It was an odd group gathered on The Black Pearl, only five passengers in all. Will and Elizabeth Turner were staring at the sunset, embracing, and whispering sickeningly sweet nothings in each other's ears. A second couple was down below; quite possibly in all definitions of the phrase. Then there was Jack. Captain Jack Sparrow was at the wheel feeling a bit apprehensive about the journey. He'd intended on taking Will and Elizabeth on a pleasure cruise as a wedding gift/thank you to them for saving his life. He was now wishing that he had been hung at Port Royale because the sound of their nightly exercises was getting stuck in his ears. Not that he really had a problem overhearing others copulating, but it was a sore reminder that he was not occupied in the same business. He had brought Giselle along on the journey for this purpose. The added benefit of her not slapping him upon seeing his face would be a bonus as well. However, Giselle had barely noticed his existence since they had set sail. Her affections and intentions were squarely planted on the trousers of a certain Commodore Norrington. It was bad enough that he had insisted on chaperoning the voyage. He was concerned for Elizabeth's safety in the clutches of "a madman and his whore". For some reason Norrington still did not trust Jack, despite having fought the undead together. But hearing Norrington and Giselle having an opportune moment every moment of every day was just too much. True, Giselle was a whore, but she was his whore, Norrington had even called her such, he'd paid money for her and Norrington was making the deposit on his deposit.
Despite the excessive moans, grunts, and screams, the journey had been quite nice. So far it had been just a little jaunt out to sea. Perhaps they'd visit a nice island with natives that would remind him of the good old days in Singapore. Jack was starting to sink deeply into his fantasy when Elizabeth remarked, "What's that up ahead?"
"Oh nothing sweetheart, Jack knows what he's doing," said Will rather preoccupied with her neck.
"I wouldn't be so sure," Elizabeth said gently pushing Will away. "Jack what is that?"
"…really bad eggs," sang Jack absently.
"Jack!"
"You want it where? Oh you saucy sl-"
"Jack! Oh for God's sake, get away from the wheel and let me steer," said Elizabeth shoving Jack and trying to swing the ship starboard.
"Elizabeth, you don't know how to steer a ship! Let Jack do it," Will said half-heartedly.
"If I let Jack steer us we'll be going straight into that thing up ahead. I don't know what it is, but it looks like a whirlpool or something that should be avoided at any rate," Elizabeth retorted defensively.
"That's not a whirlpool. It's a plothole," Jack eerily whispered.
"A what?"
"A plothole! Turn the ship quickly!" Jack ran to the wheel but Elizabeth had already turned it as far as it would go. The misty shape loomed closer, and at rapid pace they were sailing right into it.
"La, what cheek," warbled Sir Percy Blakeney at the top of his lungs.
Marguerite was bored. She was indeed proud of her husband for his brave works. Saving lives every day and hiding his identity had become part of her daily life. She was also aware of his necessity to parade about as a fop, but did he have to have so much fun with it? Her brother Armand was loitering about the hors d'oeuvres attempting to coerce some young woman into bed with him. At the Prince of Wales parties Armand could always be seen at the food table. His thought process was that the women who hovered about the food were more desperate for a quick romp around the veranda. He was a pig…in every sense of the word as he shoveled three deviled eggs into his mouth at once. However, at the moment he was more entertaining than her husband's five hundredth rendition of "The Scarlet Pimpernel".
Then she caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye. A strange shape was hovering out of the window on the lawn. What was it? She hadn't had that much champagne. She strode over to the window to get a closer look. She wasn't the only one who had noticed it. There was someone dressed in black staring at it outside as well. Then the man turned around. Good God it was Chauvelin. Would he never stop hunting them down? Hundreds of French nobles were being beheaded each week, why did the few Percy managed to save matter so much to him? No time for rhetorical questions Marguerite thought. He'd seen her too and was running toward the door. She had to warn Percy and Armand. The rest of the band were keen enough to notice, but Armand was dumber than a post and when Percy was singing and flouncing in front of a crowd he was in a different world. She ran to Armand and without a word clenched her hand around his arm and swung him to the main lounge where Percy was. Marguerite was an expert at weaving through a crowd without drawing attention to herself. Unfortunately Armand was not…and he was drunk.
