A/N: Another week flew by! I haven't been making as much progress on this story as I would like... :( I feel kinda guilty about not having anything new for my beta to review in so long, but the meh, hopefully once the next two chapters are typed up, the story will start moving along a bit more smoothly.

Please enjoy! This chapter doesn't have much plot to it, but I like it 'cause it amuses me :)

Chapter Nine

Fun Times

"Welcome one and all to the drinking contest of the year!" Spaz announced to the tavern filled with unconscious pirates. "Here we have our island's very own Potter Harry who co-holds the record for most sake drank in a night in this very tavern challenging the legendary Yonkou, Shanks, captain of the Red-Hair pirates! Who will kiss the floor first this morning? Stay tuned to find out!"

"You going to do that the whole time, Spaz?" Harry asked with an apprehensive expression.

"Yes sirree, contestant Harry, you betcha!" came the reply, Spaz bouncing on the counter with an upside-down sake bottle in his hand acting as a microphone.

"First mate of the Red-Haired pirates will be pouring shots of sake for our players until someone forfeits, loses consciousness, or throws up – ew! The stakes? Harry has bet his strange teacup which remains inexplicably full and intact despite how it's handled in return for Shanks' offer of weekly spars with his crew members! Who will be leaving the tavern today with more than just an upset stomach and killer headache? Let's beeeegiiinnnn!"

"And the first shot is knocked back with ease! Beckman refills each glass to the brim. Both contestants eye each other with calculating glances, what could they be thinking?"

"By some unspoken agreement the second shot is downed and Beckman refills."

"And again, the third shot gone. Neither contestant is showing signs of being affected by what they've just ingested. Now might be a good time to mention that before starting, each contestant drank a third of a barrel of beer. Before that, Shanks actually drank five bottles of sake and half a barrel of beer on his own, a ridiculous amount to have drank yet still try to compete, though he does have more body mass than his opponent and it has been scientifically proven that people with larger bodies can handle more liquor. The fourth and fifth shot are gone, and still no signs of who may win!"

"What's this? Shanks is laughing! Shall we listen in?"

"Dahahaha, you're doing pretty good Kid, but maybe you should slow down a bit. Youngsters like you are useless onboard ship when sick 'cause they overestimate themselves at a bar."

"Ha, speak for yourself, old man. Don't think you can take on everybody with that five bottle disadvantage!"

"Hey now, I ain't old! I'm not even thirty yet, you know, just turned twenty six!"

"If you can call a twenty-one year old a kid, then I can call a twenty-six year old an old man, yeah?"

"A strange conversation to be sure, but during its course, another two shots were knocked back and neither seem anywhere near ready to give up! Could it be possible that the bartender will have to be the one to throw in the towel when he runs out of sake?"

"No worries about that, Boy!" Shanks called over. "I've been coming to this island yearly for three years now. He knows to stock plenty of sake come this time of year, eh?" Shanks faced the bartender, who grinned as he raised up four more bottles as proof for the accuracy of Shanks' claim.

"So, Mr. I'm-twenty-one, feeling the buzz yet?"

"Ha, don't you worry, Mr. I'm-not-old, buzz or not I'm not falling out this soon!"

"And the game continues! Another shot is knocked back! And another! And another! The speed is amazing! As soon as Beckman tops off the second glass our contestants chug them down without hesitation. This is binge drinking at its finest. I honestly can't tell who has the best chance to win!"

Beckman topped off the presented shot glasses with practiced ease as Harry and Shanks tear through each glass with vigor.

"Oh, what's this? It seems they're slowing down! Yes, it's true, they have lost speed! Shanks' eyes are just a bit glazed over and Harry fumbled his empty glass. Could the end be near? The shots are still being knocked back. Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six – "

"No! It can't be! Yes, its true! Shanks has just dropped his head down onto the table! Could this be the end? Is it possible that Harry has just won?"

"Oi, Shanks, get back up ya bastard. I haven't even started cheatin' yet, ya know, i-ij-idiot!"

"Harry's trying to provoke a reaction it seems and swings his hand to smack his oppon – oh dear! His hand has gone right through Shanks' head! He's now immaterial and can no longer continue drinking! What does this mean for our contest?"

Harry frowned at the hand that revealed his now immaterial state and blinked a bit in confusion, before blearily turning back to look at Shanks who still had his head on the table.

"Never mind 'bout that. You jus' stay down there, yeah?" He leaned back only to fall through his stool with a curse, not thinking clearly enough to sit on it. In his ghost state, sitting on chairs rather than going through them was a mind-over-matter task that his mind was currently not feeling up to. "So," Harry started, looking up at Spaz and Beckman from his position on the floor. "Who won?"

"Um…I guess that's kinda hard to say, ya know, 'cause technically Shanks conked out first but then you went all ghostly and didn't drink any more so you both are still at the same number of shots and I dunno what people do in these kinda situations since usually the one still conscious wins 'cause he drinks one more glass but you kinda can't and – "

"Harry wins this time," interrupted Beckman. "I'm sure Captain would agree, so I think Harry can consider it his victory. You might want to be careful from now on, though. Captain may decide to have more of these idiotic contests in the future now that he knows how well you hold your liquor."

"Dutifully noted Beckman," Harry nodded solemnly, eyes wide and unfocused. "Do you think the crew would mind if I slept on the floor with them?"

"Well," Beckman replied with a smile, "I would imagine that they'd have to get used to the idea soon enough, anyway. You might as well."

"Brill. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Keep Spaz company for me, will ya?" And with that, Harry laid down and fell asleep.

Spaz looked down at Harry and then looked over to Beckman who was wearing a bemused expression on his face as he walked around the tavern rousing his fellow crew members.

