A/N: Here's another chapter after a long long time. Sorry for the wait. And many thanks to TheDreamChild for sending me that link!
Parody of the Caribbean: Dumb Man's Composition
Short Alcoholics and Kraken Chow
Soldier (bringing Will into Beckett's office): The prisoner, milord.
Beckett: Remove those shackles, we can be civilized here.
Beckett pours some kind of alcohol into two very expensive glasses and offers Will one.
Will: I won't share a drink with the likes of you. Besides, I'll only have rum.
Beckett: Suit yourself.
He downs the whole glass.
Will: Dude, maybe you should take it easy there. Small people get drunk faster.
Beckett glares at him. This William Turner must not be very smart to remark upon his height.
Beckett: You think it's funny that I'm short Turner? I'm sure Mercer could remedy that.
He snaps his fingers and Mercer steps out of the shadows with a giant ax.
Will (feigning innocence): I wasn't remarking upon your height, I was merely remembering how hilarious the midget was when we got him drunk. So what do you want?
Beckett: I want Jack Sparrow.
Will: Obviously, otherwise I wouldn't have been arrested.
Beckett: You're powers of observation are astounding Mr. Turner. No, I want you act as the middleman in a business agreement between me and Jack Sparrow. I'd say that I wouldn't touch him with a hot poker but I already have, catch my drift?
He does a flippy sword trick with his pirate brand poker, smashing some of the lights. Will snorts in amusement.
Will: You know, I could replace those for a fraction of the cost...
Beckett: I think you should worry more about this deal we're in the middle of. I want you to recover something from Jack Sparrow.
Will: With a sword?
Beckett: If it comes to that yes.
Will: Good.
Beckett: These are Letters of Marque. They offer a full pardon and employ as a privateer for the English crown.
Will: I think your views on freedom and employment are slightly skewed. Jack's not gonna like this.
Beckett walks out onto his balcony and Will follows.
Beckett: Freedom is a myth Mr. Turner. The world is shrinking; the blank edges of the map are being filled in as we speak. Mr. Wilkins is very fast with a paintbrush. Jack must find his place in the New World or perish. There is no for pirates.
Will: So you want Jack and the Black Pearl?
Beckett: The Black Pearl?
Will: What Jack has that you want?
Beckett: No, I don't want his ship. Mine are better anyway. No, the item I require is a lot smaller and kept on his person at all times: a compass.
Will tries to remain stony faced but he sucks at it.
Beckett: I knew you knew what I was talking about.
Will: Nope, no idea.
Beckett: Too late for that Mr. Turner. Bring me that compass or I'll make you fiancée's lovely neck a lot less lovely.
Will: Everyone's always saying that.
On the Black Pearl Jack is pouring over a mad with little luck; his compass still doesn't work. He taps it and then throws it across the room before realizing what he's done and picking it up gently and apologizing to it. He decides that map reading is out of the question and rum solves everything. But the rum is gone.
Jack (out loud to himself): Make note to check brig for Miss Swann, Mrs. Turner or whatever her name is now.
He stands up to find more rum and realizes it's gone because he drank it.
Jack: Blame the Jack...bwhahahaha...oh God I'm drunk.
He trips his way below decks and takes in the sight of his snoring crew, lying in each others hammocks and using each others stomachs for pillows.
Jack: I think it's going rather well, don't you?
Cotton's Parrot: Awk! Blame the rum! Awk!
Jack: Truer words were never spoken mate. Carry on.
He finally finds his way to the rum locker, which is bloody huge and bloody empty, except for a bottle of sand.
Voice In The Darkness: Time's run out Jack.
Jack: I know I'm not that drunk. You here Cotton's Parrot?
Cotton's Parrot: Awk! Why's the rum gone! Awk!
Voice In The Darkness Who Turns Out To Be Bootstrap Bill: Hello mate, you look good.
Jack: You'd be surprised what running away from Miss Swann can do for your health. Sorry, the future Mrs. Turner. Whatever.
Bootstrap: Future Mrs. Turner?
Jack: Yep. She's only marrying him because I'm a pirate and poor Pompous Wig disappeared. Is this a dream?
Bootstrap: Nope.
Jack: Right, cause Miss Swann would be here if it was I reckon. She's good at that.
Bootstrap: I bet there'd be rum too.
A rum bottle materializes out of nowhere on a barrel next to Jack.
Jack (picking up the rum, sniffing it and drinking it): You sure this ain't a dream?
Bootstrap: Certain. I see you got the Pearl back.
Jack: Yep. Young William helped me get it back too.
Bootstrap: I always knew he'd be a pirate.
Jack: Oh, he's not a pirate. He just thinks he is. And he does a terrible job. Tries to be honorable at the wrong time and never ever gets the opportune moments right.
Bootstrap: Well, he learned from the best, so I guess there's not much we can do.
Jack: Why're you here mate? It's the middle of the night and I got materializing rum and no Miss Swann. You're not helping my mood.
Bootstrap: The Squid-man sent me.
Jack: Davy Jones?
Bootstrap: Aye.
Jack: He shanghaied you into service then? Hard life man, I feel for you, I really do.
Bootstrap: No, I asked for it. I got pretty bored on the bottom of the sea. I couldn't die and I couldn't figure out that I could've just pulled myself apart in the moonlight and walked out of there.
Jack: So you've never heard of fanfiction then? Pity that.
Bootstrap: Don't change the subject, you made an oath too. He raised the Pearl from the depths for you and you've been captain for thirteen years.
Jack: Now wait—
Bootstrap: Your clever words can't save you this time Jack. You know the terms, one soul bound to serve a hundred years on the Flying Dutchman.
Jack: But the Flying Dutchman already has a captain so there's no point in—
Bootstrap: Then it's the Locker for you. His leviathan will find you and drag the Pearl to the depths and you along with it.
Jack: Any idea when Jones will unleash said terrible beastie?
Bootstrap: I already told you Jack. Time's up.
He slaps Jack's hand.
Bootstrap: It comes now drawn with ravenous hunger to the man who bears the Black Spot.
Jack looks at his hand. A Black Spot is spreading out from the place that Bootstrap touched. He looks up and Bootstrap has gone. Then he looks at the rum bottle in his other hand.
Jack: What the hell is this stuff?
Then it hits him.
Jack (panicking): On deck all hands. Scurry! Up! I want movement! Hold out your pocket handkerchiefs if you have to!
He grabs some cloth of a pirate and wraps his hand in it.
Gibbs: Do we have a heading Captain?
Jack: Run! Land!
Gibbs turns around and Jack is gone. Not gone but hiding behind a mast.
Gibbs: Which port did you want?
Jack: Didn't say port, said land. Get me to land.
The spaz monkey jumps out of the rigging and screeches at him, he hisses back so the monkey grabs his hat and throws it in the water.
Gibbs: Get Jack's hat!
Jack: No no, leave it!
The Crew: OH. MY. GOD. Did he just say leave it?
Jack: Run!
Gibbs: Back to your stations!
He looks for Jack, who is hiding under the stairs.
Gibbs: For the love of mother and child Jack, what's chasing us?
Jack: Nothing. Run, land.
Somewhere out at sea some poor unsuspecting fishermen fish Jack's hat out of the water. As they are fighting over it the water rumbles and the boat it Kraken chow.
Fish: Ouch.
Kraken: Oh look desert.
The fish is Kraken chow.
Another Fish: Not even gonna go there.
