing and plummeted down into Cayona Bay. He swam downwards as far as he could.
A thunderous explosion shook the world, and the sea above him turned orange, and red, a violet, and white.
Someone had tried to kill him!
Who would want him dead? Well, there was . . . He started making a list in his mind. It was a rather long list, and he was starting to run out of air, so he'd continue the list later. He made one final look around before heading back to the surface.
A huge, white shark was charging at him, its mouth wide open, its teeth coming at him like a million jagged daggers. The next thing he knew, he'd punched the shark in the nose. The startled beastie turned to swim away, but "away" seemed to be an excellent direction to go, and so Jack grabbed its tail.
As a general rule, sharks don't like people hanging onto their tails, and so the monster shook it violently from side to side as it swam. But Jack was desperate and, at that moment, not all the king's horses, or all the king's men could separate Jack from his reluctant rescuer. He held on for dear life!
But there was that whole "air" situation. Jack's lungs went from being slightly uncomfortable, to becoming extremely concerned, to being desperate, to screaming air-give-us-air! He finally let go of the shark's tail, and it fled. Jack fled upwards to the surface of the bay and then, gasping, towards the shore. There were a few fish in the area, but they didn't hang around either.
Jack flailed through the water. His breath shrieked in-and-out of his nearly asphyxiated chest as his brain screamed, Someone tried to kill me! Someone tried to kill me! Someone tried to kill me!