"What did you do that for? I was going to get-"
"Silence!" she hushed through her clenched, smiling teeth. But it was too late. Armand's outburst had alerted Citizen Chauvelin to their whereabouts. Fortunately, Marguerite keenly noticed, the rest of the Pimpernel's men had noticed too and scattered. She had to get them outside. If Chauvelin did catch them it was better that it happened outside in the dark. Duels were always better away from large crowds of people. Still if he could at all be avoided…
Percy had just finished the song and was working the crowd when Marguerite sidled next to him, Armand still grumpily in tow, and muttered under breath "The Frenchy is here". Percy immediately took action. Without a split second of hesitation he made an announcement. "La, Lovely Ladies and Gentlemen, That was my last number, I do apologize, but I am afraid there is no time for an encore. My brother-in-law it seems has consumed a bit more champagne than he can handle. Ta Ta." With that he steered Marguerite down a hallway and behind a curtain where there was a secret panel. Amazing how quickly a 6' tall man dressed in blazing pink could stealthily maneuver about a crowd when needed. Marguerite gave him one quick admiring look as he pushed the panel open, and they appeared behind the shrubbery in the lawn. The misty shadow was hovering about twenty meters away. Marguerite heard Chauvelin's boots echoing down the hall. She shoved Armand out of the way to try and get them out from behind the shrubbery so they could make a run for it. Unfortunately he stumbled straight into the vegetative obstacle. The echoes stopped. Chauvelin must be inspecting the curtain. He was only feet away.
Percy and Marguerite each grabbed an arm of her confused brother and yanked as hard as they could. Armand yelped in drunken anguish. She reminded herself to beat the merde out of him when all this was done. They managed to drag Armand from the shrubbery just as Chauvelin pushed open the panel. Armand took one look at the man dressed all in black, screamed as if he were a six year old girl and ran…straight toward the strange cloud. Percy chased after him. Marguerite stopped briefly, removed her heels and ran after him. Chauvelin was in hot pursuit. Marguerite turned and noticed he was leery of the strange mist as well. She hurled her shoes at his head and continued running. What was Armand doing? He was going to run right through it? Or into it? Percy dove to shove Armand away from the thing, but he lost his footing. Armand toppled to the ground, and Percy staggered for a moment. He gave one desperate look to his wife before he tumbled into the seething mass and was gone. Marguerite screamed. He'd vanished; her husband was gone. Not caring she vaulted after him into the mist.
Patrick was quite pleased with himself. He had invited everyone for a little party out on his new boat. Something he had decided to splurge on as a wedding present to himself. Sally had not liked the idea at first as they lived in London, and wouldn't be able to use it often. However, she was definitely enjoying herself now. Granted she was filled with several glasses of brandy and would most likely be serenading them all with her rendition of "Susan: the Happy Little Elf" at any moment, but who cared. Susan and Steve had found a babysitter and were snuggling together. Jane was thoroughly engrossed in pretending to listen to Oliver's full-scale reenactment of the latest Dr. Who novel. And Jeff was congratulating Patrick on suing for the rights to proceeds from sales of the "Junior Patrick". Granted he had had to submit photographs to prove that the incredibly large dildo was indeed a cast of his own penis to the court, but Patrick had never been one to have shame about anything. Especially when he had earned several thousand pounds in the process. It seemed every woman in London had a "Junior Patrick" at home. Something Patrick was growing incredibly proud of. He was just considering humming the theme to Spiderman to get Sally aroused when he saw something rapidly moving toward them.
"What is that?" asked Jane.
"I was just wondering that myself," Patrick responded.
"It could be a lesbian pirate ship," Jeff exclaimed as he excitedly stumbled forward.
"No Jeff, there are no lesbian pirate ships," said Steve rather amused. He was very grateful that Jeff had returned from the island of Lesbos with only a little bit of disappointment. He also had not returned as a woman as Steve had had continuing nightmares about. For some reason Jeff's outrageous comments were a comfort, and though they were at times annoying, embarrassing or inappropriate, it was good to have them back. Still Jeff was right. It did look like a pirate ship. But what would a pirate ship with black sails be doing off the coast of Brighton?
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think Jeff is right. About the Pirate ship thing not the lesbian thing," Susan commented.
"Well it could be a lesbian pirate ship. Do you think they'd let me on board? I'm only half a lesbian," Jane pouted.
Steve was exasperated. He'd been through this conversation with Jane before. "Half a lesbian? Jane, you're not bisexual."
