Parody of the Caribbean: Curse of the Bungled Prose
Blame the Rum for the Tribal War Paint
Jack stands wearily next to Gibbs on the docks the next day. They've already gone through two complete crews. Both crews turned out to be the surly wenches in disguise. Jack's cheeks both have perfect red handprints on them; they could probably pass for tribal war paint if you didn't look too close.
Jack: Okay, now you're sure there are no females bent on destroying my cheekbones in this batch? Because I'm starting to think that last night when I told you to distract them you got the wrong idea.
Gibbs: Well, you never can be too sure can you? Just to be safe, I blame the rum.
Jack: Yes, it's always the rum, isn't it?
Gibbs: Aye, but back to business. Feast your eyes captain. All of them faithful hands before the mast, everyman worth his salt. And crazy to boot.
Jack and Gibbs, followed by Will, walk down the line of sailors. Jack would probably have better luck with the surly wenches. He stops at an old man with a parrot.
Jack: And what's your story?
The old man looks at Gibbs.
Gibbs: Mr. Cotton sir. Poor devil had his tongue cut out. Trained the parrot to talk for 'im though, not sure how.
To emphasize Cotton opens his mouth and makes show of his less then present tongue.
Jack: Oh God.
Gibbs: Aye, nasty business.
Jack: Okay. Mr. Cotton's Parrot, you got what it takes to be a sailor? The courage and fortitude to brave danger and almost certain death?
Parrot: Awk! Aye aye, Captain!
Jack: What about you Mr. Cotton?
Mr. Cotton nods.
Jack: Wonderful. Satisfied Will?
Will: They are as daft as you, I'll give them that.
Unseen Sailor Down the Line: What's in it for us?
Jack: I'm the captain here and I'll be taking no back talk from anyone, got that?
But out of curiosity he turns around and sees who it is.
Jack: Shit.
The sailor whips off her hat, yep it's a her, and slaps Jack.
Jack: AnaMaria, what a pleasant surprise.
AnaMaria: You stole my boat.
Jack: Well, you could say that.
AnaMaria slaps him again.
Jack: Now, that really isn't necessary.
She slaps him again.
Will: Did you deserve any of those?
Jack opens his mouth to deny it but with a look and a raise of the hand from AnaMaria he changes his mind.
Jack: I deserved them. But I didn't steal your boat. Now wait. I borrowed it without permission but with every intention of bringing it back.
AnaMaria: But since you didn't it's stealing!
Jack (quickly): You'll get another one!
AnaMaria: Another one?
Jack: A better one.
Will: That one.
Jack: What one?
Will is pointing at the Interceptor.
Jack: That one!
Will nods.
Jack (cheerfully): Aye, that one. What say you?
AnaMaria considers. After all, it's such a pretty boat...ship.
AnaMaria: Aye.
The Rest of the Crew: Aye.
Cotton's Parrot: Anchor's away!
The pick up stuff and prepare to load the ship and get underway.
Gibbs: No, no, no, no, no. It's frightful bad luck to have a woman on board sir.
Jack: Gibbs, I don't think my luck can get much worse. Except if we don't bring her I'm sure she'll do much worse than slap me next time.
He turns and follows the rest of the crew with Will behind him. Gibbs looks at the sky hoping that AnaMaria won't cause a storm by coming.
Too bad, she did.
The Interceptor crashes up and down in the stormy waters. The crew is being thrown about trying to secure the ship. Jack is steering with a wild look in his eye. Will is a bit fed up with the absurdity of the whole thing.
Will: How the hell is this going to save Elizabeth! His compass doesn't work.
Gibbs: The compass doesn't point north but we're not going north are we?
He leaves Will to think on that and stumbles through the storm to where Jack stands steering through the storm.
Gibbs: We should drop canvas sir!
Jack: She can hold a bit longer.
Gibbs: No, I'm pretty sure she can't. Why are you so happy, we could all die!
Jack: We're catching up.
Gibbs (to himself): Blame the rum.