(no subject)
title:...and a Bottle of Rum
author: berriest_eri
genre: comedy
rating: PG
notes: this is the last chapter that's finished, which means it's time for me to get writing again, if y'all want to read more.
Chapter One: Every Fucking Store in Orlando
Chapter Two: I Don't Have a Blowtorch
Chapter Three: All The Good Pirate Names Were Taken
Chapter Four - I ffeem to hff falln imto th trnk!
"Look!" Chris exclaimed, his eyes never leaving the TV. Justin followed his gaze to the enormous televison screen, filled with blindingly fast images and frenetic music. A throbbing bass beat hammered steadily behind the annoucer's words as he raved on about how this was the only place anyone cool needed to go to be seen, or some drivel like that. Justin wasn't really listening to that. He was captivated, instead, by the brightly flashing words on the television screen. 'The Corsair Club'.
"Arr, rival gang?" suggested Justin, watching images of swarthy looking men dancing with scantily clad women. "They don't look like much," he commented, turning to Chris. But Chris's attention was already elsewhere.
"Arrr... what be there fer a pirate to do for fun in this town?" He gestured vaguely at the TV. "There they be, carousin' with their wenches, and we be sittin' alone like a pair o' dock rats. There must be some fun to be had, for a couple o' studly types like ourselves."
"The Corsair Club," The TV interrupted again, "where real rebels go for fun." A last shot of a distictly unsavoury looking man was replaced by a roll of toilet paper with a face, as the next commercial started. Justin was still blinking at this bizzarre face when he was nearly bowled over by Chris, tearing past him and into the hallway.
"ARR!" Chris bellowed. "We be enjoying ourselves yet tonight! Ready me ship, Smee!"
"Uh... Cap'n-" Justin began, "We haven't got-"
"No... if we be takin me ship, the entire Crew will want to come along", Chris reconsidered. "We'll just have to get there another way."
"A limo, Cap'n." Justin volunteered, "After all, be we not famous pirates?"
"Blast! That we are! Call us a limo, Smee, we be goin' out in style tonight!"
When the limo arrived, Justin came wobbling down the driveway, as fast as he could manage with the slight limp he'd acquired from his encounter with the wall. Chris came along behind him with what he percieved as being a very pirately swagger, and climbed into the back of the limo with his first mate. Justin sat there for a moment getting comfortable, while the chauffeur waited patiently for him to name a destination.
Finally, Justin drew a deep breath, and the chauffeur's ears perked up expectantly. "AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR!!" Justin bellowed, clearly enjoying it. The chauffeur jumped, but did his best to maintain his composure. "To the Corsair club, Swabby!"
"Um, actually, my name is Oswald, sir." The chauffeur said meekly, pulling away from the curb. He'd heard of eccentric celebrities, but this seemed to be taking the stereotype just a little too far.
Fifteen minutes later, it was quiet inside the car. Oswald tried not to get too used to it, as he was sure it wouldn't last for very-
"Faster, ye lily-livered dog! Ye can't be goin' more than 20 knots!" hollered Chris, gesturing wildly with the ever-present bottle of rum.
"But, I'm already at 30 miles an hour, Mister Kirkpatr-"
"It be Captain Kirkpatrick to ye, boy!"
"...uh, C-Captain Kirkpatrick", the chauffeur confirmed hesitantly, "I'm travelling at the speed limit already."
"I said faster! That be a direct order, Helmsman!" Chris gave the man his best wicked-pirate look.
"I can't sir, my job depends on my driving record."
Chris slumped back in his seat, muttering something about mutiny, and had another long pull from the bottle. Justin leaned forward. "Bring her over to port, matey. Just in here, he pointed, indicating an Amaco Station.
Happy to have been given an instruction he could follow, Oswald promptly pulled in and stopped.
"Might ye fetch me coat?" inquired Justin rather politely. "It's in the hold."
Oswald, now becoming strangely accustomed to the two popstars referring to the limo as if it were a ship, popped the trunk and got out.
