A/N
Thank you, new reviewer from Australia, 'f h c'. And I'm happy to call you Cassie. (smiles).
Re: Very valid and astute literary advice from TheSiriusSparrow and Insane Elven Pirate (IEP e-mailed me). Man, you are *so* right about the dialogue- versus-script style blunder. I thought remotely about it while I was writing, but told myself, 'nah, no one will notice', and then – bam - first round out, two of my most esteemed FanFic Colleagues *nail* me on my own, unforgivable laziness.
The blunder is compounded by the fact that I have (in an unsolicited, self appointed way) been riding poor sparrowsgirl-13's arse about dotting every 'i' and crossing every 't' like I'm her English teacher, and I still invoke the right to be lazy.
So, Karma has spoken. And the story will be re-wroten
(couldn't resist that). All Chapters will be revised at the submission of this chapter.
Oh, but I am gleeful to note that I was actually able to fill-in a major plothole before anyone else had the courage to nail me on it. I originally wrote the Will character at the age of 18, making him un-hirable by a liquor store. Oops. For those who caught it and kept their mouths shut – you are excused from your next literary blunder. Karma has spoken.
Achem
***************************
Chapter Three
The Ouija Board Says . . .
***************************
The odd looking stranger left, carrying a brown paper wrapped bottle of Bacardi Gold. As he exited, Will heard the familiar jingle of the bells on the door. But it was the stranger's cocky smile, which he flashed as he exited, that shook Will's customary stoic temperament.
For the rest of the afternoon, Will was tense and preoccupied. There was something about the stranger that really got under his skin. Will was annoyed, frustrated, and intrigued all in the same breath. It was a long, slow workday at The Hole.
At 4:00pm, Will's replacement, Linda, arrived an hour early for her shift, allowing Will the opportunity to leave. Linda was a forgiving, kind- hearted post-grad, a plump brunette with round cheeks and ample hips. She was the kind of woman who would potentially be gentle with a man who had just hit her car while he was running a red light. She had a capacity for patience of which no one had yet fully tested the limits, and a smile warmer than a puppy's brown eyes.
Will was gracious when she offered him the opportunity to leave early. He rode the bus home, fidgeting and stewing all the way. The bus stopped three blocks from home. Will shuffled along the old sidewalks and under the trees until he reached the duplex.
The duplex, nestled in a neighborhood of near-identical homes, was built in the mid-seventies. It was not the most attractive piece of property, but it was a good solid building that withstood weather and time. In general, the neighborhood was well maintained. The exterior of Will, Todd & Christopher's rental was brown and in desperate need of a fresh coat, but the interior had new carpet and freshly painted walls. With the exception of the ghastly paneling in the dining room, it was a rather attractive unit.
When Will entered, Christopher was folding laundry on the living room couch. Christopher was a boisterous, talkative charmer. He had reddish, sandy-colored hair that covered his head in untamed curls. Todd was very tall, extremely intelligent, and not at all as hyper as Christopher. Todd chose his words carefully and thoughtfully. They were a delightful pair, and very pleasant, cooperative and enjoyable roommates.
Will threw his coat and his book bag on the floor and started up the stairs.
"I'm not your mother, William," Christopher taunted pointing to the coat on the floor. Will shot Christopher a cross look. "Oh my gawd!" Christopher exclaimed. "Who is she? Come, come, come," he gestured, making a spot for Will and patting the couch enthusiastically. "Tell me all about it."
Will grimaced. "What are you talking about? I've had a shitty day."
Christopher folded his arms over his chest, "Hunny, something happened today that turned you from Aristotle into a human being, and I'd like to know what it was."
Todd entered the room as Christopher was talking. Todd looked back and forth between Will and Christopher, until a sly grin formed upon his face. "Indeed. Something is definitely in the air."
While the three men threw together some snacks and convened at the kitchen table, Will discussed the day's events. He described the eerie interaction with the flipped out stranger who apparently drank imported rum. Opening his heart a little, Will also brought to light his frustrations with working so many hours, his inability to keep up his studies, and his ambiguity about the future.
"Hmmm," Todd pondered after some time. "I think this stranger, wild and untamed, represents a part of you that now feels stifled and boxed in." Will took this in for a moment, and then Todd continued. "When you first arrived in town this summer, you were filled with excitement and dreams –"
Christopher cut him off, "Yeah, and now you are a real bummer and a bear to live with. Talk about false advertising." Christopher's eyes danced playfully.
