(Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews, thank you very much! And, to my
one flame, or close to it-I acknowledge that I am a bit too political in
fanfiction, but, as I was writing part of it at the same time as a
political rant, it was a bit-inavoidable.or is it unavoidable? *sighs*
Anyway, I'll cut some of it out, except where it's relevant to the plot,
such as this entire chapte, although it's more left-wing in this one. And
I'm glad somebody caught the Curious George. There's hope for this world
yet.)
August 2003. Lott, Hillaria. The Public Square.
"The Socialist State of Hillaria condemns thee, Jack Sparrow, to be hanged by the neck until dead on charges of saving Elizabeth Swann's life after saving Shawna Black's life. Do you have any last words?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Firstly, I am CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow. ((a/n: Couldn't resist)) Secondly, I didn't have a fair trial with a jury of my peers. Thirdly, this is a Mary Sue fic, so I had no option but to save Mary Sue first. Finally, I'm the good guy, so you shouldn't be hanging me so much to the point of being a little bit sick, let alone dead."
"Those are very awe-inspiring words," said the hangman sarcastically as he tightened the noose around Jack's neck. "Anything else?"
"This is supposedly a politically correct fan fiction. That means there CANNOT be capital punishment or anything like that!" replied Jack fretfully.
"You misread the author's note. She said that this taunted politically correct institutions, and was not politically correct in itself."
"She said it was politically correct, and by being politically correct, it taunted political correctness. She said that she wasn't anatomically correct. It's not the same thing, you know."
"Who gives a damn about the author, anyway?" growled the hangman. "It's not like she controls the story!"
"That is true," the author said plaintively. "I have no control over whether or not you hang Jack. In fact, I say hang him-he is an evil criminal, anyway, for even letting a Mary Sue live."
"HEY! I thought I was the good guy. You know, Robin Hood was an outlaw, too. But he was still the good guy."
"Robin Hood was a socialistic bastard, even though his views were the best way to go at the time," retorted the author. "Which reminds me of something else I need to parody . . ."
The hangman gawked as the author whipped out a keyboard and began to type furiously.
"'Ere, wot the 'ell are you doing?" he said in protest. It was at this moment in time that one William Tell raised a longbow and shot the part of the rope that was just above Jack's head, cutting it cleanly in two.
"Now," the author said, "I have decided that Jack will escape, not only by having his death rope cut in two, but by throwing three allusions together, so as to confuse you, the hangman."
"Huh?" said the audience.
"One: Robin Hood, Men in Tights. Two: William Tell. Three: William Turner. The complexity of that will confuse the hangman, allowing Jack to escape."
"Huh?" repeated the audience.
Suddenly, the author's keyboard was taken away from her, as she had done way too much damage already, and she was shoved into a straight jacket and locked up in the Chateau d'If.
A new noose was secured around Jack's neck, and the hangman reached for the switch, and pulled it. Jack fell through the trapdoor.
While this was happening, William Turner was just beginning to revive from having a polite pirate hurl a large blunt object at his head.
"Where am I?" he wondered aloud, propping himself up on one elbow. "It looks like I'm under a platform of sorts, surrounded by a lot of people. Hmmm." After these splendid observations, he decided to get up. Just as he was starting this action, a large wooden trapdoor opened directly above him, and as he completed the action, two (2) boots landed on his shoulders. "OUCH!" Will screamed, but he didn't fall back down. "I have two (2) boots on my shoulders!"
"That you do, love," said the voice whose owner owned the boots. "And thank you for saving me from hanging. That is, as long as you don't move."
What happened was that somebody or something, most likely aliens, had moved Jack from the town to under the scaffold during his state of unconsciousness. And he had stood up just as Jack had come crashing down through the trapdoor, and he was now standing on tiptoe-on Will's shoulders. Unfortunately for Jack, the blacksmith was rather short, and he was still entangled in a very tight noose.
"Why are they hanging you?" Will asked Jack.
"I rescued Mary Sue first, as opposed to Elizabeth Swann."
"Elizabeth is my girlfriend, sort of. I think she likes me. But so does Senator Norrington. Likes Elizabeth, I mean. Not me."
"You know, adolescent love problems are just precisely what I want my last thoughts to be on. That, and contemplation about how horrible strangling slowly to death is. If you could grow three inches within the next five seconds, I could have more support than just my tip-toes on your shoulders."
"You're very ponderous."
"Are you calling me fat?" Jack demanded.
