Stoopid Skeletimz
"Ha! W-wut kinda captain iz u?!" George said, stammering on his words. He was trying to be brave. It wasn't really working. Jolly Roger grabbed the door on his rusty jail cell and ripped it off as if he were tearing paper from a note-pad. He grabbed George around the throat with his bony hand, and lifted him up and stared into his eyes. The two were face-to-face.
"Excuse me?" Jolly asked.
"EWW. Tic-tac? U haz bad breathz." George complained, straining to keep his nose away from the source of the smell. Jolly Roger tightened his grip.
"Because of who I am, I have not eaten in ages." He whispered into George's ear. He dropped him and kicked him in the ribs. The two guard skeletons dragged George, who was gasping for air, back into his cell. They didn't bother put the door back on. They were sure George learned his lesson.
"Does anyone else care to hear WHY I'm such a horrible beast?!? HUH?!" Jolly was furious. He grabbed one of the guards and smashed it's skull on the wall. rotten bone shards flew everywhere. The headless undead stumbled around aimlessly. Almost as aimlessly as drunk old Brandy. ALMOST.
As Roger slammed the door to the brig, George was hyperventilating while trying to get air into his lungs. Everything went black.
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When George awoke, the cells were empty. There was still that one guard skeleton. He saw George wake up.
"Stand up you fool!" He commanded. He had a strong French accent. George, still slightly groggy, followed instructions, for once. He waddled forward before the French guy grabbed his elbow and guided him forward.
"Uh.... yo French ded guy. Wus ur name?" George questioned him. The skeleton gave him a weird look.
"Tim. Now no more questions!" George took note of how much shorter Tim was.
"I'm gonna call u Skeletim, cuz u iz undead, and u iz named Tim."
"I said no more!"
"U say no more questionz. Dat was no question....." George said. WAIT WAIT WAIT. George made someone ELSE look like an idiot?! Dang, I gotta get my hands on some of this idiotic logic.
Tim shoved him. He was pretty strong for being about four and a half feet tall. After George tasted the floor, he decided it would be good not to say things like that again. Tim continued to guide him. The eventually came to some deck level. The rest of the crew were cleaning port holes. Brandy, who had a bandage wrapped around his forehead, was still drunk as could be. Instead of cleaning the port hole, he was scrubbing the wall right next to it. Banana poked him with her elbow and whispered something. Brandy stopped for a moment. He then proceeded to wash the other side of the wall. Banana shook her head and finished off her small window.
George walked over, picked up a sponge, dipped it in the semi-clean water, and started scrubbing the window that Brandy failed to cleanse. George looked around. Everyone had messy hair and dirty, tattered clothes.
"PSST! George!" Banana whispered, urgently.
"Wut.....?" George asked, extending the length of his speech.
"We need to get off this boat NOW."
"But Tim over dere," he said, pointing to the shorty, "won't even letz meh talk n stuf. An we no haz Anton, so we gunna phail if we try."
"Jolly didn't let Anton out of his bottle. He knew that he could take down half of his crew if he did. So he's up in the Captain's Quarters."
"Well dat iz sucky."
"Yea, so now we're stuck down here watching Brandy wash the same wall for hours, and Britney poke at the spot where his leg used to be."
"Oh ya, dat gotta be inconvenient." George said this a little louder then he meant to.
"HEY! SHUT UP!" Tim yelled at the two. They turned back to the port holes and scrubbed.
"Stoopid Skeletimz...." George muttered to himself.
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WOOT. New chapter
Sorry for the delay ._______. ANYWHO, I apologize if it wasn't as funny :/ Trying to get more story in :P