Todd gave Christopher 'a look' and continued. "As I was saying, you were filled with passion, but the drudgery of the day-to-day has dampened that passion. This stranger, free to be as cockeyed as he pleases, frustrates you because you no longer feel free."
There was a long silence, and Will nodded, contemplated the possibility. All of a sudden, Will got weird and defensive, "I'm not gay, you guys know that."
Todd and Christopher exchanged a 'no duh, so what' look.
Christopher, "For gawd sakes, sweety, you've only told us a hundred times. You don't have to be gay for this guy to have some sort of message for your life." His eyes lit up, "Like a swami. . . Ooo, boys, it's ouija board time."
Will rolled his eyes, "This guy is *no* swami, and you know I hate the ouija board."
"Lighten up," Todd encouraged. And then he hollered after Christopher, "And bring the Jack Daniels."
Will got up and brought three glasses to the table.
When Christopher returned with the ouija board and the Jack Daniels, he looked at Todd in disbelief. Todd and Christopher looked at the three drinking glasses on the kitchen table and then up to Will.
"What?" Will snarled.
Christopher fanned himself as if he were about to faint. "Oh my gawd. YOU're having a drink? Now this **is** serious." Patting the ouija board, he whispered, "You're going to have your work cut out for you tonight, darling."
The boys entertained themselves with the ouija board and the Jack Daniels until almost two am.
The ouija board gave many useful pieces of information.
"What is the stranger's name?"
"Gertrude."
"Where did he come from?"
"Mhxplge"
"What is Will supposed to do with his life?"
"Gw9 Qac"
The three laughed hysterically for hours. With three pairs of hands battling for control over the triangular fortune-telling planchette, the game got sillier and sillier as the evening progressed.
Finally, Todd slammed his hand on the table. "Will, you'd better take the notes." He slurred a little, "It-tis not prahhhPER for you to influence yur own deh. . .stiny," he gestured dramatically in the air. Then, the three of them screeched with laughter.
"Ok, Ok," Christopher continued, trying to catch his breath. "My darlin' Wee-ja, what will our adorable little Will *dooo* with this delightful stranger?" Will gave Christopher a cross look, and Christopher shrugged, "I'm just asking, hun'."
Will sighed and held out the tablet and pen, doing a very weak imitation of Sherlock Holmes. "S," Will wrote, and then stuck the pen behind his ears and turned the tablet upside down. "A," he wrote. "Hey, we actually got a vowel in this one!" "I," was next. "Woah! Two vowels. Keep rollin' boys." "L". Will started to laugh, and then almost dropped the tablet. "SAIL." A silence fell over the room; a silence made all the more dramatic by the copious amount of Jack Daniels which had been consumed.
"Woah," Christopher whispered, half mockingly.
Todd smiled, staggered to his feet. "I think it's time we give the ouija board a rest and get some sleep ourselves."
Up in his room, Will could not sleep. His thoughts were filled with childhood images of Captain Ahab, Robinson Caruso, and Jim Hawkins. Finally, he got out of bed and dug through his closet. There were several boxes he had not yet unpacked. One contained two framed oil paintings his mother had painted. The paintings had hung on Will's bedroom walls, at home and at Auntie Ethel's, since he was three.
He found the box and unwrapped the paintings. One was of a lighthouse on a rocky cliff. Will touched the paint, ever so gently. The other was a beautiful rendition of a mischievous, little sailboat on the wind whipped sea. Will stared at the painting for a long time, and a tear slid down his face. He lay on the bed, holding the painting, until he fell asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
In spite of the exciting evening and all of the ouija board's predictions, Will did not see the stranger for the rest of the week.
"I can't imagine a guy like that would last a whole week on a pint of rum. He must have found a better supplier in Belleview," he mused.
Will tried to keep his mind on his studies and off of sailboats. He had a huge essay due the following Monday, and Linda agreed to trade shifts with Will on Saturday. Will preferred to get up early, get his mind into a project and run through until it was completed. He worked all day Saturday, and he was pleased with himself when the essay was finished.
