Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters,
so please don't sue me.
**************************************************************************** **************** It was about then that reality caught up with me. I was on a beach, alone,
with a shirtless and not-dead Jack Sparrow. I felt giddy for a moment, then my
cynical (realistic) side began getting suspicious. What if he was just some weird
sicko who dressed up like popular movie characters to prey on young girls?
Then I took a second look at his clothing. It was definitely nothing like any
clothing you could buy today; even the cloth looked hand-woven. And there was
no arguing with the fact that he had both the face and the mannerisms of Jack
Sparrow. Suddenly, I decided that he definitely was Jack Sparrow, and no one
could have convinced me otherwise.
On Jack's insistence I helped him get to his feet, though I had the feeling
that he didn't really need my help. He put his arm around my waist and together
we walked slowly back to the cabin.
"So you live here, eh?" asked Jack as we were walking.
"No, I'm just here for vacation. My parents are here too, but at the
moment they're on the mainland. Speaking of which," I said, glancing at him,
"um, they, uh, don't like pirates." In reality, I knew my parents wouldn't believe
he was the real Captain Jack Sparrow, and even if they did they wouldn't be
happy keeping him in the house. Jack looked affronted and spread his arms
wide.
"What's not to like? I'm rich, I'm handsome, and I'm Captain Jack
Sparrow!"
"And you're positively the most modest pirate in the Spanish Main," I
added wryly. He nodded.
"That too. Wait," he said, turning to me, "If you're not a native, why
aren't you wearing any clothes? Not that I'm objecting," he added, staring at me
most improperly, "but, well, I'm just curious."
"This is more than a lot of people wear," I protested, blushing slightly.
Jack's eyebrows shot up.
"Really?" I nodded, and he smiled in bliss, but didn't say anything more
until we reached the cabin. He opened the door and we went inside. I offered
him a seat at the table, but he insisted that he needed to lie down, and draped
himself across the futon.
"Well, as I was saying," I said to Jack as I searched through the cupboards
for something for him to eat, "my parents aren't fond of pirates, so when they get
back it would probably be best if we hid you somewhere out of sight." I found
some peanut butter and jelly and started making Jack a sandwich. "There's a
massive walk-in closet in my room, but I'll have to straighten it up a bit first.
Here," I said, handing him the sandwich and a can of Coke. He sniffed at the
food, then looked at me dubiously.
"What be this?" he asked.
"Peanut butter and jelly. It's good, try it." He took a tiny bite, then his eyes
widened in surprise and he started demolishing the sandwich.
"This is the best food I've had since I commandeered the King's provision
ship. You'd be a great ship's cook. Job's open, if you're interested." I grinned,
watching him examine the Coke. He banged it on the table a couple times, then
ran his fingers over the entire can. Suddenly, a knife appeared in his hand and he
thrust it into the bottom of the can. It exploded, foam spraying everywhere, and
Jack was drenched as he leapt up, yelling and flailing his arms. Not wanting to
laugh in his face again, I quickly opened the fridge and stuck my head in under
the pretext of getting another Coke, though in reality I was just trying to mask
my tortuously silent laughter. As I turned around holding a new Coke, a shaken,
dripping Jack looked at the can with horror.
"Another one? What the hell are those things?"
"They're soda pops," I told him, opening the can with a snap. Jack
jumped.
"Pop is right," he muttered. I handed him the Coke, which he took
gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. Just as he took a sip, with a look of
someone afraid he was ingesting poison, the phone rang. Jack spewed half the
soda across the room, and the other half went up his nose. Dodging Jack, who
was holding his nose and screaming obscenities, I grabbed the phone off the
hook.
"Hello?" I said, praying to God it wasn't my parents.
"Hi sweetie," said my mum. I tried frantically and silently to shut Jack up,
but to no avail. Mother continued, speaking louder over Jack's tirade. "It looks
like your dad and I'll be stuck here for a while. The boat motor cut out halfway
to the mainland and we had to be towed to a repair shop. We probably won't be
able to get back to you for three days or so. Do you think you have enough food
and water?"
"Yeah, I've got loads," I replied, feeling a great bubble of happiness well
up inside me.
"Okay then, take care of yourself, and be careful. I heard on the news that
there could be a storm coming through. And what is that noise?"
"It's just the TV," I said quickly.
"Well, turn it down or you'll impair your hearing. Love you!"
"Love you too, Mum," I said and hung up. I turned around and saw Jack
sitting on the futon, scowling.
"I'm sticking to rum," he said sulkily.
"Fine," I sighed, feeling that it would be pointless to argue. "By the way,
that was my mum. They won't be back for about three days, so we don't have to
worry about the whole hiding thing for a while." Jack looked very confused, his
eyes moving from me to the phone and back again.
