Jack and the Genie

[Rosie Gamgee]

This is a bit of something I wrote a while ago. It's based on the film Pirates of the Caribbean; The Curse of the Black Pearl- a fan fiction. The idea of Jack Sparrow meeting a genie who could give him three wishes amused me, so I wrote a little story about it.
Note: It's written as if Jack Sparrow is telling it, and its has a huge amount of misspellings on that account. Just sound the stuff out if you can't make it out. Do your best Jack Sparrow impression.

Title: A Short Story Concerning Jack and the Genie

Author: Rosie Gamgee

Rating: PG (a teensy bit of language)

Genre: Comedy

Summary: A short story in three parts in which Captain Jack Sparrow finds himself on a deserted island and encounters a genie who offers him three wishes.

Part One
In Which Jack Meets the Genie

There I found myself, all by me onesies on an empty spit of land in the middle of the ocean- again. Not really that dismal, all in all, except for one thing- no rum. At least none I could find, an' believe me, I scoured every inch of that little island.

But one thing I did find, while I was scouring. A little oil lamp, made of solid gold. Old habits die hard, even in the face of starvation and almost certain death. Anyways, it certainly didn't do me any good- couldn't eat it, couldn't drink it, couldn't even light it- bloody thing was empty.

So there I was, sitting all by me onesies again. I had my effects- an' my hat- an' I would have put me boots in the sun t' dry, but it was night-time, savvy? So, there was me, wif no good light, no fire, and no rum. Honestly, it wasn't bad except for the 'no rum' part. I spent the time studying me new treasure in the moonlight.

It was a little lamp, kind of shaped like a squashed tea-kettle wif a little handle on one side an' a little spout on the other. Nice little cover on it, too, still intact. It had no dents on it, an' was pretty much seamless in the making. All in all a very nice bit of shine.

Of course, then I noticed the smudge. Big, conspicuous smudge right across the side of it. Now, about this smudge; I think they put it there on purpose. Honestly- whoever makes these bloody lamps must put this smudge on 'em on purpose, just t' make ye rub at it. So me, being just as easy a mark as the next fellow, went an' rubbed the at the bloody smudge.

No doubt you know whot happened next. Little trail of green smoke starts spurting out 'f the spout, an' suddenly there's this short, ugly chump frownin' at me, like I'm supposed to know whot to do.

I gave the look right back t' 'im, 'cause I certainly didn't ask 'im t' show up. Still, he didn't say anything- 'n fact, 'is ugly little face never changed at all. Looked like some bloody statue- not speaking, not moving. Finally I made myself blink a few times, thinkin' maybe I was seein' things.

Despite all me blinking, the ugly midget wouldn't go away. Looked at me a mite funny though, an' I decided maybe I wasn't seeing' things.

"All righ'," says I finally. "Whot d' you wont?"

"Me?!" he shrieks, like I insulted 'im or somethin'.

"Yeah," I says, an' returned 'is little glare, "you. Y' see this?" I waved me hand generously, indicating the little strip of beach. He didn't say anthing, an' so I plowed on: "This is my space, savvy? an' I don't wont t' be disturbed. So take your frowning face somewhere else."

"I can't," he tells me, still frowning. "You rubbed the lamp." He stuck one of 'is stubby green fingers in me face.

I frowned back, an' plucked the lamp up from the sand where I dropped it when the grotesque little fellow showed up. So that's 'is game, I think. Must've seen me pick up the little lamp an' wonted it for 'imself. Well, no way I'm letting 'im take whot's rightfully mine. "Now, now, now," I tells 'im; "'finders keepers'. I found it, it's mine, savvy?"

I watched 'is reaction carefully, but it's not whot I expected. He came as close t' rolling 'is eyes as possible under that hideous frown. "You don't get it, do you?" he asks me, pullin 'is finger back an' out of me face.

I frowned at 'im again, but this time a mite puzzled. "Get whot?"

"LOOK AT ME!" the midget shrieked, an' I winced at the noise. "What am I?!"

I looked 'im over. Ugly an' short came t' mind. I supposed he might get upset if I mentioned either of them- but, he asked.

I went for the lesser of the two evils an' offer, "Really short, mate." I topped the statement off wif me best grin, just t' sof'en the blow.

He stared at me for a second, an' for once he stopped frowning. I hoped he wouldn't go int' shock or anything. Must be a real let-down to discover you're so short.

Then 'is face contorted again an' he blusters, "No! I'm a genie! Y'know, rub the lamp and make a wish?!"

Pulling down me eyebrows, I blinked. "A whot?"

He threw 'is little hand int' the air, screeching a noisy sigh. "Does everything have to be spelled out for you?!" Coming closer, he starts slappin' the fingers on 'is left wif 'is right forefinger. "Look," -slap- "you rub the lamp," -slap- "you make a wish," -slap- ".... savvy?!"

I stared at 'im, lettin' that sink in. "Make a wish?" I repeat. "Like whot?"
He got that disgusted look people get righ' before walking away from me- come t' think of it, wenches get that look righ' before slapping me. He didn't do either, however; just bursted out shriekin' again. "Whatever you want! Anything! You want to see the world from the top of Mount Everest? You want to win the lottery? You want to save the rainforests- or maybe the whales?!- Just say the word, it's done!"

I frowned. "Where's Mount Everest?"

"Oh!" he yelled, obviously exaspirated. "I'm not here to give geography lessons- unless you wish for them!"

I marveled that so much irritation could be contained in such a little bloke. Then I pulled me eyebrows down again in thought. "Y'mean, I wish for somethin' a' ye give it t' me?" I asked tentatively.

"Oh, my goodness," the midget says t' the sky, an' I get the feelin' he's bein' sarcastic. "You mean there is intelligent life on this planet?!"

(CONT...)