A very silly fic
This was inspired by discussion of AWE spoilers (and is also a poor effort to cheer those disturbed by them). :-) It's pathetic, I promise you. (You've been warned.) :-)
However, it does NOT contain any spoilers. :-)
Dedicated to all true Naval fans who know that our boys are really off sailing about on the Dauntless, blissfully unaware of these crazy sequels...
Title: An Improbable Interruption
Characters: the Navyboys, the Marines, Governor Swann
Summary: rambling silliness in which poor James cannot manage to finish a single sentence.
Rating: PG for a swear word or two
Disclaimer: Disney owns PotC and its characters, though they ought to be shot for what they do to them.
An Improbable Interruption
Two Marines, a Governor, a Commodore, and two Lieutenants stared in consternation out over the docks of Port Royal, looking rather like a row of curious monkeys peeking from the foliage.
“Who in God’s name is that?” Commodore Norrington demanded.
Next to him, Lieutenant Gilette lowered his spyglass. “I don’t know, sir.” He peered through the glass again. “But that is definitely Sophie.”
Lieutenant Groves pried the glass from Gilette and added his murmur of accord. “Definitely Sophie.”
Norrington’s puzzled frown deepened. “But I’m wear-”
“I didn’t know you was a twin, Commodore.” Murtogg commented genially.
“I’m not-” James began to reply but was cut short by Governor Swann’s gasped exclamation of “Look!”
“Is you a twin also, Excellency?” Giles asked rather more dubiously, as they all watched a man who looked remarkably like the Governor approach the Commodore’s double.
“Of course he’s not-” Norrington started.
“I don’t appear very pleased with you, Commodore.” Swann observed, taking the spyglass from Norrington.
“Pardon?”
Weatherby looked a moment, then said apologetically, “You know I can get rather irritable sometimes wearing this blanket of a wig in the damned heat.”
James nodded sympathetically. “Quite. But-”
“Who is that fellow up on the balcony?” Gilette interrupted, again in possession of a glass. “The short one who’s wig looks like a vexed Shih Tzu.”
“Must be your twin, Andrew.” Groves readily supplied.
Gilette jabbed him in the ribs. “Bastard. Even as as a clod-footed middie I wasn’t as short as that half-pint.” He passed Theo the glass and they chortled together, though Groves could not refrain from teasing, “But you were awfully short.”
Ignoring them, Norrington wondered aloud, “How in the world can there be two of me and two of the Governor-”
“Good Lord!” Mullroy exclaimed. “It’s ourselves!”
Murtogg grabbed the spyglass and his jaw fell slack. “Wot we doing down there?”
With gravely puckered brow, Mullroy mused, “Now I know I’m not a twin, and neither is you, Giles, because wot wit’ us growing up together I would ‘ave know if you ‘ad a twin-”
“And I would ‘ave known if you ‘ad a twin-” Giles continued.
“And if the Commodore and the Gov’ner don’t ‘ave a twin-”
“Leastways not a twin brother, that is, then…” Murtogg trailed off and a look of horror saturated his features.
“Pod people.” Angus finished hoarsely.
The naval officers and the Governor all turned and stared at the Marines with uncomprehending incredulity.
“What??” Norrington and Swann chimed.
“Oh look, there’s me!” Groves grinned, having obtained the Commodore’s spyglass. “The handsome one standing on the far dock.”
Gilette snorted. “Idling about working on your tan, no doubt.”
“Well I’ve yet to see you about doing anything useful.” Theo retorted. “I’ll wager you’re off conducting your duty at Seamus Flaherty’s tavern.”
“Few better places to accrue resources and gather pertinent information.” Andrew returned coolly.
James rolled his eyes. “Lieutenants, would you-”
“What is it that you find so appealing about that abominable brown sludge from Ireland?” Groves asked.
Gilette paled with indignation. “How dare you-”
“I’m sure it’s much better fresh.” Norrington interjected firmly in a hasty effort to pacify Andrew. “Now-”
“Prove it.” Theo challenged Andrew devilishly.
“Let’s sail to Ireland and I will!” Gilette growled.
“Are you buying?” Groves pressed.
“Of course.” was the haughty reply.
“Deal!” The two shook hands vigorously.
James sighed. “Now who decided we are sailing to-”
“Lots of French smugglers along the coast, sir.” Andrew offered brightly.
“I’ve no doubt, but-”
“Your Excellency!” Groves leant excitedly around Gilette and Norrington to address Swann. “We’re sailing for Ireland - now you’ll be glad you’ve got that wig to warm your head!”
The Governor’s face lit up. “Is that so, Commodore?”
“Leprechauns.” Mullroy whispered knowingly to Murtogg, whose eyebrows rose with interest.
“Well, I-no-I mean-what about-” James surveyed the five eager faces, gestured ineffectively at the chaos in the harbour below, then threw up his hands in exasperation. “Yes! Back to the Dauntless!”
“Cold weather!” Weatherby exulted, plunging zealously into the dense vegetation in the decidedly wrong direction.
“Free beer!” Groves cried, clapping the Marines on the back.
“Guinness!” Gilette crowed ecstatically, hurrying to retrieve the errant Governor.
