By Kitty =^.^=
A/N: Allo allo ev'eyone! Kitty here with another chapter. It's wasn't by the end of the week, but I DID update, just like we--I promised.
Smeagle: Please give us reviewses! Yeeees, yeeeeeees, nice reviews, good reviews, and then give us da precious!!
Kitty: Smeagle, not now! I'm trying to update!!
Smeagle: But...but we wants da precious! We wants it we does!
Kitty: sigh That's all fine and good, but I think people wanna read the story, not our silly conversations.
Smeagle: .................................but what about da--
Kitty: Ah-ah-AH!! No!! groan We better just start the chapter before we become our schizophrenic self again.........uh-oh.........
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"Need something, luv?" Jack asked, slightly annoyed.
"Oh, nofthing really," Giselle replied coyly, "just wondering if I could go with you for a bit." And then the devious forced smile...
"Uh, look, Elle--GISELLE," Jack silently cursed himself for using that name, "All I'm gonna be doin' is goin' round to the taverns'n'stuff. I won't be doin' anythin' too in'trest'ting..." Giselle stuck out her lip and began to whine.
"But Jaaa-aack!! Please," puppy-dog eyes... "Can' Oi go wiv you? Puh-leeease??" Ok, so she could look really, really pathetic when she wanted to...but Jack would not give in!!...............Oh, those eeeeeyes!!! Well--NO! Nonononono!! Sigh...
"All right..." I'm going to regret this, Jack thought as Giselle wrapped herself around Jack's arm, I just know I'm going to regret this...
As Jack and Ji--er, Giselle walked down the street, more and more onlookers began to poke their heads out of their windows and doors. While Jack looked around for a good pub to go in, Giselle talked. She talked a lot. And here and there she would giggle audaciously like the devious blonde princess she was. Jack didn't say much. All he wanted to do was find a tavern, go inside, get rum, get drunk...and try and forget.
"Jack?" The pirate looked up from the ground and turned to his unwanted companion. "Wha's the mattah with ye? Oi've been talking forevuh and I donn think you've 'eard a word Oi've said!" Jack began to turn his head down again, but Giselle jerked his arm causing his head to fly up. "Jaa-aack!!" And there was the whining again... Jack sighed.
"Sorry, Giselle, I just...have a lot on me mind, s'all, and just wanna do wha' I have to do and be done." Giselle didn't look satisfied with that. Her cloudy cobalt eyes began to flame with sharp cerulean. "Uh, I mean, find a pub! Yes! Find a pub, s'right! So, uh, where to then?" Jack smiled weakly, hoping that his recovered reply would sate her curiosity. She looked at him for a moment through narrowed dark-blue lined eyes...
"All right then!" she bubbily replied. "Uuuuuuuummm...'Ow bout 'ere?" They had stopped in front a tall wooden house (well, more a shack really...) and the sign above their heads read in once-flowing golden script, now chipped and faded yellow, Serum Pub. Jack's face softened.
"Yeah," he mumbled going through the shabby door, "This'll do." Dodging splatters of alcohol, flung chairs, and drunken sailors, the two made their way to the back of the pub and sat down at a table. A skinny old man with few teeth left came over and asked, "What'll it be, mates?"
"Just bring me a bottle of rum, the good stuff...and, uh, keep 'em coming." With a simple nod the elderly innkeeper started to walk away, but suddenly his head snapped back and the skin that dangled from his neck jiggled back and forth in such a way that even Giselle sucked in her lips and bugged out her eyes, looking like she was going to be sick. But the ancient bartender's eyes were even wider than hers. "JACK SPARROW!?!?" The whole room fell silent (with the exception of one bottle that was shattered over someone's head; the attacker was deaf...)
Jack froze and cautiously looked around. Okay, Captain Jack Sparrow, in a pub, with lots of people that he knew (at one time or another), and he was already settling into DITADI (deep-in-thought-and-depressingly-introspective) mode because of... No. Not gonna think about that now.
The pirate captain sat up straight and his chin tilted upwards. "Captain Jack Sparrow, IF you don't mi--AAGH!!" As if on cue, almost every person in the bar jumped out of their seats and ran over to the table Jack and Giselle were sitting at. Hands grabbed Jack's, bringing him into welcoming handclasps. Women's lips were pressed to Jack's face as Giselle tried to battle them off. And occasionally a dagger or two were drawn and pointed at Jack's throat. Luckily the fighters were drunk as hell and eventually slapped Jack on the back, saying it was good to have him back. One even started to cry and tell Jack how much he'd been missed. And then there were the questions...