"Yes I am. I'll have sex 'by' anything."
"Maybe it's a Dalek Pirate ship! Go away you evil Daleks! The Doctor's not here!" Oliver yelled. Jane gave an understanding smile and patted Oliver on the head. This did not stop the group from staring at him with confusion. "Are you staring at my nipples or did I say something a little too weird?"
"I know what it is!" proclaimed the drunken Sally. "It's Susan's ass as seen through a microscope. It appears tiny and round until you look closely, and then it's huge, pointy, and full of men."
"That was a long time ago in Australia. Do you have to keep bringing that up?" Susan whispered a little too loudly.
"As fascinating as my wife's ass is are any of you remotely concerned that there seems to be a real pirate ship headed straight toward us?" questioned Steve.
"Not really," "No," and "What Fun we're going to have," were the responses he got. The ship was now close enough that they could make out five figures peering back at them. Steve was about to ask Patrick to turn the boat around and avoid the whole situation when Jane started yelling at the ship.
"Hello! Over Here! We're having a party, we'd love to have some lesbian pirates join us." With that she lifted her top and proceeded to flash the oncoming vessel. This certainly got their attention, and the small group on the pirate ship weighed anchor and gathered in the rowboat to come over and meet them. Oliver seemed concerned.
"Jane, I don't like the idea of my girlfriend showing her breasts to strange pirates."
"Would you prefer I show them to pirates I know?"
"Oliver, there's no reason to be concerned, all of London has seen Jane's breasts," said Steve quite calmly.
Jeff looked disappointed. "I haven't!"
"Well have a look now. Jane turn around," ordered Patrick. By this point the row boat had pulled up along side the drunken revelers and Captain Jack Sparrow climbed aboard.
"Thank you for your guiding…Beacons, my dear lady." Jack gallantly proclaimed.
"I'll handle this," barked Norrington climbing aboard as well.
"Button your fly first," Jack said in the smarmiest way he could. "Now what century and country are we in?" Jack had been dragged through so many plotholes by scary fangirls that he was now an expert in time travel. At that moment, however, Sally screamed at the top of her lungs.
"You have the most perfect skin. How did you do that? What moisturizer do you use?" She flung herself past Jack and Norrington and straight into the little rowboat and on top of Will. Before Elizabeth could object or Patrick could attempt to drag his wife back onto the boat, more screaming was heard. A man had fallen from the air and right onto the deck of the boat. Like the piratic strangers, he was wearing remarkable clothing that seemed as if he'd come from a fancy dress party. Before anyone could adjust to the fact that a man had fallen onto the deck he was joined by a woman.
"Well that didn't go exactly to plan," Sir Percy said glancing around at the bevy of strangers surrounding him and his wife.
Steve decided to take charge of the situation. "Alright everyone. It seems as if we are all entirely too drunk or some kind of scientific phenomenon has just happened. So before we all get too spastic, angry, scared, or nude, why don't we start off with introductions? State your name, where you are from, and if applicable what century you are from."
For the complete randomness of the situation everyone took the fact that they had traveled across time and space rather well. Jack explained the phenomenon of plotholes and how they would all end up in their own time if they waited long enough. Introductions were made and ended with Giselle.
"O.K. Now I know this is a joke," said Susan. "You can't be Giselle, because I was Giselle."
"I thought you said your name was Susan?" Norrington inquired.
"You're not Giselle, We're Giselle!" screamed Jane and Sally together.
"No, I am Giselle!" screamed the real Giselle
Jack attempted to sort it out. "She's Giselle you ditzy whores."
"No I'm the whore. Well I'm both. I am Giselle…the French Whore," corrected Giselle.
"I want to be a whore too," piped in Jane.
"I want a whore," piped in Jeff.
This was getting out of hand. "Hold it!" said Steve and Norrington together. They looked at each other and paused. Granted one was wearing a white wig and the other was in jeans, but they couldn't deny it was like looking in a mirror.
"It's my lucky day. I can have a threesome without cheating on my husband," Susan gleefully remarked.
"What?" the two men responded, but with quite different intonations. Steve seemed quite upset at the idea of a threesome involved two men. Norrington's adventures with Giselle and his lack of duty to the crown at the moment were making him a bit more adventurous. And he seemed up to the challenge. He began to stare at Susan's breasts.
"The left one's a bit nicer," Patrick slyly informed him.