Inside the service station, an attendant named Julie put down her magazine with a sigh, and scowled at the limo. She was already unhappy with her crappy job as the full service attendant at the Amaco, and wasn't pleased with having her reading interrupted by some stuck up high school kid in a limo, on his way to prom or something. Halfway to the limo, she saw the chauffeur step out and head towards the back of the limo.
"God!" she muttered. "Don't you assholes ever read?!" It happened all the time. People pulled into the full service lane, thinking it was another self serve, forcing Julie to get up, walk out to the car and inform the driver that this was full serve. Then they would just brush her off and pull over to the next pump. It was starting to get on her nerves.
But the chauffeur passed the gas tank and opened the trunk, instead. Less annoyed, Julie continued again towards the limo, but stopped again as the back door opened She nearly let out a scream as she recognized Justin Timberlake climbing out or the car. She knew every contour of his face, from years of reading teen magazines, and recognized him instantly. She was only briefly puzzled by the newspaper hat on his head.
Julie watched as Justin crept towards the chauffeur, whose head was buried in the trunk, rummaging around. She stared with her mouth open, as Justin crouched, wrapped his arms around the mans legs and lifted him up. He pushed the man into the trunk, nearly folded in half, then slammed the trunk closed and flashed a bright, conspiratorial grin at Julie.
Chris watched the girl's wide eyes as she stared at the back of the limo. Suddenly, he heard a 'thunk' from behind him, and as he turned to investigate, he saw Justin striding off towards the service station. Justin passed the girl, who gazed after him with a look that Chris and Justin knew very well, and she followed after him - looking as if she might faint at any moment.
"Mffr. Krkpffrk?... Cp'n Krkpffrk?" Chris heard a muffled voice coming from behind his seat. "Cd yuo Hlp Me ffr? I ffeem to hff falln imto th trnk!"
Chris laughed heartily. "Count yerself lucky ye ain't being made to walk the plank, ye scurvy rat! Perhaps a night in the brig will make ye rethink this sort of mutiny!" Punctuating the remark with a thump on the seat, Chris took another swig, just as Justin returned and leapt into the drivers seat.
"Now we be gettin there with some speed, Cap'n!" he crowed.
"Full ahead, Matey! To the Corasir Club!" Chris hollered back.
And to a cacophony or "Arrr"'s, Justin hit the gas.
Julie had watched as Justin leapt into the seat formerly occupied by the chauffuer, and stared after the limo as it peeled out of the lot, leaving two black streaks on the tarmac. She was still wearing the stupid grin she'd had on ever since Justin had given her that wink as he had passed her. After they were out of sight, she thought back to the bizzarre purchase that the celebrity had made. She'd expected a twinkie, or a candy bar, or even a box of Apple Jacks from the store's meagre grocery aisle (because she had read enough about him to know that was his very favorite cereal), but was rather surprised when the only thing he brought back to the counter was a little mesh bag of chocolate "coins" wrapped in gold foil. And he'd kept referring to them as "loot". It was weird, but what a story it would make to tell all of her friends!
While Julie was still thinking dreamily about Justin, he had forgotten about her entirely, focused on his driving. After all, he was used to sleek, sporty cars. He'd never driven anything quite this large before, and it took some concentration.
"Arr, Mister Smee, slow down thar."
Justin let his foot off the accelerator. "What is it, Cap'n?"
"D'ye see that, up there?" He pointed outside of the car, and upwards, towards a towering billboard.
Justin read it aloud. "Captain Morgan. Who be this Captain Morgan?" By this point, they were too drunk - and too Piratey - to remember much outside of their own day-to-day lives.
"I reckon I don't know, Mister Smee, but I believe we should be findin' out. We don't need another Cap'n in these parts! These waters ain't big enough for two."
"D'ye suppose we'd be finding him at the Corsair Club?"
"Aye! That's good thinking, Mister Smee."
Justin scowled, reminded again that he was the one who should have been Captain. It was obvious! Look at the good idea he'd just had, after all!
"Onward to the Corsair Club!" called Chris.