Will approached The Hole around quarter to five on Saturday afternoon. He heard a commotion inside. He rushed in. Linda was crying, sobbing actually. Will stood back for a moment. She was always jolly and playful; it was disturbing to see her cry so painfully. Then, Will glanced down the aisle and witnessed an amazing spectacle. The infamous stranger was standing with his boot on the stomach of what appeared to be one of those oh-too-handsome-and-cocky frat boys. However, at that particular moment, it was difficult to see the cocky side. The boy lay motionless, whimpering, and begging for his life, as he looked up the barrel of the stranger's black revolver. The stranger was speaking.
". . . and if the lady ever tells tale of ye setting foot in here again, I'm going to track down your entire 'house' of scum," he said, noting the Greek symbols on the young man's tee-shirt, "and burn ye-all like a pile of kindling. Savvy?"
More whimpering was heard. The frat boy had an odd and stupid expression on his face.
"I said SAVVY!!??"
"Sssss ah vee," he conceded, not knowing exactly what 'savvy' meant, but knowing that he had better get the hell away from The Hole and never come back.
The stranger un-cocked his gun and removed his boot from the boy's stomach. The boy got up, hesitated for a moment looking around, and then made a bolt for the door. Will and the stranger exchanged an intense, thoughtful stare. Then, Will turned his attention to the sobbing Linda. He tentatively started to give her a hug, and she laid her face on his shoulder and sobbed some more.
"Come on, Linda," he soothed. "Let's lock up, and I'll escort you home."
"But," Linda protested, "It's Saturday night. Mr. Brown will kill you!"
"To hell with Mr. Brown," Will hissed.
Will glanced up again at the stranger, who was re-concealing his gun and straightening his shirt. He appeared to be only slightly rattled by the event. The stranger met Will's gaze straight on, nodding in approval. "You're a gentlemen, Mr. –"
"Turner, Will Turner. . . And so be you, Mr. –"
"Sparrow. *Captain* Jack Sparrow."
With that, Jack swished out the door.
Linda's sobs subsided, as Will turned out the lights and locked the door behind them.
"Captain," Will muttered sarcastically to himself as he took in a deep sigh. "I should have never left England."
*********************
a/n – reviews?
Thank you, new reviewer from Australia, 'f h c'. And I'm happy to call you Cassie. (smiles).
Re: Very valid and astute literary advice from TheSiriusSparrow and Insane Elven Pirate (IEP e-mailed me). Man, you are *so* right about the dialogue- versus-script style blunder. I thought remotely about it while I was writing, but told myself, 'nah, no one will notice', and then – bam - first round out, two of my most esteemed FanFic Colleagues *nail* me on my own, unforgivable laziness.
The blunder is compounded by the fact that I have (in an unsolicited, self appointed way) been riding poor sparrowsgirl-13's arse about dotting every 'i' and crossing every 't' like I'm her English teacher, and I still invoke the right to be lazy.
So, Karma has spoken. And the story will be re-wroten
(couldn't resist that). All Chapters will be revised at the submission of this chapter.
Oh, but I am gleeful to note that I was actually able to fill-in a major plothole before anyone else had the courage to nail me on it. I originally wrote the Will character at the age of 18, making him un-hirable by a liquor store. Oops. For those who caught it and kept their mouths shut – you are excused from your next literary blunder. Karma has spoken.
Achem
***************************
Chapter Three
The Ouija Board Says . . .
***************************
The odd looking stranger left, carrying a brown paper wrapped bottle of Bacardi Gold. As he exited, Will heard the familiar jingle of the bells on the door. But it was the stranger's cocky smile, which he flashed as he exited, that shook Will's customary stoic temperament.
For the rest of the afternoon, Will was tense and preoccupied. There was something about the stranger that really got under his skin. Will was annoyed, frustrated, and intrigued all in the same breath. It was a long, slow workday at The Hole.
At 4:00pm, Will's replacement, Linda, arrived an hour early for her shift, allowing Will the opportunity to leave. Linda was a forgiving, kind- hearted post-grad, a plump brunette with round cheeks and ample hips. She was the kind of woman who would potentially be gentle with a man who had just hit her car while he was running a red light. She had a capacity for patience of which no one had yet fully tested the limits, and a smile warmer than a puppy's brown eyes.