"STOP TALKING!"
Everyone stared at Elizabeth standing quite upset in the center of the circle now. "Is anyone here remotely concerned that we are all complete strangers and seven of us should not be in this time or country?"
"Actually we are in the right country," said Marguerite. She was just grateful her husband was alive.
"But you sound French," Jeff stated.
"I was French, but I now live in England," Marguerite politely explained.
"Does that make you Giselle The French Bitch," asked Jane.
Before Marguerite could quite understand this Jeff stumbled into the conversation again. "I love French accents. I love any accents. Come to think of it I just love women...and breasts. Do you love women…and breasts?"
Marguerite was a bit confused. "I'm not quite sure how to respond to that. My husband can be very effeminate. And I love him. But that is the extent of my…curiosities."
"I could help you extend some of your curiosities," Jack said with a dashing bow. "It's been a long time since I've enjoyed the company of a lady as dignified as yourself. Perhaps you would permit me to become better acquainted with you? Savvy?"
Marguerite was taken aback by this strange man with his strange mannerisms. Was he an opium addict? A sadistic chocolate maker? Or just deranged? Either way he was definitely attractive and more interesting than Jeff. But where was Percy? She looked around. He was engrossed in conversation with Sally about the development of hair products over the last few hundred years and the two of them had strapped Will down to a chair and were treating him as their very own Barbie doll. They had gotten a long blonde wig from somewhere, which Will was proudly wearing. He looked a bit elfish. Elizabeth, she noticed, was attempting to avoid the amorous attention of Jeff, Oliver, and Jane. Marguerite turned back to Jack. She didn't know what he meant by savvy, but she figured getting better acquainted couldn't hurt. Perhaps he could help her find a way out of this mess. She decided to put her acting skills to good use.
"Of course, kind sir. I would be honored to know you better. Perhaps I can pry some information from you about these plotholes. I can be very accommodating." Jack smiled evilly. Somehow he didn't think she was thinking the word "acquaint" meant the same thing he did.
Steve looked around. What a disaster. Giselle was giving Patrick a lap dance, Marguerite and Jack were headed down below, and he hadn't seen Susan or Norrington in quite some time. This worried him. At drunken parties Sally was the loud one, Jane was the nude one, and Susan was the horny one. Usually he preferred it that way, but not when there was someone at the party who looked just like him, spoke better, wore a uniform, and had come from a different time. At least Norrington didn't have an Australian accent. Steve was about to go downstairs and deal with this Commodore person when two more men fell from the sky and landed right in front of him.
"Where is he? Damn! I'll track him down. I'll find him. Just like a falcon in the dive," angrily muttered the bizarre man in black at Steve's feet.
"What is a falcon in the dive?" questioned Armand.
"I'll deal with you later. There he is!" Chauvelin dashed across the boat sword drawn about to attack Percy from behind. Unfortunately, curious as to whether or not it was indeed a real sword, Oliver had run over to him. Oliver discovered rather quickly and unpleasantly that Chauvelin did in fact have a real sword. He had skewered him with it.
"Craziness," Oliver cheerfully proclaimed as he dropped in a puddle of blood.
"You naughty, naughty man you. You've just killed my boyfriend. I'm going to have to confiscate this," scolded Jane as she forcefully ripped the sword from a very shocked Chauvelin. It was beginning to dawn on him that he was no longer on the lawn at the Prince of Wales palace. He was no longer in his own time period, and he had just killed some stranger who was not the Scarlet Pimpernel. But who was this strange woman admonishing him as if he was a child? And why was she stroking him?
"You have obviously been under a great deal of stress. Killing people is not a very polite thing to do. Now what's your name?"
"Citizen Chauvelin," he stammered.
"How adorable. You're French. Are you Giselle the French Bitch? Nevermind. There's no way I'll be able to pronounce your name so I'll just call you Mon Petite Chau. That means my little cabbage doesn't it?"
Jeff interrupted Jane and Chauvelin. "Is anyone worried that Oliver is dead?"
"Not really. He was basically just your replacement while you were away. But you're back. Still I guess we'd better turn this guy into the police," Patrick said as he removed the vigorous Giselle from his lap and turned the boat back to the shore. Giselle repositioned herself on Patrick's lap again as they set off toward land. Jeff and Armand started talking about breasts and managed to construct a corset out of a life vest. They were just in the middle of trying to convince Elizabeth to try it on when Steve sidled over.