"'Ow'd ye get the Pearl back from the bilge rat Barbosa, Sparrow?"
"We 'eard that mutinous crew marooned you on a god-forsaiken island off in the middle-o-nowhere's! 'Ow'd ye get off?!"
"Oy! I 'eard he roped a couple a sea turt'les! Is'at right Jack?"
"Nah, nah, twas sharks that 'ee roped, it'was! Were'n they Jack boy?"
"Why the bloody 'ell are ye around with this blonde strumpet instead a ME?!?!"
Well, that last question came from two women. The first was Chelsea (A/N: pronounced Chel-say-uh), Ana Maria's twin sister. The two looked exactly alike...except she was blonde (she apparently found British hair dye very fun to play with...) and a helluva lot more girlish. Cute though--AAGH, nononononoooo. And the second... SLAP!!
"Jack Sparrow, you rodgering arse-head!!"
Hmm, red-brown hair, red dress, lots of eye-liner, and--OUCH!! Jack looked up at the face of a very unhappy Scarlet, and then down at her iron-plated boot toes were mashing his poor foot into the ground. "Hey!" shouted Giselle, who was beginning to feel very unhappy about not being the centre of Jack's attention. She jumped up and pushed Scarlet back away from the table and screeched, "You ca'n do that to Jack, you rougey harlot!" Jack began to shake his head and put his worn hat over his head. In a flurry of nails, teeth, and hair, so began one of history's greatest catfights. And while about two thirds of the people around Jack left to watch, there was still more, which included--
"Oh Jaa-aack!" called a sweet voice with a mixture of Jamaican and British. "Look here at what I've got for ye..." Jack's hat was lifted slightly up from his face, just enough so that he could see a glass bottle waving in front of him, the dark brown liquid inside sloshing about. "How about a drink then, me dearest?" Jack looked at Chelsea's young, hopeful face. He wanted to smack it for some odd reason. He was cranky, we'll just suppose. At women especially. And then he looked at the bottle again.
"All right then, luv," Jack tipped his hat up more, smoothed out his moustache, and put on his most charming smile that he could manage at the moment. He tapped the seat next to him as Chelsea set two glasses down in front of him. "Les-ave-a-drink!" Finally. Rum.
Chelsea, looking quite pleased with herself, poured about a quarter of the bottle in Jack's glass and dispensed half of that into her own glass. Ignoring the two women still fighting in front of them, Jack's and Chelsea's glasses clinked together. Chelsea stared seriously into Jack's eyes and smiled fiendishly. "Welcome back, Captain Jack Sparrow," she murmured, glancing around at the men and women who had just come into the Serum Pub, hearing that a certain pirate captain was back. "You have been missed."
Jack's glazed eyes weren't even looking at Chelsea as his strangled voice came with the reply, "Yeah, missed by this lot, it's great..." Jack held his cup up to the moonlight that streamed through the open window, admiring the way it caught the glass, and swirling the liquor around, watched it run up the sides of the glass as it coated the rounded edges. A cruel smile played upon his lips and he proposed a toast to someone who was no longer with him. "To my return, and the future before me." And a happy birfthday to you, luv... With not another thought, Jack tipped his head back along with his glass and drained every drop of rum in it. He scrunched his eyes at the bittersweet taste as an onslaught of warm, pleasurable liquid fire lashed through his veins. He brought the glass back down to the table, practically slamming it. "Pour us another then, Chelsea." Jack waited for more rum to be flow into his glass, but it never came. He looked back up at Chelsea. "Whas' wrong, woman?" Jack asked rather irritated. "I said pour us another."
"Sorry, Jack," she answered rather dejectedly. "It's just, um," she tapped at her temple near her eye, "Ye, ye got tears in yer eyes, I thought it was too strong for ye, and that I'd wait a bit to give ye another." Jack inhaled sharply, and silently cursed himself for another time that night.
"Yeah, it...it is a bit stronger than the..." Jack fought to keep his shoulders rigid and straight, "i's stronger than the stuff I'm used teh drinkin' on me ship. I's..." his eyes were threatening to give way to downpour and his vision was hazy, "Tha's all i'is, yeah, I's too strong, we'll..." Chelsea finally began to pour him another drink, "We'll go wiv that." And once again, a draught of rum splashed down Jack's throat. The effect of it was starting to hit him now. Chelsea poured him another. Now normally, Jack was definitely a man who could "take his ale." Okay, maybe not definitely. Okay, okay, not at all. But after two huge glasses of rum, Jack was certainly feeling tipsy, at the very least. And that was what he wanted. To become so intoxicated that he couldn't remember a damn thing, to forget everything. Basically the object was to get whammed (if we were going to be very British about it...)