Will was gracious when she offered him the opportunity to leave early. He rode the bus home, fidgeting and stewing all the way. The bus stopped three blocks from home. Will shuffled along the old sidewalks and under the trees until he reached the duplex.
The duplex, nestled in a neighborhood of near-identical homes, was built in the mid-seventies. It was not the most attractive piece of property, but it was a good solid building that withstood weather and time. In general, the neighborhood was well maintained. The exterior of Will, Todd & Christopher's rental was brown and in desperate need of a fresh coat, but the interior had new carpet and freshly painted walls. With the exception of the ghastly paneling in the dining room, it was a rather attractive unit.
When Will entered, Christopher was folding laundry on the living room couch. Christopher was a boisterous, talkative charmer. He had reddish, sandy-colored hair that covered his head in untamed curls. Todd was very tall, extremely intelligent, and not at all as hyper as Christopher. Todd chose his words carefully and thoughtfully. They were a delightful pair, and very pleasant, cooperative and enjoyable roommates.
Will threw his coat and his book bag on the floor and started up the stairs.
"I'm not your mother, William," Christopher taunted pointing to the coat on the floor. Will shot Christopher a cross look. "Oh my gawd!" Christopher exclaimed. "Who is she? Come, come, come," he gestured, making a spot for Will and patting the couch enthusiastically. "Tell me all about it."
Will grimaced. "What are you talking about? I've had a shitty day."
Christopher folded his arms over his chest, "Hunny, something happened today that turned you from Aristotle into a human being, and I'd like to know what it was."
Todd entered the room as Christopher was talking. Todd looked back and forth between Will and Christopher, until a sly grin formed upon his face. "Indeed. Something is definitely in the air."
While the three men threw together some snacks and convened at the kitchen table, Will discussed the day's events. He described the eerie interaction with the flipped out stranger who apparently drank imported rum. Opening his heart a little, Will also brought to light his frustrations with working so many hours, his inability to keep up his studies, and his ambiguity about the future.
"Hmmm," Todd pondered after some time. "I think this stranger, wild and untamed, represents a part of you that now feels stifled and boxed in." Will took this in for a moment, and then Todd continued. "When you first arrived in town this summer, you were filled with excitement and dreams –"
Christopher cut him off, "Yeah, and now you are a real bummer and a bear to live with. Talk about false advertising." Christopher's eyes danced playfully.
Todd gave Christopher 'a look' and continued. "As I was saying, you were filled with passion, but the drudgery of the day-to-day has dampened that passion. This stranger, free to be as cockeyed as he pleases, frustrates you because you no longer feel free."
There was a long silence, and Will nodded, contemplated the possibility. All of a sudden, Will got weird and defensive, "I'm not gay, you guys know that."
Todd and Christopher exchanged a 'no duh, so what' look.
Christopher, "For gawd sakes, sweety, you've only told us a hundred times. You don't have to be gay for this guy to have some sort of message for your life." His eyes lit up, "Like a swami. . . Ooo, boys, it's ouija board time."
Will rolled his eyes, "This guy is *no* swami, and you know I hate the ouija board."
"Lighten up," Todd encouraged. And then he hollered after Christopher, "And bring the Jack Daniels."
Will got up and brought three glasses to the table.
When Christopher returned with the ouija board and the Jack Daniels, he looked at Todd in disbelief. Todd and Christopher looked at the three drinking glasses on the kitchen table and then up to Will.
"What?" Will snarled.
Christopher fanned himself as if he were about to faint. "Oh my gawd. YOU're having a drink? Now this **is** serious." Patting the ouija board, he whispered, "You're going to have your work cut out for you tonight, darling."
The boys entertained themselves with the ouija board and the Jack Daniels until almost two am.
The ouija board gave many useful pieces of information.
"What is the stranger's name?"
"Gertrude."
"Where did he come from?"
"Mhxplge"
"What is Will supposed to do with his life?"
"Gw9 Qac"
The three laughed hysterically for hours. With three pairs of hands battling for control over the triangular fortune-telling planchette, the game got sillier and sillier as the evening progressed.
Finally, Todd slammed his hand on the table. "Will, you'd better take the notes." He slurred a little, "It-tis not prahhhPER for you to influence yur own deh. . .stiny," he gestured dramatically in the air. Then, the three of them screeched with laughter.
