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As Jack wondered the filth-encrusted...oops, I mean,

As Jack wondered the absorbent winding streets, proliferate with atmosphere and colour, he could hear the lovely song of drunks singing out of tune coming from his favourite pub. All most to the door he spots a large man standing in the door way, preventing any one from coming or going. On closer inspection, it would seem the man was too far gone to know what he was doing. Jack asked the man respectfully,

"scuse me mate." as he tried to mussel his way through the door.

Try as he might, the man wouldn't budge. He tried the other side of the man, same results. Okay now, what would you do if you were in Jacks boots? Threaten the man of course!

Whipping out his pistol and holding it near the mans belly, he threatened to shoot him if need be. The man only burped and blinked his glassy eyes, still acting like Jack wasn't even there. Jack was becoming desperate, the sound of rum being poured and pints being served was calling to him like the song of a siren and he wasn't able to join in because of this, let's just say 'big foot'. Jack replaced his pistol since that wasn't working and put a hand on his cutlass. Pointing a finger at the man, he threatened the old pirate slang "cleave 'em through the briskett", unfortunately this didn't work either.

To get his point across, he poked the man. And when he did, the man fell strait backwards, reveling to all those inside who had bested the giant. None other than Captain Jack Sparrow! The pub cheered as every one took another swig, another heroic tall tale to tell the folks around town, half the population of the pub fell on the floor like flys, completely passed out. The tale would have to wait till morning, that is, if they could remember in the morning.

Jack was still standing in the door way unaffected over what just took place inside. He looked down at the man on the floor and then looked at his extended finger shocked over what had occurred. Who knows what goes on in the Captains head as he looks back and forth between his finger and the man on the floor. He bent his finger a couple of times and smirked exclaiming,

"I knew it!"

Walking over the man toward the bar he put his finger down and demanded,

"two pints ov' rum."

The bar tender was young and a little shaken by Jacks definite tone of superiority and did as he was told. Setting the pints on the bar and backing away a little, Jack winked and stalked off to his favourite seat in the corner, finger still extended. After draining his first pint and grabbing the next, some sailors came over to ask if he wanted to join in a game. Jack put his finger down telling them,

"Only if it's played on my table, savvy."

The game went on and on, loud shouts and laughter filled the pub as Jack table was beginning to crawl.

"Last game gents" he now slurred.

The cards were shuffled and dealt. Each player was starting to sweat, the pot was heavy with all sorts of shiny doo-dah's. It was a flush or nothing for the sailors. Every one was down to one card to pull, Jack put his finger on the stack dragging the card across the table to him. One by one you could hear the sound of sailors swallowing hard. Each player set his cards down, Jack being the last.

A hush went over the spectators as he turned over the last card mumbling,

"I know what I want..I know what I want..I know what I want.."

YES! A royal flush in pirates standards. The women cheered as the men took up their drinks and left the table, dragging their wenches behind. Jack began to get a little overly confident with his new found power in his one grimy little finger, he looked at the bar tender and gestured for more rum. With his finger he pointed to a young woman in an overly small red dress to come over. She batted her eyelashes across the room to him as he grinned.

At that moment a figure in a hooded cloak walked in, spying the Captain in the corner making goo-goo eyes at some wench across the room. No one seemed to notice as the figure quietly slipped to the wall where Sparrow was.

"Captain Sparrow I presume?" said the figure putting a knife to Jacks throat and pressing a loaded barrel into his back.

"That would depend on who's asking." said Jack in a calm voice.

Sitting yoga style:

Ahhmmm...you-want-to-review...Ahhmmmm