Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

This is a parody. Expect anachronisms galore and possible OOC-ness

Thanks for the reviews so far. Glad you are all enjoying this fic and the inherent insanity.

Broadcast 3

A tavern in Shipwreck Cove, which is actually the deck of a beached galleon. Teague and his first mate are strolling amidst the customers, most of whom are drunk and brawling, with fists, furniture and pistol balls flying.

Teague: Where're Willy and the bairns? Thot they would be gettin' a bite here wi' me before we leave...

Honest Tom: Miz Willy took off on the Bloody Mary with the eventide, captain. Said the place ain't child-friendly. (dodges a flying bottle)

Teague: Ain't child-friendly? It doesn't git much more child- (stepping on a squishy dark-red thing on the floor) Oops, Someone left his liver here…

Honest Tom: Watch out, Captain!

Warning comes too late and a cream pie smacks Teague in the face. Dead silence falls over the deck as everyone realises someone just pie-d the Code Keeper.

Honest Tom: Oh dear… (ducks behind a sturdy barrel as Teague lets fly with pistols in both hands)

The tavern rapidly empties of customers, now sobered and leaping over the side, with a few lying motionless or groaning on the floor. Teague blows smoke from his spent pistols.

Teague: I believe it is time for the broadcast. Let's start with the weather report. Choppy seas with gales off the Horn. Hurricanes expected off Florida. Iceberg warning for those doing the Newfoundland run. Sharky weather for the Slaver's Triangle due to enthusiastic keelhauling by our mates. Nothing like a whiff of blood to bring the sharks in. This rotten weather report is brought to you courtesy of the Sailing School of Hard Knocks. Sail or sink, allow the School of Hard Knocks to knock it into your noggin.

Honest Tom: (hurrying out from hiding): News on the rum-run. It is confirmed that premier rum runnin' gang, Rum R Us, have closed their operations permanent like due to an unfortunate ride up to the yardarms of a man o'war with aid of a runnin' noose. We mourn the passin' of our most prolific rum runners. Mariners in the Bahamas may expect a dip in their grog quality and a rise in cost -

Tia Dalma: (calling from a rowboat below) Hallo! Someone call'd fer a witch-doctor? (climbs on board with aid of a rope ladder) Dis da patient? Left it too late ah see. (pokes a dead pirate with a cutlass sticking out of his back)

Teague: Sorry, ma'am, we didnae call fer a witch-doctor. (Doffs hat to Tia as he is a gentleman after all) perhaps ya would like tae be on our humble show so as not to waste yer trip here?

Tia Dalma: Don't mind if ah do. (catches sight of something on the floor) Eyeballs! Mebbe dis no be wasted trip! (starts picking up scattered eyeballs and other bodily bits)

Honest Tom: We don't have time for a guest- (gets shushed by Teague pressing a pistol to his chest)

Teague: Scratch the Agony Aunt segment and we will have enough-

Phone rings just as Tia Dlama is scooping up someone's ears from under the table. She picks up phone.

Tia Dalma: Hallo?

Blackbeard: My officers are getting a tad rebellious, I could end the argument making them walk the plank, but it is getting hard to find skilled seamen given my, ahem, reputation.

Tia Dalma: Voodoo. Zombies dem always work hard and dem no talk back. (hangs up. Phone rings again and Honest Tom answers)

Cotton's parrot: Squawk! I am an intelligent bird but I have to speak for an imbecile owner! Squawk! Squawk! I can recite the Bible cover to cover, in Latin and English! Also the Diamond Sutra, Torah and the Koran. I do Chinese poetry! I want to sing on Broadway! I want to be a star!

Honest Tom: We have a parrot on the line, sir.

Cotton's parrot: Squawk! He makes me say lame seafaring stuff like 'Shiver me timbers' and 'Avast'… (sees an angry Cotton standing behind him) Oh-oh… Yea, as I walk in the vale of the shadow of d… SQUAWK! (gets throttled by irate owner)

Teague: No one's on the line, Tom. Must have hung up. Ma'am? (turns to Tia Dalma) Would you like to introduce some folk medicine or summat to our listeners?

Tia Dalma: Ah show dem how make Cajun gumbo. De-li-cious dish fresh from da bayou. (opens up her hempen pouch and hauls out an illogically large amount of ingredients and crockery to amazement of the pirates)

Teague: (aside to Tom) How does she do that?

Honest Tom: Must be a doorway to another dimension thing, Capt'n. Seen a few of those about…

Ulysses from Homer's Odyssey pokes his head out of a nearby hatch.

Ulysses: Penelope, sweetie-pie! Your hunky Greek hubby's home! (looks around) Hey, this is not Greece. Damned portals…Now, do I make a right turn at the Bermuda Triangle or- (ducks below)

Tia Dalma: Add da red pepper, dem crayfish… Boil dem wi shrimp… Add what'ver ya fancy (lapses into an obscure French Creole dialect with a very thick accent)

Angry Housewife: (phoning in) Hey, speak the King's English! I cannot understand what she's saying! How am I to cook your gumbo if I can't understand the recipe?

Tia Dalma is happily rambling on and dumping a slew of ingredients and seafood into the pot she had bubbling on a stove.

Tia Dalma: Want fish-heads wi da gumbo, mon capitaine?

Teague: Sounds good. Anything ya fancy, Tom?

Honest Tom: Mustn't forget de crab. I like crab. (scoops up a live crab from the table top and drops it into the boiling water)

Tia Dalma stops and stares in horror at now-dead crab floating in her pot.

Tia Dalma: Aiiieee! Ya murderer! (whacks Honest Tom with her ladle and cusses him soundly)

Teague: I think that was her pet, Tom, not an ingredient… (watches Tia Dalma unleashing her wrath on his hapless first mate) Mmm, needs a pinch of sea salt (tastes the gumbo)

Author's Notes:

The amount of bloodshed is upping with every broadcast. At this rate, this fic will end up M-rated if I don't watch it.

I have included Cotton's poor parrot in this broadcast. They say parrots are no bird-brains.

Tia Dalma's cookery session was a failure, unfortunately. Don't worry too much about Honest Tom. She'll let him off, eventually.