Justin wiped the scowl off his face and pressed his foot to the accelerator. After all, there was nothing to be done about it now.
author: berriest_eri
genre: comedy
rating: PG
notes: this is the last chapter that's finished, which means it's time for me to get writing again, if y'all want to read more.
Chapter One: Every Fucking Store in Orlando
Chapter Two: I Don't Have a Blowtorch
Chapter Three: All The Good Pirate Names Were Taken
Chapter Four - I ffeem to hff falln imto th trnk!
"Look!" Chris exclaimed, his eyes never leaving the TV. Justin followed his gaze to the enormous televison screen, filled with blindingly fast images and frenetic music. A throbbing bass beat hammered steadily behind the annoucer's words as he raved on about how this was the only place anyone cool needed to go to be seen, or some drivel like that. Justin wasn't really listening to that. He was captivated, instead, by the brightly flashing words on the television screen. 'The Corsair Club'.
"Arr, rival gang?" suggested Justin, watching images of swarthy looking men dancing with scantily clad women. "They don't look like much," he commented, turning to Chris. But Chris's attention was already elsewhere.
"Arrr... what be there fer a pirate to do for fun in this town?" He gestured vaguely at the TV. "There they be, carousin' with their wenches, and we be sittin' alone like a pair o' dock rats. There must be some fun to be had, for a couple o' studly types like ourselves."
"The Corsair Club," The TV interrupted again, "where real rebels go for fun." A last shot of a distictly unsavoury looking man was replaced by a roll of toilet paper with a face, as the next commercial started. Justin was still blinking at this bizzarre face when he was nearly bowled over by Chris, tearing past him and into the hallway.
"ARR!" Chris bellowed. "We be enjoying ourselves yet tonight! Ready me ship, Smee!"
"Uh... Cap'n-" Justin began, "We haven't got-"
"No... if we be takin me ship, the entire Crew will want to come along", Chris reconsidered. "We'll just have to get there another way."
"A limo, Cap'n." Justin volunteered, "After all, be we not famous pirates?"
"Blast! That we are! Call us a limo, Smee, we be goin' out in style tonight!"
When the limo arrived, Justin came wobbling down the driveway, as fast as he could manage with the slight limp he'd acquired from his encounter with the wall. Chris came along behind him with what he percieved as being a very pirately swagger, and climbed into the back of the limo with his first mate. Justin sat there for a moment getting comfortable, while the chauffeur waited patiently for him to name a destination.
Finally, Justin drew a deep breath, and the chauffeur's ears perked up expectantly. "AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR!!" Justin bellowed, clearly enjoying it. The chauffeur jumped, but did his best to maintain his composure. "To the Corsair club, Swabby!"
"Um, actually, my name is Oswald, sir." The chauffeur said meekly, pulling away from the curb. He'd heard of eccentric celebrities, but this seemed to be taking the stereotype just a little too far.
Fifteen minutes later, it was quiet inside the car. Oswald tried not to get too used to it, as he was sure it wouldn't last for very-
"Faster, ye lily-livered dog! Ye can't be goin' more than 20 knots!" hollered Chris, gesturing wildly with the ever-present bottle of rum.
"But, I'm already at 30 miles an hour, Mister Kirkpatr-"
"It be Captain Kirkpatrick to ye, boy!"
"...uh, C-Captain Kirkpatrick", the chauffeur confirmed hesitantly, "I'm travelling at the speed limit already."
"I said faster! That be a direct order, Helmsman!" Chris gave the man his best wicked-pirate look.
"I can't sir, my job depends on my driving record."
Chris slumped back in his seat, muttering something about mutiny, and had another long pull from the bottle. Justin leaned forward. "Bring her over to port, matey. Just in here, he pointed, indicating an Amaco Station.
Happy to have been given an instruction he could follow, Oswald promptly pulled in and stopped.
"Might ye fetch me coat?" inquired Justin rather politely. "It's in the hold."
Oswald, now becoming strangely accustomed to the two popstars referring to the limo as if it were a ship, popped the trunk and got out.