"I think I'm missing something here, love."
**************************************************************************** **************** It was about then that reality caught up with me. I was on a beach, alone,
with a shirtless and not-dead Jack Sparrow. I felt giddy for a moment, then my
cynical (realistic) side began getting suspicious. What if he was just some weird
sicko who dressed up like popular movie characters to prey on young girls?
Then I took a second look at his clothing. It was definitely nothing like any
clothing you could buy today; even the cloth looked hand-woven. And there was
no arguing with the fact that he had both the face and the mannerisms of Jack
Sparrow. Suddenly, I decided that he definitely was Jack Sparrow, and no one
could have convinced me otherwise.
On Jack's insistence I helped him get to his feet, though I had the feeling
that he didn't really need my help. He put his arm around my waist and together
we walked slowly back to the cabin.
"So you live here, eh?" asked Jack as we were walking.
"No, I'm just here for vacation. My parents are here too, but at the
moment they're on the mainland. Speaking of which," I said, glancing at him,
"um, they, uh, don't like pirates." In reality, I knew my parents wouldn't believe
he was the real Captain Jack Sparrow, and even if they did they wouldn't be
happy keeping him in the house. Jack looked affronted and spread his arms
wide.
"What's not to like? I'm rich, I'm handsome, and I'm Captain Jack
Sparrow!"
"And you're positively the most modest pirate in the Spanish Main," I
added wryly. He nodded.
"That too. Wait," he said, turning to me, "If you're not a native, why
aren't you wearing any clothes? Not that I'm objecting," he added, staring at me
most improperly, "but, well, I'm just curious."
"This is more than a lot of people wear," I protested, blushing slightly.
Jack's eyebrows shot up.
"Really?" I nodded, and he smiled in bliss, but didn't say anything more
until we reached the cabin. He opened the door and we went inside. I offered
him a seat at the table, but he insisted that he needed to lie down, and draped
himself across the futon.
"Well, as I was saying," I said to Jack as I searched through the cupboards
for something for him to eat, "my parents aren't fond of pirates, so when they get
back it would probably be best if we hid you somewhere out of sight." I found
some peanut butter and jelly and started making Jack a sandwich. "There's a
massive walk-in closet in my room, but I'll have to straighten it up a bit first.
Here," I said, handing him the sandwich and a can of Coke. He sniffed at the
food, then looked at me dubiously.
"What be this?" he asked.
"Peanut butter and jelly. It's good, try it." He took a tiny bite, then his eyes
widened in surprise and he started demolishing the sandwich.
"This is the best food I've had since I commandeered the King's provision
ship. You'd be a great ship's cook. Job's open, if you're interested." I grinned,
watching him examine the Coke. He banged it on the table a couple times, then
ran his fingers over the entire can. Suddenly, a knife appeared in his hand and he
thrust it into the bottom of the can. It exploded, foam spraying everywhere, and
Jack was drenched as he leapt up, yelling and flailing his arms. Not wanting to
laugh in his face again, I quickly opened the fridge and stuck my head in under
the pretext of getting another Coke, though in reality I was just trying to mask
my tortuously silent laughter. As I turned around holding a new Coke, a shaken,
dripping Jack looked at the can with horror.
"Another one? What the hell are those things?"
"They're soda pops," I told him, opening the can with a snap. Jack
jumped.
"Pop is right," he muttered. I handed him the Coke, which he took
gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. Just as he took a sip, with a look of
someone afraid he was ingesting poison, the phone rang. Jack spewed half the
soda across the room, and the other half went up his nose. Dodging Jack, who
was holding his nose and screaming obscenities, I grabbed the phone off the
hook.
"Hello?" I said, praying to God it wasn't my parents.
"Hi sweetie," said my mum. I tried frantically and silently to shut Jack up,
but to no avail. Mother continued, speaking louder over Jack's tirade. "It looks
like your dad and I'll be stuck here for a while. The boat motor cut out halfway
to the mainland and we had to be towed to a repair shop. We probably won't be
able to get back to you for three days or so. Do you think you have enough food
and water?"
"Yeah, I've got loads," I replied, feeling a great bubble of happiness well
up inside me.
"Okay then, take care of yourself, and be careful. I heard on the news that
there could be a storm coming through. And what is that noise?"
"It's just the TV," I said quickly.
"Well, turn it down or you'll impair your hearing. Love you!"
"Love you too, Mum," I said and hung up. I turned around and saw Jack
sitting on the futon, scowling.
"I'm sticking to rum," he said sulkily.
"Fine," I sighed, feeling that it would be pointless to argue. "By the way,
that was my mum. They won't be back for about three days, so we don't have to
worry about the whole hiding thing for a while." Jack looked very confused, his
eyes moving from me to the phone and back again.
"I think I'm missing something here, love."