"Ok, Ok," Christopher continued, trying to catch his breath. "My darlin' Wee-ja, what will our adorable little Will *dooo* with this delightful stranger?" Will gave Christopher a cross look, and Christopher shrugged, "I'm just asking, hun'."
Will sighed and held out the tablet and pen, doing a very weak imitation of Sherlock Holmes. "S," Will wrote, and then stuck the pen behind his ears and turned the tablet upside down. "A," he wrote. "Hey, we actually got a vowel in this one!" "I," was next. "Woah! Two vowels. Keep rollin' boys." "L". Will started to laugh, and then almost dropped the tablet. "SAIL." A silence fell over the room; a silence made all the more dramatic by the copious amount of Jack Daniels which had been consumed.
"Woah," Christopher whispered, half mockingly.
Todd smiled, staggered to his feet. "I think it's time we give the ouija board a rest and get some sleep ourselves."
Up in his room, Will could not sleep. His thoughts were filled with childhood images of Captain Ahab, Robinson Caruso, and Jim Hawkins. Finally, he got out of bed and dug through his closet. There were several boxes he had not yet unpacked. One contained two framed oil paintings his mother had painted. The paintings had hung on Will's bedroom walls, at home and at Auntie Ethel's, since he was three.
He found the box and unwrapped the paintings. One was of a lighthouse on a rocky cliff. Will touched the paint, ever so gently. The other was a beautiful rendition of a mischievous, little sailboat on the wind whipped sea. Will stared at the painting for a long time, and a tear slid down his face. He lay on the bed, holding the painting, until he fell asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
In spite of the exciting evening and all of the ouija board's predictions, Will did not see the stranger for the rest of the week.
"I can't imagine a guy like that would last a whole week on a pint of rum. He must have found a better supplier in Belleview," he mused.
Will tried to keep his mind on his studies and off of sailboats. He had a huge essay due the following Monday, and Linda agreed to trade shifts with Will on Saturday. Will preferred to get up early, get his mind into a project and run through until it was completed. He worked all day Saturday, and he was pleased with himself when the essay was finished.
Will approached The Hole around quarter to five on Saturday afternoon. He heard a commotion inside. He rushed in. Linda was crying, sobbing actually. Will stood back for a moment. She was always jolly and playful; it was disturbing to see her cry so painfully. Then, Will glanced down the aisle and witnessed an amazing spectacle. The infamous stranger was standing with his boot on the stomach of what appeared to be one of those oh-too-handsome-and-cocky frat boys. However, at that particular moment, it was difficult to see the cocky side. The boy lay motionless, whimpering, and begging for his life, as he looked up the barrel of the stranger's black revolver. The stranger was speaking.
". . . and if the lady ever tells tale of ye setting foot in here again, I'm going to track down your entire 'house' of scum," he said, noting the Greek symbols on the young man's tee-shirt, "and burn ye-all like a pile of kindling. Savvy?"
More whimpering was heard. The frat boy had an odd and stupid expression on his face.
"I said SAVVY!!??"
"Sssss ah vee," he conceded, not knowing exactly what 'savvy' meant, but knowing that he had better get the hell away from The Hole and never come back.
The stranger un-cocked his gun and removed his boot from the boy's stomach. The boy got up, hesitated for a moment looking around, and then made a bolt for the door. Will and the stranger exchanged an intense, thoughtful stare. Then, Will turned his attention to the sobbing Linda. He tentatively started to give her a hug, and she laid her face on his shoulder and sobbed some more.
"Come on, Linda," he soothed. "Let's lock up, and I'll escort you home."
"But," Linda protested, "It's Saturday night. Mr. Brown will kill you!"
"To hell with Mr. Brown," Will hissed.
Will glanced up again at the stranger, who was re-concealing his gun and straightening his shirt. He appeared to be only slightly rattled by the event. The stranger met Will's gaze straight on, nodding in approval. "You're a gentlemen, Mr. –"
"Turner, Will Turner. . . And so be you, Mr. –"
"Sparrow. *Captain* Jack Sparrow."
With that, Jack swished out the door.
Linda's sobs subsided, as Will turned out the lights and locked the door behind them.
"Captain," Will muttered sarcastically to himself as he took in a deep sigh. "I should have never left England."
*********************
a/n – reviews?
