Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything that has to do with Pirates of the Caribbean. The evil mouse has it all. Stupid mouse (I didn't actually say that, by the way). Anyways, it's not my fault I'm obsessed about PotC. I just like to make up bad fan fictions. However, if you happen to read through this, just review it anyway, it will make my day. Plus, I will dedicate a chapter to you! YAY!
Claimer: Although the mouse owns everything PotC, I DO own this plot. So it is mine. If you (for some really completely stupid reason) want to make random references to it, just ask. I'll probably say yes anyways. BY THEY WAY, I love the one called Johnny Depp!
Note: Italics are Jack's thoughts, "Normal fonts in parenthesis are what Jack/other characters say out loud", and regular writing is my narration.
Well... here goes nothing... chapter three is officially..... OFFICIALLY up!
The whole "chasing of the bird" idea was starting to get old, not to mention Captain Jack Sparrow stopped feeling his right ankle a good three island-laps ago. So much for revenge... or food. The sun was getting low in the sky. Everything was silent except for the occasional ruffle of the strange bird's feathers from up in the sky. The bird... whatever kind it is... is just waiting for me to die so it can drop the dead crab dinner and get on with me flesh. It wasn't super positive thinking, but it cleared everything up for Jack. And he wasn't going to let go the fact that the bird had his dead, sand, crab. He wouldn't have done much better off without it; probably would 'o given me something sick anyways, but it was the birds intentions that made him angry. Not that birds actually have intentions... or brains for that matter, he added to himself.
Jack sat there, staring up at the fading sunset, and the stars appearing in the deep blue heavens. Nothing was really left to ponder, he thought, here on this island. Nothing really, except death. He didn't want to think about it, he would have rather passed out from pure exhaustion. He would have given up two more days of water. He even would have let that bird get away with the crab. But the thought approached him, and for the first time in his life, Captain Jack Sparrow was afraid, afraid that he was going to die. IN fact, it was probably the first time he had truly been scared of something since he was a child. He could barely even remember those days...
flashback
"John! JOHN! Will you pay attention? How can you not take an interest in Italian, The language of your four fathers? Have you learned nothing from your schoolmasters!?" John sat there at his large, polished oak table, not wanting to hear another minute of his father's long, boring lectures. He could bear one more of how he shall, one day, continue the family's name; carry on respectful traditions passed down for generations, ramble, ramble, ramble. Of course, his father had caught him once again with is leather bound sketch pad hidden beneath his Italian text, sketching and noting his "weird daydreams", as his father called them. Pictures of ships, explorers, lost treasures, and pirates always littered whatever papers he got a hold of. And this was the last straw with his father. "Are you even listening to me NOW, JOHN?!" "S' boring as hell", he mumbled behind his breath, actually regretting he had just said that. "WHAT DID YOU SAY YOUNG MAN?!?!" His father was furious, and there was no way he was going to get away with a swear word this time, not without twenty lashes first. "Where do you even learn these God-shunned curse words, John!? Have you been sneaking off to the docks AGAIN?! For how long will these boyish fantasies and obsessions last!? I question myself and wonder if young Mister Norrington acts this way towards his elders?!" That was the final straw with John. He hated being compared to that Norrington boy almost as much as he hated his father. Even more, he didn't want any of these privileges, these titles, or riches. He wanted nothing of his life. He wanted nothing of living his father's life for him. Abruptly, John stood up, kicked the large desk over; knocking various items and papers askew, and stormed out the door.
flash foreword to present time
What a bastard he was, my dad. Never did see him again after that moment, on that day, for the rest of his life... Jack knew he was going to die; either from lack of food, water, heat stroke, a bird attack... the possibilities were endless. Great, now I'm going to have to deal with my favorite dad in hell. Not like I'm going anywhere better, being a pirate and all... Jack hated all of the seriousness, and he wanted to forget it all. That's why he ran away in the first place. God, he thought, and not a drop of rum to make anything a bit happier. Well, I must go and do something incredibly stupid to take my mind off things. Oh, and might as well get back those cocoanuts. Ask quickly as jack had plopped himself down into the sand in that depressing sort of state, and stood up, shaking off his recent ponderings, and head in direction of his last hope of survival.
It hadn't been long before Jack Sparrow was his happy, naturally-drunk self, pacing along the edge of the waves, looking for stones to add to his rock collection. It was actually quite extensive, if he could say so himself. He formed the pile of stones in the shape of a ship, standing back and marveling his masterpiece. Not too bad for a pirate captain, if I can think so myself. Then he saw it... again... again. It was the most horrid thing that could have passed his frame of sight ever again, besides seeing Barbossa's face, of course. The bird was back. And being Jack Sparrow, he couldn't just let go his obsession with the thing that stole his dead crab. Trampling over his work of art, Jack chased the bird. He had to admit, that bird was determined. It just had to choose to land on the tallest palm tree on the island. Crazy ideas ran through his head. Was he really going to climb up a palm tree to so... something... to a strange. I never had climbed a palm tree... Why not?!
Pushing his calloused feet against the rough tree bark, he worked his way up the slightly leaning tree. Inch by inch, he made his way closer and closer to the bird. Its grip on the crab, which was surprisingly still in its mouth, was very loose. If only he was an arm lengths closer to its beak, he could just grab the crab, and hi life would be complete... The bird didn't seem to notice Jack creeping up beside it, it now seemed asleep. Almost there... and inch more and I'll have the crab shell as a prize, all to my onceys... And at that exact moment, the bird woke up. Being Jacks second mortal enemy in the past week, the bird decided to do the only thing that would seem appropriate, bite Jack's left hand. Being an average human being, Jack's injured hand let go of the palm and he swung there by one hand. "DAMN BIRD!" His hand was slipping, and the bird was eyeing his fingers like pieces of fresh fish. He knew it was going to come, and not a moment after he thought that, that bird snapped at his hand, its beak digging in just below his knuckles, oh, and releasing the crab. In a scream of pain, Jack let go of the tree's trunk, and fell a good fifteen feet to the ground.
It seemed as if he fell in slow motion. He grabbed his bloody hand, holding it up against his tattered sleeve. He remembered thinking, why must I hold grudges against large birds. Another thing, why did I climb this fucking tree in the first place?! Hopefully the sand will be soft... for the second time that day, Captain Jack Sparrow was knocked unconscious as he his the ground with a surprisingly hard thunk.