Chris's Childhood as the Dread Pirate Roberts
Title: Dread Pirate Roberts
'Verse: The Effect
Rating: none
Author's Note: Just something stupid and random and sort of funny I thought I'd write. Chris was one weird little kid.
He had gotten the plastic sword for his birthday. As for the name, he'd taken it from a movie his mother had been watching. She hadn't liked the movie very much. Chris had watched every second of it, utterly fascinated.
When he went to school the next day, he hung the sword from his belt. No one noticed. At recess, he pulled it out and waved it around in the air.
"I am the Dread Pirate Roberts!" he cried, attracting the attention of his classmates. They watched him. "I am the greatest swordsman in history!" And here he slashed his sword from left to right. "I beat the giant in hand to hand combat! And... ummm. I beat the bald guy too!" He hadn't quite followed the movie at that part, or what was so spectacular about the Dread Pirate Robert's beating the bald guy.
"What bald guy?" one child asked, frowning.
"Never mind," Chris sighed, as though he were too slow to understand. "Who wants to join my ship and become a pirate like me?"
Some of the kids automatically raised their hands, eager to do anything as exciting as pirating. Some others questioned the game.
"What will we do?" one boy asked.
Chris grinned. "Steal the loot!" He waved his sword again. "Are you with me?!"
He was sent home that day. The teacher's note complained of Chris leading a group of children into her classroom in order to steal crayons. His parents made him return the crayons, and apologize to the teacher. Chris refused, on the grounds of, "pirates don't never say sorry!" He was grounded for the weekend. But that didn't stop Chris. Pirates couldn't be bound to land, you see. He climbed out of his window and biked off into the horizon, his plastic sword looped to his belt once more.
When he returned home, with an ice cream cone he hadn't paid for, his parents sent him to his room without dinner. Chris cried in a very non-pirate-like way.
But that doesn't mean he gave up his pirate fantasies. If anything, he became more determined to be a pirate. He started begging his parents for a parrot. He tried tying a broom handle to his leg, pretending it was a wooden leg, and held onto a hanger so he had a hook for a hand. Clearly, at this point, it wasn't only the Dread Pirate Roberts he was modeling from, but all pirates ranging from Captain Hook to Long John Silver. He just liked the Dread Pirate Roberts the best.
When he refused to answer to anything but 'Dread Pirate Roberts' or 'Captain', his parents began attending conferences with the teacher, principal, and school guidance counselor. His father insisted it was just children's fun, but his mother was certain it was schizophrenia. They arranged a time for Chris to meet with the guidance counselor, so that he could be analyzed.
"So, Christopher. It's nice to meet you, I'm--"
"My name isn't Christopher! I'm the Dread Pirate Roberts. You can call me Captain." Chris plunked himself down in a chair, his plastic sword in his lap. They'd tried to confiscate it from him. He stole it back.
"The man called the Dread Pirate Roberts is a character in a movie I believe you watched with your mother, is that correct?"
"What's your name?" he asked abruptly.
The man blinked slowly. "Mr. Connelly."
Chris frowned. He couldn't think of anyone with that name. "But if you shared that name with someone in a movie, what would that mean?"
Mr. Connelly sighed. "That isn't the same, Chris. Dread Pirate Roberts isn't common enough for that logic to hold." But he marvelled briefly that Chris even thought to argue that. The boy was mutinous, and refused to answer, so the guidance counselor continued. "What makes you want to be a pirate?"
"No one wants to be a pirate. We have no other choice." Chris nodded seriously.
"Why do you say that?"
"It's a hard life, being a pirate! Our lives are always on the line. Any moment you can get stabbed in the back by your crew!" Chris flashed his sword about.
"You're a child, Chris. You are not a pirate. You don't have to be worried about being stabbed."
Chris wouldn't respond.
"Do your parents treat you well?"
"Pirates don't have parents."
Mr. Connelly wrote that down. "I see..."
"What are you writing?"
"Notes."
"Why?"
"It helps me guide my thoughts."
"Thoughts about me?"
"Yes."
"I don't want you to write notes."
"Why not?"
"I don't trust you. A pirate trusts nobody!"
"Pirates trust their guidance counselors."
"Pirates don't have guidance counselors, you liar!" Chris stood up and pointed his sword at him. "MUTINY!" he yelled.
"Christopher! Settle down!" Mr. Connelly shouted as Chris thrashed his sword around to knock over stacks of papers on the man's desk. "Stop that! Chris!"
"MUTINYYYYY!" Chris flung open the door to the office and tore off down the hall. He slapped his sword on the doors to the classrooms, still crying the word, though he had little idea of what it actually meant. He only knew that people behaved badly when they decided to mutiny.
He was suspended from the school for three days. His parents were very displeased. More conferences were held, and he was sent to a professional psychiatrist to analyze his behavior. Should he be sent to Catholic school? Boot camp? A mental institution?
It was finally determined that he had an overactive imagination, and they allowed it to take its course. When Chris began wearing an eye patch around, his mother simply bit her lip and said nothing. Although, when he continued to steal, he was punished quickly. He often slid his top mattress off his bed to form a sort of slide, and roll down it into the "ocean" below (his carpet), where he would fight the sharks with his sword, and climb back onto his ship.
An entire month went by before he finally lost interest in being a pirate. It was so sudden and unexpected, his teachers were actually asking him "Dread Pirate Roberts, where is your sword today?"
Chris would look at them blankly, and ask, "Who are you talking to?"
