Disclaimer: Je n'ai pas PoC, et je deteste toi. Bon jour, mes amis.
"Dude, I can like, so help you clean this dump up." He glanced around the once-fine home that now looked like a disaster area, with dust, books, and tools covering every surface.
"It is not a dump."
Alex just glanced at him disbelievingly. "Ok, dude, just where are we going to eat? Did I mention that I was, like, starving?"
Just then, a large thump, coming from the front door, disturbed a great deal of dust, not to mention the floor. Another thump, then a long cracking sound came, with a shout of –
"Timber…" Will rushed to the doorway to see Jack Sparrow in full gear standing there watching the door, arms held out in the traditional drunk stance. Elizabeth was smiling giddily behind him. "Oh, sorry about the door, mate. I'll get some 'o me lads to fix it up…" Will grimaced.
"No big." The door was shattered on the floor. This was one of the reasons Will disliked Jack. Last time it had been a window, and the time before that it had been a fire that managed to decimate the kitchen. Even though Jack had promised both times to get him or his crew to fix it all up, the only one who ever helped Will at all with these comings was the receptionist who got rather bored sitting at work all day to no avail.
"Dude, you look, like, so cool." Alex entered the melee.
Jack who had looked slightly sorry about the door (mind you, very slightly), immediately mellowed when Alex entered the room, and, impersonating Alex (which just about everyone had a habit of doing), said, "Dude," he swaggered in the flamboyant fashion in which he'd won Elizabeth's heart, "I'm, like, so glad you like it."
The dust had settled, mostly, anyway, and Will didn't know what to do. He already had one uninvited guest, and he didn't have enough crumpets for everyone. In truth, the only food he had in bulk enough to feed everyone was pinto beans.
Sparrow suddenly stood straighter. "Oh, I forget my manners. Martini, anyone?" He held the glass, filled to the brim with a green frothy liquid and some fancy salt lacing the edge of the glass, "No?" without looking to see if anyone had responded, he downed the glass in a gulp.
"Jack…" Elizabeth gave him a warning glance.
"Love, none of them wanted any."
"But Jack, I did." She stood there, looking hurt and pouting.
"Really? Oh, well, love, we can just get you some rum, and it'll be fine… you know…" Jack fidgeted nervously.
"JACK! You know how evil rum is! How could you even suggest such a thing? You remember what I said on that island! I meant it too! I would like," she quieted down, "a martini."
"Well, love, I'm sure young William here has some rum… I mean, martini mix." he glanced pleadingly at Will. "Doesn't he?"
Will shook his head. "Sorry, I only have Chuck Shaw. And pinto beans."
Stroking Elizabeth's hair in a soothing (yet disgusting to any unfortunate soul who happened to look unto this scene) manner, Jack Sparrow whispered stealthily to Will. "What's Chuck Shaw?"
"Charles Shaw. Cheap wine."
"Oh. What are pinto beans?" The whisper was comically loud.
"Uh…"
"Nevermind. It's not relevant." Then, louder, Jack continued to Elizabeth. "But Will has wine, love. It's very nice wine, that's been aged a long time, and I'm sure it would rival any martini ever made."
Will stared at Jack, then shook his head. So be it. William Turner thought he'd never do something like this in his life, but he turned around, and motioned Alex to the parlor, where they had previously been sitting. He would have shut the door in the faces of Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth, but alas, the door was presently out of action, as, Will thought, it deserved to be, considering most doors only went out of action at death. He shouted back at the couple, "The wine's in the cellar," and tapped Alex on the shoulder, who jumped around.
"Want to go somewhere where there isn't enough dust to kill you, and where we can get a bit of privacy?" He couldn't believe he was offering Alex, of all people, this opportunity. Alex nodded understandingly. William thought about how surprising people could be.
For example, Jack Sparrow. He'd thought Jack was a disturbing vagabond who was evil before he got to know him. But that wasn't the best example, as he still though Jack was a disturbing, evil vagabond. Alex, on the other hand, seemed to be an insensitive, yuppie stalker at first, yet Alex, who Will didn't even really know, was the one Will was inviting to lunch.
"Have anywhere in mind?" Alex actually sounded serious.
"Definitely."
Thirty minutes later, William Turner and his fellow, Alex, were sitting at the coffee table in Sparrow's psychology office.
"Would you like a crumpet?" Will held out the pastry that looked like one of those toupees that looked like a small furry animal had just crawled up on the top of your head and died. "It still tastes rather good." Alex glanced at it despairingly, then checked the box for the expiration date.
"Dude, this, like, expired two weeks ago."
Turner swallowed loudly and froze, disgustedly throwing the remainder of the pastry at the receptionist who was cowering under her desk, for some reason. "I was wondering about the little green specks, but they can't have been toxic…?"
"Oh, don't worry, dude, a little mold won't kill you."
"Mold…?" Will felt faint, not for the first time today. "Are you saying that the little green dots – not to mention the blue ones – were mold? Don't answer that." Walking over and picking up the half-eaten crumpet, he shoved it down his gullet, "I vosh 'ungry." He chewed. "Now, you were saying?"
"It was moldy."
"Eeeww…" Turner spat out all the remaining food in his mouth on the floor. "That's gross."
Odd how Alex was now the ultimate authority on everything.
Ignoring Will, Alex turned to the receptionist. "Do you have, like, coffee? We seriously need coffee." He rummaged around the room, and stumbled into the barrels, which held rum.
Needless to say, they fell apart. Considering how long Jack had been away, he'd neglected to reinforce the boards (or hire someone to do it for him), so they'd rotted into a state of decrepti disrepair. The rum became a purple stain on the white carpeted floor.
The receptionist grabbed a teapot in horror and shoved it at Alex. "Here. It's coffee."
"No thank you. I would like some-"
"Don't say it."
"Rum."
"Take the freaking coffee, you bastard! Foutre le comp! C'est ma profession, et tu es bete!" she rambled in French. "Que vous etes des anes!" Luckily, Will nor Alex spoke French.
(Dear reader, I consider this lucky for many reasons. One of them is the fact that our dear, rather polite, receptionist, was screaming f-off to the two men and calling them rather large, rude donkeys if you grasp my meaning. Needless to say, most people do not appreciate being treated this way. Odd how everything sounds so pretty in French.)
"Okay, lady, chill. I'll take coffee." Then, to Will, he whispered through the corner of his mouth. "Something is so wrong with her, dude."
"Yeah, seriously." Will pretended to look a different direction, then muttered back to Alex. "You sure she doesn't have tea? I don't like coffee."
"YOU KNOW, I CAN HEAR EVERY WORD YOU'VE SAID!" She quieted down. "And I wouldn't give you a tea bag for thirty guineas, not to mention a mug or hot water." She sat primly at her desk, her chin up, the caked makeup falling off of her face in chunks.
It was then that Will decided that Alex and he needed to eat elsewhere if they were ever going to eat or have tea at all. Preferably, somewhere with fresh crumpets, and some nice, caffeinated (pardon sp) Earl Grey tea, with a sprig of rosemary, and sugar, and cream. For some reason, Will felt in need of this sort of thing right now, partially because his home was lacking of a front door, and he'd been living off of pinto beans and Charles Shaw wine for the last two weeks, not to mention that fact that Jack Sparrow, and Elizabeth, Will's crush, were probably making out in his cellar over cheap wine.
Author's note: Thank you Fallon for reviewing (lol), and to Mera Sparrow, yes this is to be continued. I am grateful that you find it funny, though this chapter probably was disappointing. Please continue! To be continued! And to Kristi, if you read this: You are in the upcoming chapters. Your name will be Kristi Bergner, and you will be a stalker.