Belle: The Murdurous Pirate
Part 2

"You lied to me!" I yell at the pirate who's standing infront of me. He pushes me aside to walk into the mansion.

"What did I lie about?" he asks smugly while sitting on a sofa. His muddy shoes are touching a throw pillow. Don't tell me that I'll have to kill him, too.

"You told me over the phone that you weren't a pirate," I say with my arms folded.

"Ah, that. Well, I'm a retired pirate, but since I'm not a current pirate, it would not be lying for me to say that I am a pirate since that is a former proffesion. Thus, I'd actually be lying to say that I was a pirate because I no-longer am. And becaue I'm now a lawyer and an attorney and not a pirate, I can be your lawyer... and... not a pirate. Savvy?" I stare at him until he must know that I think he's a total idiot. He gets up and throws an arm around my waist, "So what did you do, that you would need me for?"

I slip our of his grip and walk into the kitchen, him following behind. "I killed the beast."

He stares at me and cocks his head to the side.

"Um, here," I pull out a picture of myself standing next to the beast at the theatre that we had visited the month before. Jack stares at the picture and makes a face of dissaproval.

"Eh. Beast. You may not even need me for this."

"What?" I'm completely confussed by him.

"Well, if you were fighting something like that, anyone will believe that it was self-defense. Which it was, right?" he asks. I twirl my hair with my finger, and he seems to get it.

"Don't tell me," he says in shock, "that you and..." He points to the picture, "...were..."

"He was my husband," I say as he nearly throws up in his mouth. Maybe I should have showed a picture that didn't indicate our status.

"That's just disgusting," he says before turning away. "So it wasn't self-defense at all? Not even a little?"

"No," I begin, "he was annoying me, I pushed him down the steps, he died, I had his body taken away by a trash service. I killed all but one witness--"

"Wait! You killed others?!" he yells at me while grabbing the cooking knives and throwing them away in a new trashcan (that's not alive).

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you!" I yell angrily, while stopping him, "If you represent me, you'll have nothing to worry about."

"My friend, Davy Jones, would like someone like you on his ship. Have you ever thought of a new role of employment?"

"No." I give him an evil glare to put him back in his place. He takes the hint and sits down in a chair across from where I'm standing.

All business, he asks, "Who else did you kill, do they matter, and what's your story?"

I take a moment to think, "I killed the trashcan, a tea pot, a clock, and maybe some other things. I don't really remember." He nods me on. Maybe he's too drunk to realize that none of this makes sense. I continue anyway, "Nobody knows about them except the one witness--the dresser. I don't think that we have to worry about her, though. Nobody in court will believe that those... things... that I killed were actually alive."

"Okay, so that's settled. Now, what's the story for it all?"

"My story..." I say to myself. "Self defense. You said that it would work, right?"

"Probably," he says non-chalantly, placing his still muddy boots onto my counter. That's really getting annoying.

"I'll say that he was trying to attack me, I managed to push him, he fell down the stairs..." I pause. There's a flaw with the story. "They'll ask me about what happened to the body."

"Eh... Do you have wolves in these parts?"

"Yes, but what does that--" he inturupts me.

"Say that a pack of wolves came in and ate him."

"Will anyone believe that?" I ask. I don't think that that could ever happen.

"I've seen it before," he smiles. "Well, kind of. It was more wet, and it involved sharks. But, same concept."

"Oh..."

"Yeah. So, wolves came in to eat the body..."

"Um, someone called the cops," I say, trying to make this all work, "but it was too late, I got nervous, and I told them that it was untrue. Can I say that?"

"Sure," he says.

"Then I called a lawyer because someone had blamed me of murder."

"Who is this someone?"

"The dresser, remember?"

"Ah, yes! The dresser, the dresser. How could I forget?"

"How could you remember? How much have you had to drink today?"

Jack stands up and shakes his finger at me, "I've barely had any at'all!" He then pauses and looks over to the fridge, "do you have any rum?"

I roll my eyes and move out of the way of the fridge so that he can drink down a bottle of champagne and a cup of rum. How he does that, I'm not really sure, but it's pretty much disgusting.

"So..." I say.

"So?" He looks at me with a bottle to his mouth.

"So. When do we go to court?" I ask, throwing my arms in the air since I've lost my patience intirely.

"I can probably put us in for tomorrow," he says before finishing off a slice of cake that's in the fridge, too.

"Really?!" That's one peice of good news.

"Yeah. Let me go talk to the dresser, I'll tell her everything, we'll get into court tomorrow, and this will all be settled down and rummy."

"Rummy? Is that even a word?"

He shrugs his shoulders and walks off to go talk to the dresser.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow this will all be finished up with. Tomorrow, I can start making an idea with Fox about a new reality show. Maybe something along the lines of the Bachelorette. Who knows.