A/N:::::squeals with happiness: Moosk, you reviewed! Wow, I do believe that's, what, the second review I've ever gotten from you? I'm honored! SenshiAlchemist, thanks for reviewing again. Elvin BlueEyes, thank you for your review! I love you guys :tear:
Now, on to the next chapter!
Itches
The Black Pearl, just after sunrise…
Captain Jack Sparrow was laying fast asleep on his hammock, dreaming about (what else?) rum. A blissful smile played across his dirty and hairy face.
"Jack!… Jack!…" The bottles of rum were now calling to him. He reached out his arms, wanting to clasp the bottles to his chest. His hands hit something soft and…
SMACK!
He was slapped across the face.
"Aaaaggggghhhh!" he screeched, falling out of his bed… er, hammock. He landed beside a pair of shiny, black-booted feet and a pair of dirty, brown-booted feet. Slowly, he looked up the brown boots to brown breeches and a white shirt into the face of the owner of the clothes. Sadly, the livid-with-rage face belonged to Anamaria. The black boots belonged to a smirking Darla.
With a groan, Jack hauled himself to his feet. "What?"
"Land-ho, captain." Anamaria spat, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Jack grimaced. "Right. Ready the boats."
Anamaria glared at him and, with a turn of her booted heel, stormed out of the room. Now it was Jack's turn to glare, this time at the small girl that was rummaging through his chest.
"Darla, what do you think your doing?" The girl turned around, a bundle of clothes in her arms.
"I was trying to find you some clean clothes, O scruffy captain of mine. However, I appear to be failing dismally." She smiled innocently at the irritated man sitting like a child on the floor. He grimaced at the fact that it was indeed true. He had no clean clothes on account of the fact that he hadn't done laundry in about a month.
Darla, however, looked magnificent in her brown cotton breeches and emerald green silk shirt. Her hazel eyes showed more green than brown, matching her outfit. Once again, her untidy hair was pulled back into a messy bun.
Does she ever have a wrinkle? And where does she get all of her bloody clothes from? Jack shook his head. It was too early to be contemplating the mystery of Darla.
Suddenly, a somewhat-clean white shirt and a pair of (also somewhat-clean) breeches were thrust into his line of sight.
"Put these on." Darla commanded. Glaring at the young minion that dared to interrupt his thought process, he hauled himself off the floor and grabbed the clothes. Then he practically shoved the girl out of his room.
"Hey! That's not fair!" she protested loudly. The crew looked up and saw the two of them. Jack turned a deep red and let go of Darla.
"Stay out of my rooms!" he whispered hotly to her. She smirked and walked over to Anamaria. She whispered something and both women burst into mad cackles.
Jack sighed and went back into his room to change into the clothes that Darla had laid out for him.
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Ilsa de Stinky Feet, one week later…
"Tell me again, why did it take us a week to get to a piece of land a mile away?" Jack asked Mr. Cottons' parrot as he scratched his leg.
"Anchor ho! SQWACK!" Mr. Cottons' parrot replied. Jack narrowed his eyes at the bird and scratched his elbow.
"Are you being pert with me!" Jack asked, outraged at the nerve of the bird, scratching his back.
"Wind in your sails! SQWACK!"
Jack screamed in frustration and stormed off, close to tears. He was sober, itchy, and tired. Mostly, he just wanted his rum. And for the itching to stop… WHY WOULDN'T THE ITCHING STOP!
He walked past a smirking Darla and Anamaria, scratching. Suddenly, he couldn't take it any more. "AGH! Why won't the itching stop!" Jack screamed. Darla and Anamaria could no longer hold in their giggles and burst into hysterical laughter. Jack turned to glare at them.
"This is your doing?" The girls laughter was answer enough for Jack. Suddenly, he got an itch in a place that he couldn't scratch. This only made the girls laugh harder as they watched him try to scratch the un-scratchable itch.
"What's the matter, captain? Do I give you an itch you can't scratch?" Darla said once she had caught her breath, causing Jack to glare at her, which, naturally, made her start laughing again.
"More like a itch that I would just love to throw overboard." Jack snarled back, causing the girls to laugh even harder (if that was possible, as they were already on the ground, weak-kneed from laughing).
"It'll stop itching once you take a bath and put on some clean clothes," Mr. Gibbs told him. Jack turned his glare to the older man.
"Everyone's thinking it, I'm just saying." Mr. Gibbs shrugged and went to help the little short dude with something.
"My whole crew is against me!" Jack muttered, throwing up his hands and storming to his room.