"Ah, AH, yesh, right then!" Jack shouted, the slur in his voice become more and more obvious. "Um, where be the, uh, the uh..." He looked to Chelsea for help. "Wha's that word again??" Jack waved his hands about, charade-ing the word he was looking for. Chelsea's eyes lit up and she threw her hands up in the air. "Ooh, a game! I love games! Pick me!!" The poor girl flipped aside her dyed banana-peel blonde hair with a smile and tried to assist him in his word search. He formed a circle with his forefingers.
"Um," Chelsea tried, and Jack waved his hands about more, "oh! Um, a circle?" Jack nodded and motioned her to continue on that track. "Oh, ok, uh, um, oh god, don't tell me. Ooh, ooh!" Jack's right hand grasped an imaginary handle and threw his head back, miming taking a drink of something. "Oh, is it a, a, a cup?" Jack nodded again and held his hand level above the table about 5 inches high (or at least as level as he could manage with rum running through him.)
"Right then, a cup, a cup. Uuuhhh, a shot glass?" Jack wagged his head 'no' and emphasized that the glass was supposed to be 5 inches high. "Nix the shot glass. Oh, is it a wine glass then?" Jack's head shook even more and he pretended to lift up the cup and slam it back down. "Not a wine glass either, eh? Uuuummm... a...champagne flute?" Jack's head was shaking violently now, causing his dreadlocks to fly all around his head. He stumbled over to a fat sailor who was sitting at the table next to them. Just as the man was about to take a drink, Jack grabbed the textured cup and held it up in the air, taking the sailor's hand with him. The man dropped to the floor and looked in wonder up at Jack who was waving the cup back and forth in the air, sloshing bits of whiskey out. The sailor, not being able to reach his drink at the moment stuck his tongue out and tried to catch the drops of liquor as the descended. Chelsea clapped her hands and pointed a triumphant finger at the cup Jack held in his hand. "OH!! Ohohohoh!! It's a pint!!" Jack tossed his hands back sending the drink flying (and the sailor, as he was standing up to take a real drink from the glass...)
"Tha's right! A pint. A pint! Le'ss 'ave one a those!" Jack took a step forward and his leg couldn't seem to find the floor, sending him crashing into the ground. "Oh, Jack!" Chelsea called and she jumped over the table to go get him. "You all right, mon? I don't think ye should have any more than you've had." Jack's downward face shot up suddenly as he exclaimed, "No more rum?" He struggled to his feet. "No more rum?!" His legs wobbled and he flopped back down upon his bottom. "Well!!" He tossed a limp hand up to his cheek so as to create the illusion he was considering something. "'Ow about some ale then? Or, uh, whiskey? Yes, whiskey. And then of course there's rum!" Jack groggily shook his head. "No, nope, wait, we said that one's gone...what about, uh...rum! Yes rum is always good!"
Chelsea rolled her eyes and pulled Jack to his feet, and dragged him back to his table. "Wait here, ye great oaf," Chelsea shouted laughing. "I'll go get ye a pint."
"Or two!" Jack called to her as she walked away. "Yes, yes, a pint...or two." Just then, Jack felt two slim hands resting on either of his shoulders. "'Allo captain, my captain," said two distinctly feminine voices. Jack tried to turn around and see who it was.
Hmm, no one over 'ere on the right side. Now, he may have been drunk but he thought he had heard shuffling of feet and a swish of skirts. He turned to the left. No, no one over 'ere either. Jack shook his head for the hundredth time that night and turned himself straight. I wonder if I'm already that drun--WOAH! Standing in front of him were the two disgruntled and dishevelled women who had earlier been fighting. Scarlet and Giselle. "Oh, uh, yes," Jack dazedly replied. "Allo girls. What brings ye two to see ole Jack then, m'dears?" The two giggled and slid onto the bench, Scarlet on the right and Giselle on the left.
"Well, after a bit a fightin'," began Scarlet, pressing a cold shot glass to her slightly swollen eye, "We've come to an agreement."
"We've decided to share ya," Giselle continued, "en not troi en kill each uvva." Jack slumped down in his seat and rubbed his temples with his forefingers.
"Don't I get a say in this, then?" The two women looked at each other, speaking silently with little glances, nods, and raised eyebrows.
