Chapter Twelve - Road Trip Of Trouble
Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney.
Burger wrappers, boxes, straws and other take-out related rubbish found its way to the floor of the car, intensifying the mess that was previously there. Unable to hold it in, Carl belched loudly and laughed hysterically.
"Did ya hear that one, Bobby?" Carl managed to say between bouts of laughter, nudging the driver beside him.
Bobby rolled his eyes. "Quit it, stupid."
"I woulda got in the World Records with that one."
Carl rummaged through his Happy Meal and retrieved his kiddie-sized fries. Bobby couldn't help but chuckle at how pathetic he looked.
"Ya know, Bobster, this really does work," Carl commented.
"What?" Bobby's patience was wearing thin.
As if it was the most obvious answer, Carl replied, "The Happy Meal. It's makin' me happy."
Handfuls of fries were shoved unceremoniously into his mouth. Carl paused, a half-eaten chip in his grubby fingers as an odd thought occurred to him.
"I 'unno why Depp ain't eatin' it," Carl wondered.
"Yeah, well, tough. We ain't givin' him special treatment. If he thinks he's too good for the goddamn Happy Meal, that's his problem."
"Can I scoff his then?"
"Whatever, fat-ass," mumbled Bobby.
Like an eager kid on Christmas morning, Carl leaned over and reached for Jack's would-be lunch which sat untouched beside the pirate in the backseat.
"I think he's sick, Bobby," Carl added as he pulled the package of food into the front. Before Jack had a chance to protest, an unidentified flying object hit him squarely in the head, catching him by surprise.
"Oi!" Jack yelled, picking up the culprit from the leather seat where it landed.
"Thought you might like the toy," Carl said, his mouth full of hamburger.
Jack Sparrow eyed the small hand-painted figurine in his calloused hand, turning it upside down, left and right, peering at it from every possible way. He then glared at the plastic face, the beady eyes in particular. For some reason, those eyes unnerved Jack. It could only mean one thing - he needed rum.
"I'm not feeling very good about this," Jack said, not looking up from the object in his hand.
"About what?" Bobby sighed as he watched the pirate in the rear-view mirror.
"'Tis William Turner," Jack held up the little figurine. "…Regrettably not as I remember him."
"So you wanna sue McDonalds over a stupid little toy? No one gives a shit if it don't look like the real deal!" Bobby snapped.
Jack's brow furrowed. Ah, Sue McDonalds, eh? Where may she be? According to Jack, females appeared to be scarce in this mysterious location.
"What's up with him, Bob?" Carl whispered, before shoving another handful of salty fries into his mouth.
"Hell knows."
Bobby swerved the car dangerously down an off-ramp exit. They had been on the road for what seemed the longest two hours of his life; The car reeked, Carl and Depp pissed him off, and his conscience was getting the better of him. They had to flee the crime scene - and fast.
There was no doubt the disappearance of the Pirates of the Caribbean megastar was indeed a big deal. Bobby could almost see the headlines, the tabloids, the media frenzies. And at the peak of their criminal careers, Carl and Bobby's mug-shots would make it famously onto America's Most Wanted.
The car screeched to a halt outside the public toilets.
"What are we doin'?" asked Carl.
"Takin' a piss. Watch that idiot," Bobby instructed before disappearing into a cubicle.
The two men sat in silence while Bobby went about his business. Bored out of his wits, Jack attempted to start up some intelligent, theoretical, life-changing conversation.
"Ye wouldn't happen to have any rum, would ye?"
"Nope," Carl answered.
"Bugger." Well that was very un-conversational, Jack thought.
Suddenly a high-pitched continuous beeping sound shrilled throughout the car.
Jack covered his ears. "What in the bloody hell is that?"
"Bobby robbin' the urinal. I 'unno," Carl shrugged.
"That--"
Jack's sentence was cut off as the car began to shake violently. Carl clung to the edge of his seat waiting for the moment to pass while Jack enjoyed the ride. It was brief and stopped almost as soon as it had started. Trying to calm his nerves and failing, beads of sweat dripped down Carl's horrified face.