"You know you look just like Keira Knightly," said Steve.
"Who?" said Elizabeth rather exasperated. She was threatening Jeff and Armand with a beer bottle she had picked up. Unfortunately this only seemed to intrigue them more as they had both had way too much to drink and the bottle was rather phallicly shaped.
"Never mind. Look would you mind helping me get my wife out of the clutches of that man who scarily bears my face?" Steve pleaded.
"What? You mean Norrington, oh you don't need to worry about him, he's a gentleman. Unless your wife is a whore," explained Elizabeth.
"Only in Australia." With that they headed down below. Jeff and Armand started building a pyramid from beer bottles. Percy and Sally had now stripped poor Will to his undergarments and were squeezing him into the corset Jeff and Armand had made. Chauvelin was having his own problems with Jane.
"Madam, I am not a play toy."
"It's mademoiselle thanks to you and your naughty habit of killing people. Besides all men are playthings, particularly when they're wearing such stylish cravats."
"You think my cravat is stylish? Blakeney always makes fun of it."
"I think it's very sexy," Jane coyly twirled it in her fingers. At that moment Sally snatched the cravat off of Chauvelin and ran away giggling.
"If you will excuse me mademoiselle I must go and take Sir Percy's head." Chauvelin tried to extricate himself from Jane's rather spidery grip.
"No Mon Petite Chau you cannot take anyone's head. That's your problem. If you're always taking head you need to learn how to give it." With that she dropped her pants and pinioned Chauvelin between her thighs. He was flabbergasted. He didn't know what to do. The Pimpernel was the farthest thing from is mind. All he could think was…Shaved?
Down below things were quite entertaining. Marguerite and Jack were playing a drinking game, and so far they seemed to be a match for each other. This was quite thrilling for Jack, as few men could match his drinking skills let alone a woman in a corset. Meanwhile Norrington was interrogating Susan about why the sofa cushion had been invented. This seemed to weaken her interest in him immensely. And she was now eyeing Jack out of the corner of her eye. Steve and Elizabeth walked in and persuaded Norrington that perhaps he should rescue Will from the clutches of the fashion queens. Susan then grabbed Steve and Jack and whisked them off into the bedroom, much to their surprise and dismay. This left Elizabeth and Marguerite alone in the room together.
"Would you like a drink my dear?"
"No thank you," Elizabeth politely declined.
"Vivez! Live"
"No thank you"
Marguerite then began to sing a rather drunken version of "Vivez".
"Do you always warble when you sing?" Elizabeth rather coolly asked.
"Percy likes my warble."
"Percy seems to like a lot of things. Especially my husband." Elizabeth rather harshly commented.
"My husband is into frou frou. I will admit. But he is very much straight, no matter what the slashy fangirls say. Besides you should talk. Is your husband particularly manly?" Marguerite said in the most politely insulting way imaginable.
"He has rough hands and…" but Elizabeth trailed off. At that moment Will walked down the stairs wearing an orange corset, blonde wig, black cravat tied around his thigh like a garter, Percy's tights, and Sally's skirt. And he had more make up on than Tammy Faye. He rather sheepishly asked where the bathroom was. Marguerite resisted the urge to laugh and pointed to the bedroom. At that moment however Steve popped his head out.
"Elizabeth do you happen to have a wicker bikini? I just thought since you looked so much like Keira Knightly and all…No? Never mind" and he locked the door behind him.
"Is there another bathroom?"
Elizabeth coolly replied no, but offered her husband a bottle.
"Oh, no, I don't need to pee I just want to see how fabulous I look."
Marguerite flung an arm around Elizabeth and said, "Welcome to my world." Just then they heard sirens screeching relatively close by. Marguerite, Elizabeth and Will ran up onboard and saw the police rushing toward the ship and they instantly knew why. Norrington was enraptured by Steve's copy of Lesbian Spank Inferno. Jeff and Armand were fencing with "Junior Patricks". Jane had fallen off the ship and was treading water completely naked while a very drunk Chauvelin was sadly singing, "Where's the girl?" And Percy and Sally had stripped poor Giselle of her attire and were proceeding to adorn Patrick with them in the absence of Will.
"We can explain!" cried Will, Elizabeth and Marguerite rushing off the boat and toward the policemen, but as all three were dressed as 18th century women they were immediately handcuffed.