"Yes."
"Well, I'm not. If I were really fat, I'd be dead by now, and you'd be hamburger underneath me. What were you doing sleeping under a gallows, anyway?"
"Let's just say that I didn't have a choice in the matter. Really, do you think you might have gone on a diet before this?"
"It's just all my muscle that's slowly grinding your shoulders into dust, okay?"
"Shut up, please. Do you have any ideas for saving my shoulders?" Will demanded, annoyed and hurting.
"Well, I have an idea for saving my life and your shoulders, yes. But your head might not like it," Jack said. With that, he pushed off of Will's shoulders, threw his feet onto Will's head, and jumped as best he could back onto the platform (Will sank into unconsciousness). "Kids, do not try this at home. In real life, I would have been unable to jump back onto the platform, and I would be dead by now. So just ignore the scientific impossibility, please."
"You're not saved yet!" declared Senator Norrington, eyeing the still- living Jack beadily. "But, since hanging does not seem to work with you, I will tell the Hillarian National Guard to shoot you instead."
"I'm very pleased with your decision," said Jack sarcastically. The hangman removed the noose, shoved Jack back down the steps, and hauled him off to be shot.
Ten members of the Hillarian National Guard raised their rifles at the blindfolded and bound pirate that stood before them. "Ready-aim-"
During this ruckus, the author, still stuck in a straight jacket, ran to the nearest keyboard and began banging it with the side of her head, hoping that the right letters would come out in the right order.
Before the lieutenant or whoever could shout "fire", twenty members from Amnesty International ran in between the guns and Jack. Another five people grabbed Jack and dragged him off. The initial twenty charged the guns, nine people were fatally shot. The man with the blank in his rifle pulled the trigger, but, as it was just a blank, it only succeeded in giving his target a very black face (and temper).
To make a long story short, the people who were supposed to execute Jack were executed themselves, and in a far more grisly fashion. Amnesty International freed him, and gave him a very fast ship, with the unconscious William as first mate and entire crew. They managed to put several miles between them and Hillaria.
That was before, of course, the author was pulled away from the keyboard and locked in a small cell.
After this unfortunate occurrence, Senator Norrington sent the Navy Joint Chief of Staff Leahy with several battleships after Jack and Will. But all was well in this respect. After all, Leahy was a Democrat from an inland state being controlled by Democrats, and the military never does work well when it is run by or controlled by Democrats. It was thus that the small fleet that set out from Lott ended up in Las Vegas.
August 2003. Lott, Hillaria. The Public Square.
"The Socialist State of Hillaria condemns thee, Jack Sparrow, to be hanged by the neck until dead on charges of saving Elizabeth Swann's life after saving Shawna Black's life. Do you have any last words?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Firstly, I am CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow. ((a/n: Couldn't resist)) Secondly, I didn't have a fair trial with a jury of my peers. Thirdly, this is a Mary Sue fic, so I had no option but to save Mary Sue first. Finally, I'm the good guy, so you shouldn't be hanging me so much to the point of being a little bit sick, let alone dead."
"Those are very awe-inspiring words," said the hangman sarcastically as he tightened the noose around Jack's neck. "Anything else?"
"This is supposedly a politically correct fan fiction. That means there CANNOT be capital punishment or anything like that!" replied Jack fretfully.
"You misread the author's note. She said that this taunted politically correct institutions, and was not politically correct in itself."
"She said it was politically correct, and by being politically correct, it taunted political correctness. She said that she wasn't anatomically correct. It's not the same thing, you know."
"Who gives a damn about the author, anyway?" growled the hangman. "It's not like she controls the story!"
"That is true," the author said plaintively. "I have no control over whether or not you hang Jack. In fact, I say hang him-he is an evil criminal, anyway, for even letting a Mary Sue live."
"HEY! I thought I was the good guy. You know, Robin Hood was an outlaw, too. But he was still the good guy."
"Robin Hood was a socialistic bastard, even though his views were the best way to go at the time," retorted the author. "Which reminds me of something else I need to parody . . ."
The hangman gawked as the author whipped out a keyboard and began to type furiously.
"'Ere, wot the 'ell are you doing?" he said in protest. It was at this moment in time that one William Tell raised a longbow and shot the part of the rope that was just above Jack's head, cutting it cleanly in two.
"Now," the author said, "I have decided that Jack will escape, not only by having his death rope cut in two, but by throwing three allusions together, so as to confuse you, the hangman."
"Huh?" said the audience.