His new goal was to be a magician. He was now "The Great Bambini."
'Verse: The Effect
Rating: none
Author's Note: Just something stupid and random and sort of funny I thought I'd write. Chris was one weird little kid.
He had gotten the plastic sword for his birthday. As for the name, he'd taken it from a movie his mother had been watching. She hadn't liked the movie very much. Chris had watched every second of it, utterly fascinated.
When he went to school the next day, he hung the sword from his belt. No one noticed. At recess, he pulled it out and waved it around in the air.
"I am the Dread Pirate Roberts!" he cried, attracting the attention of his classmates. They watched him. "I am the greatest swordsman in history!" And here he slashed his sword from left to right. "I beat the giant in hand to hand combat! And... ummm. I beat the bald guy too!" He hadn't quite followed the movie at that part, or what was so spectacular about the Dread Pirate Robert's beating the bald guy.
"What bald guy?" one child asked, frowning.
"Never mind," Chris sighed, as though he were too slow to understand. "Who wants to join my ship and become a pirate like me?"
Some of the kids automatically raised their hands, eager to do anything as exciting as pirating. Some others questioned the game.
"What will we do?" one boy asked.
Chris grinned. "Steal the loot!" He waved his sword again. "Are you with me?!"
He was sent home that day. The teacher's note complained of Chris leading a group of children into her classroom in order to steal crayons. His parents made him return the crayons, and apologize to the teacher. Chris refused, on the grounds of, "pirates don't never say sorry!" He was grounded for the weekend. But that didn't stop Chris. Pirates couldn't be bound to land, you see. He climbed out of his window and biked off into the horizon, his plastic sword looped to his belt once more.
When he returned home, with an ice cream cone he hadn't paid for, his parents sent him to his room without dinner. Chris cried in a very non-pirate-like way.
But that doesn't mean he gave up his pirate fantasies. If anything, he became more determined to be a pirate. He started begging his parents for a parrot. He tried tying a broom handle to his leg, pretending it was a wooden leg, and held onto a hanger so he had a hook for a hand. Clearly, at this point, it wasn't only the Dread Pirate Roberts he was modeling from, but all pirates ranging from Captain Hook to Long John Silver. He just liked the Dread Pirate Roberts the best.
When he refused to answer to anything but 'Dread Pirate Roberts' or 'Captain', his parents began attending conferences with the teacher, principal, and school guidance counselor. His father insisted it was just children's fun, but his mother was certain it was schizophrenia. They arranged a time for Chris to meet with the guidance counselor, so that he could be analyzed.
"So, Christopher. It's nice to meet you, I'm--"
"My name isn't Christopher! I'm the Dread Pirate Roberts. You can call me Captain." Chris plunked himself down in a chair, his plastic sword in his lap. They'd tried to confiscate it from him. He stole it back.
"The man called the Dread Pirate Roberts is a character in a movie I believe you watched with your mother, is that correct?"
"What's your name?" he asked abruptly.
The man blinked slowly. "Mr. Connelly."
Chris frowned. He couldn't think of anyone with that name. "But if you shared that name with someone in a movie, what would that mean?"
Mr. Connelly sighed. "That isn't the same, Chris. Dread Pirate Roberts isn't common enough for that logic to hold." But he marvelled briefly that Chris even thought to argue that. The boy was mutinous, and refused to answer, so the guidance counselor continued. "What makes you want to be a pirate?"
"No one wants to be a pirate. We have no other choice." Chris nodded seriously.
"Why do you say that?"
"It's a hard life, being a pirate! Our lives are always on the line. Any moment you can get stabbed in the back by your crew!" Chris flashed his sword about.
"You're a child, Chris. You are not a pirate. You don't have to be worried about being stabbed."
Chris wouldn't respond.
"Do your parents treat you well?"
"Pirates don't have parents."
Mr. Connelly wrote that down. "I see..."
"What are you writing?"
"Notes."
"Why?"
"It helps me guide my thoughts."
"Thoughts about me?"
"Yes."
"I don't want you to write notes."
"Why not?"
"I don't trust you. A pirate trusts nobody!"
"Pirates trust their guidance counselors."
"Pirates don't have guidance counselors, you liar!" Chris stood up and pointed his sword at him. "MUTINY!" he yelled.
"Christopher! Settle down!" Mr. Connelly shouted as Chris thrashed his sword around to knock over stacks of papers on the man's desk. "Stop that! Chris!"
"MUTINYYYYY!" Chris flung open the door to the office and tore off down the hall. He slapped his sword on the doors to the classrooms, still crying the word, though he had little idea of what it actually meant. He only knew that people behaved badly when they decided to mutiny.
He was suspended from the school for three days. His parents were very displeased. More conferences were held, and he was sent to a professional psychiatrist to analyze his behavior. Should he be sent to Catholic school? Boot camp? A mental institution?
It was finally determined that he had an overactive imagination, and they allowed it to take its course. When Chris began wearing an eye patch around, his mother simply bit her lip and said nothing. Although, when he continued to steal, he was punished quickly. He often slid his top mattress off his bed to form a sort of slide, and roll down it into the "ocean" below (his carpet), where he would fight the sharks with his sword, and climb back onto his ship.
An entire month went by before he finally lost interest in being a pirate. It was so sudden and unexpected, his teachers were actually asking him "Dread Pirate Roberts, where is your sword today?"
Chris would look at them blankly, and ask, "Who are you talking to?"
His new goal was to be a magician. He was now "The Great Bambini."