A knock was softly coming upon the bedroom door. Steve was wide-awake and very disturbed at what had just occurred, though both Susan and Jack seemed very pleased. He got up and opened the door slowly. Jane was on the other side…very wet and very naked.
"Do you have any clothes? I can't drive to jail naked!"
"What? Jane why are you naked?"
"That's not important right now, what's important is that I release mon petite Chau!"
"What," Steve again confusedly cried.
"Release," inquired Susan.
"Naked," inquired Jack.
"Everyone stop staring at my breasts and focus," Jane yelled.
"At the moment I'm doing both," Jack replied.
"Everyone has been arrested! Now someone give me some clothing so I can get my little citizen back."
"Your little what!"
Jack handed her his coat and they all piled into the car. When they got to the station they all decided that Jack was too suspicious looking and should stay in the car. Which he agreed to do, though had no intention of doing. Steve, Susan, and Jane walked into the station and up to the front desk.
"Pardon us…We're here to pick up some friends of ours who we believe have been falsely arrested. They're all quite insane and quite drunk is there anything we can do to speed up their release?" Steve stated trying to keep composure with a dripping Jane wearing a piratic overcoat next to him.
"Lemme guess the boat incident?" snarkily questioned the woman on duty.
"Precisely," Steve responded with a big smile. "What exactly have they been arrested for?"
"Technically only murder, but we're not sure who did it and they were all being a drunken cross dressing nuisance so we thought we'd haul them all in. Who are you," the heavyset woman asked in a very suspicious tone.
"My name is Steve Taylor,"
"I'm Susan…his wife,"
"And I'm Jane…his girlfriend.
"What? Jane you are not my girlfriend."
"Yes I am, just because you're all married now doesn't mean our relationship is over."
"Jane," Susan angrily chimed in. "You haven't been in a relationship with Steve for over four years."
Jane looked confused, "Well how does that matter? He liked my dead aunt."
"Jane, Oliver is your boyfriend now," Steve tried to smile back at the woman behind the desk who had stood up and was reaching for a large club.
"But Oliver's dead, Steve. And you can't blame Chau Chau, we pretty much all killed him once Jeff came back."
With that the woman behind the desk forcibly shoved all three of them to the ground and began to handcuff them.
Jack had gotten out of the car shortly after the others had gone inside. He figured they had about 900 words left before the plotholes showed up again and he was determined to enjoy himself before heading back to Port Royale. He set out to find a fangirl…and some rum. He headed for the one place he was sure to find both…the local pub. Granted he got a few strange looks meandering the streets of Brighton, but eventually he came across a little hole in the wall with a wooden placard above the door. The Saucy Pirate it read. Perfect! He sauntered in and everyone looked up from their drinks, paused for a moment, and began to applaud. Apparently they were having a costume contest and he had walked directly into the line up for the final judging.
"We 'ave a winna! You 'ave gawt ta be the sauciest pirate we 'ave ever seen in 'ere. What's yer name?" said the commonest, toothless woman Jack had ever seen, a remarkable feat indeed. Rather taken aback, but never giving up a chance to show off, he proudly proclaimed his name and informed them that he was, in fact, a real pirate. This got a mild applause from the audience. Jack then let loose a big "Yarrrr" which garnered a standing ovation from the pubs rather seedy clients. The cockney woman then handed him 700 pounds as the award for best costume. Perfect, that would pay for several bottles of rum and a nice whore. Then again, he thought, maybe I should get two not-so-nice whores. He swaggered over to the bar.
Just then a mummy walked up and slapped him in the face. Jack was usually very used to this, but the mummy in question was male. "You bastard! I was trying to raise money to bail my friends out of jail. How dare you? Wait…Jack?" At this point Jack finally recognized the bandaged attacker as none other than Oliver, the Dr. Who obsessed boyfriend of the naked woman.
"I thought you were dead," questioned Jack.
"No, just impaled," Oliver cheerfully replied.
"Oh, good to know."
"I just fainted after being run through with a sword, when the cops came it woke me up and I staggered to the hospital, you know it's not very fun being stabbed, I have new respect for ninjas now, but anyway, as soon as they patched me up I ran here, cause I'd heard about the costume contest and thought it would be a good way to raise money to bail everyone out, originally I was going to come as the Doctor, but then I figured hey I'm already all wrapped up, why not come as a mummy and then this totally wanker decided to-"
"Lovely story, but if you'll excuse me I am in desperate need of a drink and a whore."