"One: Robin Hood, Men in Tights. Two: William Tell. Three: William Turner. The complexity of that will confuse the hangman, allowing Jack to escape."
"Huh?" repeated the audience.
Suddenly, the author's keyboard was taken away from her, as she had done way too much damage already, and she was shoved into a straight jacket and locked up in the Chateau d'If.
A new noose was secured around Jack's neck, and the hangman reached for the switch, and pulled it. Jack fell through the trapdoor.
While this was happening, William Turner was just beginning to revive from having a polite pirate hurl a large blunt object at his head.
"Where am I?" he wondered aloud, propping himself up on one elbow. "It looks like I'm under a platform of sorts, surrounded by a lot of people. Hmmm." After these splendid observations, he decided to get up. Just as he was starting this action, a large wooden trapdoor opened directly above him, and as he completed the action, two (2) boots landed on his shoulders. "OUCH!" Will screamed, but he didn't fall back down. "I have two (2) boots on my shoulders!"
"That you do, love," said the voice whose owner owned the boots. "And thank you for saving me from hanging. That is, as long as you don't move."
What happened was that somebody or something, most likely aliens, had moved Jack from the town to under the scaffold during his state of unconsciousness. And he had stood up just as Jack had come crashing down through the trapdoor, and he was now standing on tiptoe-on Will's shoulders. Unfortunately for Jack, the blacksmith was rather short, and he was still entangled in a very tight noose.
"Why are they hanging you?" Will asked Jack.
"I rescued Mary Sue first, as opposed to Elizabeth Swann."
"Elizabeth is my girlfriend, sort of. I think she likes me. But so does Senator Norrington. Likes Elizabeth, I mean. Not me."
"You know, adolescent love problems are just precisely what I want my last thoughts to be on. That, and contemplation about how horrible strangling slowly to death is. If you could grow three inches within the next five seconds, I could have more support than just my tip-toes on your shoulders."
"You're very ponderous."
"Are you calling me fat?" Jack demanded.
"Yes."
"Well, I'm not. If I were really fat, I'd be dead by now, and you'd be hamburger underneath me. What were you doing sleeping under a gallows, anyway?"
"Let's just say that I didn't have a choice in the matter. Really, do you think you might have gone on a diet before this?"
"It's just all my muscle that's slowly grinding your shoulders into dust, okay?"
"Shut up, please. Do you have any ideas for saving my shoulders?" Will demanded, annoyed and hurting.
"Well, I have an idea for saving my life and your shoulders, yes. But your head might not like it," Jack said. With that, he pushed off of Will's shoulders, threw his feet onto Will's head, and jumped as best he could back onto the platform (Will sank into unconsciousness). "Kids, do not try this at home. In real life, I would have been unable to jump back onto the platform, and I would be dead by now. So just ignore the scientific impossibility, please."
"You're not saved yet!" declared Senator Norrington, eyeing the still- living Jack beadily. "But, since hanging does not seem to work with you, I will tell the Hillarian National Guard to shoot you instead."
"I'm very pleased with your decision," said Jack sarcastically. The hangman removed the noose, shoved Jack back down the steps, and hauled him off to be shot.
Ten members of the Hillarian National Guard raised their rifles at the blindfolded and bound pirate that stood before them. "Ready-aim-"
During this ruckus, the author, still stuck in a straight jacket, ran to the nearest keyboard and began banging it with the side of her head, hoping that the right letters would come out in the right order.
Before the lieutenant or whoever could shout "fire", twenty members from Amnesty International ran in between the guns and Jack. Another five people grabbed Jack and dragged him off. The initial twenty charged the guns, nine people were fatally shot. The man with the blank in his rifle pulled the trigger, but, as it was just a blank, it only succeeded in giving his target a very black face (and temper).
To make a long story short, the people who were supposed to execute Jack were executed themselves, and in a far more grisly fashion. Amnesty International freed him, and gave him a very fast ship, with the unconscious William as first mate and entire crew. They managed to put several miles between them and Hillaria.
That was before, of course, the author was pulled away from the keyboard and locked in a small cell.
After this unfortunate occurrence, Senator Norrington sent the Navy Joint Chief of Staff Leahy with several battleships after Jack and Will. But all was well in this respect. After all, Leahy was a Democrat from an inland state being controlled by Democrats, and the military never does work well when it is run by or controlled by Democrats. It was thus that the small fleet that set out from Lott ended up in Las Vegas.