"I'll help!" Between Beckman's authority and Spaz's endless chatter, a good portion of the crew got up blearily in the first half hour, most of them holding their heads suffering from hangovers, staring confusedly at Spaz who was bouncing from table to table, mouth going a mile a minute as he asked Beckman questions like about his favorite weapon, and food, and color, and, and, his favorite fairytale princess?

"Hey," said Spaz brightly as he turned to the bewildered pirates. "Wanna hear a ghost story while Beckman tries to wake up your captain?"

Without waiting for an answer, Spaz jumped from the counter he was perched on to one of the middle tables and before any of the pirates could wonder why their captain was unconscious in the first place, started his tale.

"This is a tale of not so long ago of a merchant ship and its captain and crew who sailed the waters of West Blue, not far from this very island. The captain was a skilled sailor and a good man of friendly features, his black hair always ruffled by the winds and his green eyes sparkled in the sun. For a few years, he and his crew sailed peacefully as merchants, and had easy passing days though not a significant amount of money. One day, a rookie joined, and not long after, the merchant ship fell on hard times. As profits dropped, the captain was forced to cut back on food and water carried aboard as well as each sailor's salary. At first, the crew was understanding, but the new member was discontent and began speculating in the sleeping quarters reasons why the captain was to blame for their sad state. It began with accusations of incompetence in reading the market, and then it progressed to wondering whether or not the captain was stealing money from their profits for his own use and blaming the loss on bad sale rates. As the ship grew poorer and poorer, it wasn't long before even the black color of the captain's hair was a symbol of his evil, and his green eyes a manifestation of his greed. When the captain stopped joining the crew for meals, the rookie cried out that it must be because the captain was eating a luxurious meal alone in his quarters. At this image, the crew's anger boiled over. A mutiny exploded and the captain was captured, then tied up high to the mast of the ship and given no food or water. For days the captain could only ask 'Why?' and shake his head with confusion at the accusations he could barely hear from the members of his former crew. He soon lost the energy to do even that, remaining silent as the sun and rain pounded on him mercilessly, the rest of the men ignoring him as they abandoned their merchant ways to become pirates, captained by the very rookie who revealed just how villainous their former captain was. As pirates, the men pillaged on passing ships that were captained by men who were friendly with the former captain and believed the ship to be safe. Greed and ruthlessness was encouraged by their new captain, and none felt the slightest bit of compassion for the man tied to the mast, only spitting in his face when they passed him to raise or take in the sails. Finally, after three days of only sun and no rain, the former captain broke his silence and pleaded, "Please, some water." The crew laughed. Water? They thought. Oh how the mighty have fallen. To think that just a few weeks ago this man was stealing gold and feasting in secret, only to now beg for water! Cruelly, the pirate captain tied a leather skin filled with water and dangled it just out of reach of the suffering man tied to the mast. It was not long before he died of thirst and hunger. That very evening, a wild storm came and tormented the ship. The pirate captain had never experienced such a thing, being relatively new to the sea and was helpless to direct his crew in escaping the torrential rain, high waves, and lightening strikes. The crew members dashed around, remembering how their former captain, so skilled was he, that he always easily led them to calmer seas. Without his guiding voice, they were disorderly and only managed to hinder each other. A final bolt of lightening struck the mast, and as the ship sank, the last thing the crew saw was the illuminated corpse of the captain they had murdered."

By this point in Spaz's story, all the crew members were wide awake and listening intently.

"Pieces of the ship were found a fortnight later, washed up on the beach of this island, but though the mast was eventually found and the corpses of all the crew members washed onto the shore, the body of the former captain was never discovered. Some say his ghost still haunts the seas to this day and when he meets a pirate crew, he cannot help but remember his suffering, and pleads with bloodshot, green eyes, asking only for a drink of water that he can never touch or drink, for he is no longer among the living."

"Arg," came a groan from behind a table, "anybody got a glass of water?" Harry asked, staggering to his feet, his black hair ruffled and green eyes red from all the drinking he did not long ago.

"Sure," Spaz chirped, bounding over and offering a glass.

"Thanks," Harry said, only for his hand to go straight through the proffered drink. "Damn, guess not, huh?" He glanced up and finally noticed the pirates who were no longer all lying around unconscious.

"Hey, so I see the pirate crew is up, er," Harry cocked his head to the side in confusion. "You guys alright?"

The pirates were all pale to varying degrees, some looking like they wanted nothing more than to back away though clearly too proud to act on such impulses.

"Pff…"

Harry sharply glared at Spaz who was trying but failing to hide his mirth.

"Spaz, why do I have a feeling you're to blame for this?"

"Ghahahahaha, ghaha, aha, ghahahahaha!" Spaz burst into laughter, clutching his side with one hand and supporting himself on a table with the other. "Their faces, ghahaha, are so pale! Ghaha, ahahahaha, to think, ghahaha, that pirates would be so scared by a ghost story!"

"To be fair," Beckman cut in, as Spaz couldn't form long enough sentences yet to explain any more than that, "you did purposely tell a story that Harry ended up playing out."

Harry glared at the both of them. He was woken up early from his nap because he was thirsty, and now not only could he not drink any water because he was still immaterial, Spaz had somehow managed during the time he was asleep make almost every pirate on Shanks' crew afraid of him with a ghost story.

"Someone explain," Harry ground out, "now."

A/N: So there you have it! Still present tense, but I'll be switching back to past tense next chapter unless anyone reviews with a vehement disapproval of the idea. I'll probably rewrite this chapter and the last two in past tense over winter break...

A/N2: Yep, past tense now, finally :)

Again, I would like to point out that I've never drunk before, so please don't use this chapter as a reference for how much you can drink before passing out. Chances are, you'll die first.

What else...

Did you like the ghost story?

96 reviews as of today, November 22, 2010!

And not a single flame, either :)

Thanks everyone!

Edited

12/27/10