"But you've won!"
"A drink and a whore?"
"No, seven hundred pounds."
"What's the difference?"
"What about our friends in jail?"
"What about them?"
"They're in jail!"
"Yes I am aware, but Steve, Susan, and Our lady of the Glorious Beacons are getting them out right now."
"Jane's with them? Oh don't you see they'll get arrested too! We've got to help them," angrily cried Oliver who tried to wrench the money from Jack's hand.
"They'll be fine for a few hours, trust me, I've been in jail before."
"There are whores in jail…"
"Good point. Let's go," with that Jack and Oliver quickly left the pub and found their way back to the police station. They went up to the desk and asked how much it would cost to bail out the fourteen people all locked in the same cell.
"They're wanted for murder…you can't bail them out."
"But I'm the one they murdered."
"And he's not dead, see?"
She gave them a suspicious look, but was quite tired of dealing with the whole situation. "Seven hundred pounds for bail, but you gotta keep an eye on the one in black. He kept trying to kill himself when he found out there's a tunnel connecting England and France."
"I've got bandages, we'll just tie him up," said Oliver.
"By the way are there any ladies of negotiable affection lurking about? No? Just checking."
The entire group was back on the water and Will, Elizabeth, Norrington, Giselle, and Jack were about to get back in their rowboat and onto The Black Pearl again. Will had posed for several pictures for Sally, which she agreed to send to Percy whenever she could figure out how to mail things back to the past. Will had finally changed back into his own clothes, but kept Chauvelin's cravat/garter for purposes known only to himself. Giselle had reverted her affections back upon Norrington due to the fact that he had swiped a "Junior Patrick" when no one was looking. Elizabeth was rather sulky, and Susan was very sad to see Jack go. He gave her one last kiss goodbye and gave Steve a rather sheepish wink. Marguerite said goodbye to Jack and Elizabeth and the Caribbean crew rowed back to their ship to await the coming plothole. Chauvelin had calmed down after being bound and gagged, but was now in a very deep state of depression because Jane was so overjoyed at Oliver not being dead that she had completely forgotten the existence of her little cabbage. They had left him bound, just to be on the safe side. Percy was telling Marguerite about all the wonderful facial cleansers Sally had given him, and Armand was clutching the copy of Lesbian Spank Inferno as if it were a teddy bear.
Just then a swirling dark mass appeared just off the boat over the water…time to go home. Everyone pitched in to hurl the screaming, bound Chauvelin overboard. Unfortunately they missed the plothole and he just fell in the water. Armand dove in after him to save him but forgot that he didn't know how to swim. Fortunately he used his "Junior Patrick" as a flotation device and managed to drag the sinking, waterlogged citizen into the plothole. Percy said goodbye to Sally as Marguerite sighed with relief at the thought of finally returning home. They carefully leapt into the seething mass and landed squarely on the lawn of the Prince of Wales the morning after the party. They left Chauvelin bound and returned home quite exhausted from their adventurous little jaunt.
The group left aboard Patrick's boat waved goodbye one last time to their new friends, and former inmates, as The Black Pearl vanished into the mysterious plothole. Steve and Susan went down below with new vigor from the new ideas Jack had given them the night before. Sally began to adorn Patrick with the blonde wig previously worn by Will and adjusted Giselle's dress on him as he was still wearing it. Jane was thoroughly engrossed in pretending to listen to Oliver's full-scale reenactment of his adventures in the hospital and at The Saucy Pirate. Jeff was attempting to figure out how to market his life vest/corset invention to the various Goth clubs in London. They all slowly drifted back toward the shore and stable non-time-shifting humanity.
The Black Pearl drifted off toward the rising sun. Will and Elizabeth were grumpy with one another and had gone to different parts of the ship. Giselle had swiped the "Junior Patrick" and locked herself in the cabin alone with it. Norrington approached Jack with a grumbling step.
"Thank you for bailing us out of jail. That was very good of you."
"No problem at all Commodore. Just buy me a whiskey and a prostitute when we get to the next harbor."
Norrington rolled his eyes and stalked off to pout in a corner. Jack sighed. All was as it should be.
Merry Christmas, Thannk You, and Happy Birthday Zath Chauvert