Inside the service station, an attendant named Julie put down her magazine with a sigh, and scowled at the limo. She was already unhappy with her crappy job as the full service attendant at the Amaco, and wasn't pleased with having her reading interrupted by some stuck up high school kid in a limo, on his way to prom or something. Halfway to the limo, she saw the chauffeur step out and head towards the back of the limo.
"God!" she muttered. "Don't you assholes ever read?!" It happened all the time. People pulled into the full service lane, thinking it was another self serve, forcing Julie to get up, walk out to the car and inform the driver that this was full serve. Then they would just brush her off and pull over to the next pump. It was starting to get on her nerves.
But the chauffeur passed the gas tank and opened the trunk, instead. Less annoyed, Julie continued again towards the limo, but stopped again as the back door opened She nearly let out a scream as she recognized Justin Timberlake climbing out or the car. She knew every contour of his face, from years of reading teen magazines, and recognized him instantly. She was only briefly puzzled by the newspaper hat on his head.
Julie watched as Justin crept towards the chauffeur, whose head was buried in the trunk, rummaging around. She stared with her mouth open, as Justin crouched, wrapped his arms around the mans legs and lifted him up. He pushed the man into the trunk, nearly folded in half, then slammed the trunk closed and flashed a bright, conspiratorial grin at Julie.
Chris watched the girl's wide eyes as she stared at the back of the limo. Suddenly, he heard a 'thunk' from behind him, and as he turned to investigate, he saw Justin striding off towards the service station. Justin passed the girl, who gazed after him with a look that Chris and Justin knew very well, and she followed after him - looking as if she might faint at any moment.
"Mffr. Krkpffrk?... Cp'n Krkpffrk?" Chris heard a muffled voice coming from behind his seat. "Cd yuo Hlp Me ffr? I ffeem to hff falln imto th trnk!"
Chris laughed heartily. "Count yerself lucky ye ain't being made to walk the plank, ye scurvy rat! Perhaps a night in the brig will make ye rethink this sort of mutiny!" Punctuating the remark with a thump on the seat, Chris took another swig, just as Justin returned and leapt into the drivers seat.
"Now we be gettin there with some speed, Cap'n!" he crowed.
"Full ahead, Matey! To the Corasir Club!" Chris hollered back.
And to a cacophony or "Arrr"'s, Justin hit the gas.
Julie had watched as Justin leapt into the seat formerly occupied by the chauffuer, and stared after the limo as it peeled out of the lot, leaving two black streaks on the tarmac. She was still wearing the stupid grin she'd had on ever since Justin had given her that wink as he had passed her. After they were out of sight, she thought back to the bizzarre purchase that the celebrity had made. She'd expected a twinkie, or a candy bar, or even a box of Apple Jacks from the store's meagre grocery aisle (because she had read enough about him to know that was his very favorite cereal), but was rather surprised when the only thing he brought back to the counter was a little mesh bag of chocolate "coins" wrapped in gold foil. And he'd kept referring to them as "loot". It was weird, but what a story it would make to tell all of her friends!
While Julie was still thinking dreamily about Justin, he had forgotten about her entirely, focused on his driving. After all, he was used to sleek, sporty cars. He'd never driven anything quite this large before, and it took some concentration.
"Arr, Mister Smee, slow down thar."
Justin let his foot off the accelerator. "What is it, Cap'n?"
"D'ye see that, up there?" He pointed outside of the car, and upwards, towards a towering billboard.
Justin read it aloud. "Captain Morgan. Who be this Captain Morgan?" By this point, they were too drunk - and too Piratey - to remember much outside of their own day-to-day lives.
"I reckon I don't know, Mister Smee, but I believe we should be findin' out. We don't need another Cap'n in these parts! These waters ain't big enough for two."
"D'ye suppose we'd be finding him at the Corsair Club?"
"Aye! That's good thinking, Mister Smee."
Justin scowled, reminded again that he was the one who should have been Captain. It was obvious! Look at the good idea he'd just had, after all!
"Onward to the Corsair Club!" called Chris.
Justin wiped the scowl off his face and pressed his foot to the accelerator. After all, there was nothing to be done about it now.