“French brandy…” Norrington mumbled longingly, and trudged after the rest.
However, it does NOT contain any spoilers. :-)
Dedicated to all true Naval fans who know that our boys are really off sailing about on the Dauntless, blissfully unaware of these crazy sequels...
Title: An Improbable Interruption
Characters: the Navyboys, the Marines, Governor Swann
Summary: rambling silliness in which poor James cannot manage to finish a single sentence.
Rating: PG for a swear word or two
Disclaimer: Disney owns PotC and its characters, though they ought to be shot for what they do to them.
An Improbable Interruption
Two Marines, a Governor, a Commodore, and two Lieutenants stared in consternation out over the docks of Port Royal, looking rather like a row of curious monkeys peeking from the foliage.
“Who in God’s name is that?” Commodore Norrington demanded.
Next to him, Lieutenant Gilette lowered his spyglass. “I don’t know, sir.” He peered through the glass again. “But that is definitely Sophie.”
Lieutenant Groves pried the glass from Gilette and added his murmur of accord. “Definitely Sophie.”
Norrington’s puzzled frown deepened. “But I’m wear-”
“I didn’t know you was a twin, Commodore.” Murtogg commented genially.
“I’m not-” James began to reply but was cut short by Governor Swann’s gasped exclamation of “Look!”
“Is you a twin also, Excellency?” Giles asked rather more dubiously, as they all watched a man who looked remarkably like the Governor approach the Commodore’s double.
“Of course he’s not-” Norrington started.
“I don’t appear very pleased with you, Commodore.” Swann observed, taking the spyglass from Norrington.
“Pardon?”
Weatherby looked a moment, then said apologetically, “You know I can get rather irritable sometimes wearing this blanket of a wig in the damned heat.”
James nodded sympathetically. “Quite. But-”
“Who is that fellow up on the balcony?” Gilette interrupted, again in possession of a glass. “The short one who’s wig looks like a vexed Shih Tzu.”
“Must be your twin, Andrew.” Groves readily supplied.
Gilette jabbed him in the ribs. “Bastard. Even as as a clod-footed middie I wasn’t as short as that half-pint.” He passed Theo the glass and they chortled together, though Groves could not refrain from teasing, “But you were awfully short.”
Ignoring them, Norrington wondered aloud, “How in the world can there be two of me and two of the Governor-”
“Good Lord!” Mullroy exclaimed. “It’s ourselves!”
Murtogg grabbed the spyglass and his jaw fell slack. “Wot we doing down there?”
With gravely puckered brow, Mullroy mused, “Now I know I’m not a twin, and neither is you, Giles, because wot wit’ us growing up together I would ‘ave know if you ‘ad a twin-”
“And I would ‘ave known if you ‘ad a twin-” Giles continued.
“And if the Commodore and the Gov’ner don’t ‘ave a twin-”
“Leastways not a twin brother, that is, then…” Murtogg trailed off and a look of horror saturated his features.
“Pod people.” Angus finished hoarsely.
The naval officers and the Governor all turned and stared at the Marines with uncomprehending incredulity.
“What??” Norrington and Swann chimed.
“Oh look, there’s me!” Groves grinned, having obtained the Commodore’s spyglass. “The handsome one standing on the far dock.”
Gilette snorted. “Idling about working on your tan, no doubt.”
“Well I’ve yet to see you about doing anything useful.” Theo retorted. “I’ll wager you’re off conducting your duty at Seamus Flaherty’s tavern.”
“Few better places to accrue resources and gather pertinent information.” Andrew returned coolly.
James rolled his eyes. “Lieutenants, would you-”
“What is it that you find so appealing about that abominable brown sludge from Ireland?” Groves asked.
Gilette paled with indignation. “How dare you-”
“I’m sure it’s much better fresh.” Norrington interjected firmly in a hasty effort to pacify Andrew. “Now-”
“Prove it.” Theo challenged Andrew devilishly.
“Let’s sail to Ireland and I will!” Gilette growled.
“Are you buying?” Groves pressed.
“Of course.” was the haughty reply.
“Deal!” The two shook hands vigorously.
James sighed. “Now who decided we are sailing to-”
“Lots of French smugglers along the coast, sir.” Andrew offered brightly.
“I’ve no doubt, but-”
“Your Excellency!” Groves leant excitedly around Gilette and Norrington to address Swann. “We’re sailing for Ireland - now you’ll be glad you’ve got that wig to warm your head!”
The Governor’s face lit up. “Is that so, Commodore?”
“Leprechauns.” Mullroy whispered knowingly to Murtogg, whose eyebrows rose with interest.
“Well, I-no-I mean-what about-” James surveyed the five eager faces, gestured ineffectively at the chaos in the harbour below, then threw up his hands in exasperation. “Yes! Back to the Dauntless!”
“Cold weather!” Weatherby exulted, plunging zealously into the dense vegetation in the decidedly wrong direction.
“Free beer!” Groves cried, clapping the Marines on the back.
“Guinness!” Gilette crowed ecstatically, hurrying to retrieve the errant Governor.
“French brandy…” Norrington mumbled longingly, and trudged after the rest.