"No," was their simultaneous answer.
Jack shook his head and threw his hands up in defeat. "Just like always, I s'pose." Just then, Chelsea came back carrying a tray with 8 pints of rum. "All that for me then, luv?" Jack asked hopefully gazing at the bubbles fizzing out of the glasses and onto the tray. Chelsea shook her head, tossing several strands of bright sandy yellow hair over her shoulder.
"You wish, Jack," Chelsea answered saucily. She set four of the mugs down in front of him in a square. "Only four of 'em are."
Jack stared at the rich brown liquid fizzing and popping and sending little bubbles into the air with a mixture of longing and desolation in his eyes. More rum meant several things: he was gonna get even more drunk, he wasn't gonna know what he was doing, but most importantly of all... I'll forget. Jack seized the handle of the first mug. I'll forget what today is. He downed the first half of the rum. I'll forget why I hate it. He finished the second half and licked a drop from the glass lip. I'll forget why I love it. He slammed the empty pint down and reached for the second. I'll forget why it's important to me. His vision began to swim as rivers of rum flowed down his cheeks and beard as he tried to drink it all in one swallow. I'll forget what happened... The three women began to gaze worriedly at Jack, almost fearing the crazed estranged look in his eyes. And I'll remember why I should forget. The third mug was empty now, and with lethargic hands Jack reached for the fourth. With one glass, I'll drink away my love for her impulsive, ambitious nature. He pressed his lips around the edge of the glass. With two, I'll forget my adoration for her loving eyes, how she swept away my loneliness, how she was my perfect match. He tipped the mug backwards and the liquor began to fill his mouth. I'll drink the third and lose the memories of the times we had and her joy of life. The taste thrashed against his tongue. And with a fourth glass, I'll forget my need for her, further drowning out the voice in my head that tells me to find her and hold her in my arms again. Only a third of the rum was gone from the glass he still held in his hand, but Jack reached for Giselle's while still holding his mug. And what's a fifth gonna hurt? He chugged the remaining drink from Giselle's mug. 'Cause with a fifth I'll lose my restlessness and no thought will provoke remembrance of her. He made a grab for Chelsea's but she pulled away, so Scarlet's was the next drink to be stolen. With each drink, Jack tried to drink away inhibitions, memories, fears, hopes, adoration, for they all linked back to her. And a sixth... Jack's head heaved forward and lolled over the table as he tried to defy the emphasised gravity, due to his heavy drinking, and get the last drink down, to complete the ritual. And the sixth will... Scarlet and Giselle began to beg Chelsea for a sip of her rum and Jack's brain realised that he needed two hands to lift the heavy mug. And the sixth, despite its imperfection, will destroy that place in my mind where I imagine us in love with burning passion, where I take joy in protecting her and I revel in her love for me, where she adores being watched over by me and cares for me. The laughing, screaming faces in front of him twisted and whirled and spun about. Jack let the mug fall from his hand and it landed on the table with a loud clink. His palms were pressed against the table. His chest heaved in and out with heavy breaths. Jack let out a heavy, shaky sigh as the effect of the alcohol fully gripped him, making his frame rigid with tension. I'm going to forget about her, he thought fiercely, his shoulders shaking and his eyes squeezing shut. I'm going to forget and never remember.
The three women around Jack were all looking distraughtly at him.
"Whaddye think is wrong wiv 'im then?" whispered Giselle.
"I do'n know," murmured Chelsea. "Too much rum maybe?"
"Maybe 'ee lost a job or somefthing on a ship," offered Scarlet, "and...now 'ee's...depressed?"
Suddenly Jack shouted with abandon, "Right then! I say we sing a, uh, uh...a song, YES, a song!"
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A/N: Ack! I'm sorry luvs. It's been so long since I update. It's just that school's been a bitch and--NO, we musn't tries to get out of its, we musn't nono. We...musn't...s?? No, causes we iss been procrastinatings forevers!!! So it's iss our fault. Whaaa?? Ok, whatever, but-but-but sniff I'm putting on new chapters!! sob I-I-I have been trying, I have!! sobcrywhimperwhimper, runs away to get her ass in gear and write more chapters and update 'em...
Until next time dear readers,
~*Kitty*~
=^.^=
P.S.
I'm going to try and update more frequently. Since tomorrow is Wednesday, and I have an 80-minute study hall, I shall update Chapter 8. And that shall be my update day forevermore!! So basically I'll update every day of wednes (or every other one...) Laters!