RETURN TO THE BLACK PEARL
I would like to thank all my reviews for reviewing, especially Raberba girl, for your insightful comments. And for the flattery, of course.
CAST OF THOUSANDS: Aren't you going to thank us?
ME: What for?
CAST OF THOUSANDS: Gracing your story with our presence, of course.
However, I would like to thank my muses: my gerbils, Squeaky and Pete, who provided me with the inspiration for this chapter. And all the other chapters, of course.
Chapter Three, Scene Five
Jack was firmly escorted down the hall by several marines to a cell that looked familiar. And occupied. A dirty, seedy-looking pirate leaned against one wall; an intoxicated man dozed his way through a hangover against another.
Jack was tossed roughly inside. He picked himself gingerly, nursing bruises and his sore arm.
He stared at his cellmates. The drunken man slept blissfully on, oblivious to Jack's gaze, so he turned his attention to the other. After a few minutes of careful study, Jack was forced to acknowledge that he knew him from somewhere. "Have we met?" he asked cautiously.
"Yep," said his cellmate, spitting a stream of tobacco against the wall. Jack flinched away to avoid being hit. Then the memory clicked. This was one of the pirates who had tried to lure the key-guarding dog into trading in the keys for a mutton bone. "You ever get out, or are they just relocating you?" inquired Jack's cellmate.
"I got out," Jack bragged. "I got the dog to move. But that's not how I got out," he admitted.
"How, then?" said the other prisoner, spitting again.
"Leverage," Jack said mysteriously, then sighed. It looked to be a long night. "When's dinner?"
"Don't know," said the seedy-looking prisoner comfortably, settling back against his wall.
Jack sighed again.
I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. I think my muses are broken. And you know, the best way to fix a broken muse IS TO REVIEW THEM!