"I-I think that was an earthquake, y'know, shakin' the earth," Carl stammered.
"I doubt it. It's most likely cannon fire, mate," Jack said surely. He looked out the window and stared at his surroundings. No sign of smoke, fire, soot, gunmen - anything of the sort in fact. He then added, "Expertly hidden cannon fire at that."
Tinny speakers attempted to produce the sound of a random radio station with bad reception. The non-stop static crackled and hissed, cutting through the announcer's voice. It was completely pointless to listen to - and there were many more miles to go.
Not standing it anymore, Bobby angrily reached for the dial, accidentally breaking it off from the cheap car stereo. Broken piece in his hand, Bobby threw the knob to the floor, making a slight thud as it landed beside the accelerator. Carl laughed, unable to control himself. Completely enraged, Bobby slammed his fist into the stereo, shutting it up once and for all. Two birds hit with one stone, he thought as Carl shut up too.
"I was listening to that, Bobby," Carl said sheepishly.
"You can't hear a goddamn thing!" Bobby yelled, "It was pissin' me the hell off!"
"I wanna know 'bout the shake on the news," explained Carl. He missed that stereo dearly.
"What shake?" Bobby asked, dumbfounded.
"The earth rumbled when you was doin' your business," Carl began, twiddling his thumbs.
"Ha ha, Carl. Funny," was Bobby's sarcastic reply. "Shut your stupid trap."
Jack rested his elbow on the back of Carl's seat in order to engage himself in the conversation. Being closer to the commotion could often lead to being involved in said commotion, Jack logically figured. He rapidly tapped Bobby's shoulder annoyingly, forcing the attention onto himself.
"Ye know, such a vibration did in fact occur, mate," Jack stated, still tapping.
Bobby shot an evil glare at the meddlesome tapping hand.
"You know what? I ain't putting up with your shit no more," said Bobby, about to retrieve the gun from the glove-box.
Carl protested, "But he's telling the truth."
"Yeah? Well, why'd he gotta shine the gayest lights through the window while I was takin' a piss, eh? I always knew he was likin' the rainbows."
"Horizons," corrected Jack, motioning his hand to the sky.
Taking a while to sink in, Carl's jaw finally dropped. "They got a disco ball in there, Bobby?"
"You're a dumb-ass, Carl."
Bobby glared expectedly at the pirate for some sort of explanation. Colourful swirling lights did not just randomly shine through windows, from yellow to orange, pink to purple and back again, basking you in a romantic ambience while you urinated in the public, scungy, men's toilets. How the hell did the pirate get a hold of Christmas lights?
Jack remained silent with a confused expression on his face. He knew for a fact he did no such thing. Sadly, he could even recall this whole sober day - no foggy patches in his memory whatsoever. Something desperately needed to be done about that.
There was a moment's pause before Jack answered. "There's no rum."
"So wha--"
Clonk, clonk, clonk.
A knocking upon metal sounded throughout, seemingly coming from the trunk.
Without any warning, Bobby instantly slammed on the brakes and quickly got out of the car. Carl followed after Bobby, both men setting out to investigate the strange noises.
Jack peered out the back window. Bugger, he couldn't see anything. The open trunk bonnet blocking his view, Jack could only hope they wouldn't discover the stolen goods he'd managed to come by.
"I cannot let you do this," said a familiar male voice from somewhere outside the vehicle. Jack listened intently.
"Bobby, we're in enough trouble already," Carl said nervously as Bobby cocked his gun.
"For Pete's sake!" Bobby yelled.
As if caught with his hand in a cookie jar, Jack quickly righted himself on the backseat hiding all evidence of eavesdropping. Luckily it went unnoticed as Bobby violently threw open the door and shoved in a second unwanted passenger at gunpoint. He muttered a few swear words under his breath before shutting them in.
"Jack? Am I glad to see you!" exclaimed Will, looking worse for wear. He rubbed at his arm which felt bruised as a result of Bobby's tight grip.
Jack grinned. "Ye know, I've been wondering when you might show up, lad."