Bootstrap Bill
ETA: Jack muses on Will and Bootstrap Bill.
And he's a little ramble of Jack's thoughts, post-math of the POTC movie.
Will Turner was certainly much stupider than his father, Bootstrap Bill Turner. Jack determined that although Will inherited his father's looks, that was where the similarities ended.
Jack never thought Bootstrap would be the one to marry a silly empty-headed girl for a wife, but Will must've gotten that wretchedly rash and idiotic brain from somewhere, and from having known Bill Turner for a good many years, Jack knew from experience that Bill's mind was a rather sharp and quick thing that never ruined many a good plans that Jack came up with.
And the whelp was paranoid at that. Never a good combination. Paranoia and stupidity, the two main ingredients for failure soup -- something that Jack did not like to be forced to gulp down that often.
Oh, Jack could count past his ten fingers the number of times that Will screwed up a brilliantly mad and daft plan. There was, of course, the embarrassing smack to the head by a rowboat oar, the conspicuously lack of when’s and how’s when concerning the accord between Will and Barbossa, and how could Jack forget? the "aye! avast!" from that pretend to be pirate's mouth.
Jack would have given all of his gold teeth to have Bootstrap back again. Bootstrap would've been able to handle his rowdy and stupid boy with such an ease that Will would be cowering at every fleeting shadow and kissing for apologies Uncle Jack's boots for being such an ungrateful wench.
The boy's obsession with that rum-burning girl was really quite frightful. "Elizabeth goes free," he had squawked like Mr. Cotton's parrot. Well bloody well, the girl did go free, with Jack, onto a rum-filled island. What did Will see in that girl? Sure, she had the wits, much more than Will himself could ever hope to have, but there was a dark streak of evil in her -- like the one that forced her to burn all the bloody, beautiful, sweet, sweet aged-rum on that island.
Because Jack was a practical and compassionate man, he had hoped that Elizabeth would tie her laces straight and marry the Commodore. Even a stupid boy like Will was smart enough to know that having a rum-burning wife was a big no-no on the top ten things a bachelor shouldn't look for in a wife.
And the Commodore, well, he didn't seem to be the kind of man to drink rum, so he would've had no problem handling Elizabeth as a wife. And Elizabeth, being stacks of paper smarter than Will, would eventually get fed up by her husband's stupidity and go on a big, old rum-burning streak through the town of Port Royal. Must've been the mother's mind and the father's indulgence that let that woman turn into such a trouble-causing ravage upon the lands.
If only Bootstrap had stayed single like Jack, then all this would have never happened. Then again, if all this didn't happened, then Jack would still be drifting somewhere in the big ocean on Anamaria's little boat without a lick of hope of getting the Black Pearl back. Cheers to you where you are Bootstrap, for being brilliantly clever at producing a brilliantly stupid child.
And he's a little ramble of Jack's thoughts, post-math of the POTC movie.
Will Turner was certainly much stupider than his father, Bootstrap Bill Turner. Jack determined that although Will inherited his father's looks, that was where the similarities ended.
Jack never thought Bootstrap would be the one to marry a silly empty-headed girl for a wife, but Will must've gotten that wretchedly rash and idiotic brain from somewhere, and from having known Bill Turner for a good many years, Jack knew from experience that Bill's mind was a rather sharp and quick thing that never ruined many a good plans that Jack came up with.
And the whelp was paranoid at that. Never a good combination. Paranoia and stupidity, the two main ingredients for failure soup -- something that Jack did not like to be forced to gulp down that often.
Oh, Jack could count past his ten fingers the number of times that Will screwed up a brilliantly mad and daft plan. There was, of course, the embarrassing smack to the head by a rowboat oar, the conspicuously lack of when’s and how’s when concerning the accord between Will and Barbossa, and how could Jack forget? the "aye! avast!" from that pretend to be pirate's mouth.
Jack would have given all of his gold teeth to have Bootstrap back again. Bootstrap would've been able to handle his rowdy and stupid boy with such an ease that Will would be cowering at every fleeting shadow and kissing for apologies Uncle Jack's boots for being such an ungrateful wench.
The boy's obsession with that rum-burning girl was really quite frightful. "Elizabeth goes free," he had squawked like Mr. Cotton's parrot. Well bloody well, the girl did go free, with Jack, onto a rum-filled island. What did Will see in that girl? Sure, she had the wits, much more than Will himself could ever hope to have, but there was a dark streak of evil in her -- like the one that forced her to burn all the bloody, beautiful, sweet, sweet aged-rum on that island.
Because Jack was a practical and compassionate man, he had hoped that Elizabeth would tie her laces straight and marry the Commodore. Even a stupid boy like Will was smart enough to know that having a rum-burning wife was a big no-no on the top ten things a bachelor shouldn't look for in a wife.
And the Commodore, well, he didn't seem to be the kind of man to drink rum, so he would've had no problem handling Elizabeth as a wife. And Elizabeth, being stacks of paper smarter than Will, would eventually get fed up by her husband's stupidity and go on a big, old rum-burning streak through the town of Port Royal. Must've been the mother's mind and the father's indulgence that let that woman turn into such a trouble-causing ravage upon the lands.
If only Bootstrap had stayed single like Jack, then all this would have never happened. Then again, if all this didn't happened, then Jack would still be drifting somewhere in the big ocean on Anamaria's little boat without a lick of hope of getting the Black Pearl back. Cheers to you where you are Bootstrap, for being brilliantly clever at producing a brilliantly stupid child.