WFWF Halloween Celebrity Deathmatch II: Bad Form

[Markw]

WFWF Halloween Celebrity Deathmatch II – Bad Form

Tick, Tock.

Tick, Tock.

Tick, Tock.

Tick, Tock.

Tick, Tock.

Tick, Tock.

Captain Hook: “Smee! Smee!”

A blood curling cry comes from the deck, grabbing my battered hat and my monocular, I leapt out of the cabin. My eyes instantly drawn to the source of the commotion.

And what a sorry sight it is. It breaks your heart to see such an honourable man, a great captain, cowering in fear against the mast of his own ship. His hand covering one ear, while his hook scrapes down the other side of his face. His body shaking. His legs convulsing uncontrollably.

His mind, tortured, by the beast that lurks in the ocean.

It's become an all too frequent sight on the Jolly Roger.

That crocodile torments him day and night. Sometimes it's gnashing it's teeth at the base of the ship, waiting to get another taste. Waiting, to tear him limb from limb.

Most of the time it's just there, in his head. That ringing always in his ears, always messing with the poor captain's head.

The crew of course never talk of it, they'd be shot dead on the spot if they mentioned it. If they let on that they knew about the captains insecurities.

But they all know.

They all see him cowering in the darkness, whelping and screaming.

They all see the scars down his face, the results of him clawing at his ear with his own hook, just to stop the ringing. To stop the clock.

I don't know what it is that torments him to that degree. Maybe it serves as a reminder of the moment he lost his hand. Maybe he's afraid that the crocodile is determined to finish the job.

I think he just can't stand being followed by time.

I think that crocodile serves as a constant reminder that his days are numbered, like all of us.

You can see how that'd mess with your head.

Captain Hook: “Smee! Smee!”

The blood curdling cry came again. You'd have heard it on the land. You'd have heard it at the bottom of ocean. There was no escaping that terrible cry.

Mister Smee: “There, there captain. It's alright. Nothing's going to happen to you on your own ship.”

I did my best to console him, but I knew it wouldn't make any difference. I could at least pull his hook away from his face, and limit the damage he was doing to himself. But there was no saving him from the ticking in his head.

Captain Hook: “I can't take it Smee, I can't take it. The ringing Smee, the ringing.”

He pleaded with me, but there was nothing I could do.

Captain Hook: “Stop the ringing Smee, stop the ringing.”

I fired a few bullets blindly into the darkness of the ocean. I knew I wouldn't hit the crocodile, I'm not convinced there was a crocodile to hit. But he needed to see me do something, to try and save him from the ringing of the crocodile.

Mister Smee: “Don't worry Captain. We'll kill the cro... you'll kill the crocodile. You'll kill Peter Pan. It's going to be alright.”

Captain Hook: “And then what Smee? I'll still be trapped in this blasted boat, with these peasants and their 'bilge-sucking' and their 'splice the mainbrace' nonsense. All while I have to keep up the 'Ahoy me hearties' pretence. I'm an educated man Smee, I'm a poet, I don't belong with these scoundrels, this pond life.”

That break down, believe it or not, was actually a good sign. He'd stopped screaming about the ringing, and that was usually a good sign.

Mister Smee: “You're an educator captain. These men need you, they need your genius, your insight, you're the only person who can make anything of these crooks and fiends. No one else is capable of doing what you do captain.”

He composed himself, moving his hand and hook, away from his face.

Captain Hook: “I suppose that is true.”

He replied modestly. It works every time.

Captain Hook: “After all, who else could have made something of these men? Who else could have got as much out of these worthless excuses for human beings, as I have?”

Mister Smee: “Exactly Sir.”

Captain Hook: “Who else could have turned you into a competent sound board?”

Ugh... right.

Mister Smee: “Too right, Sir.”

Captain Hook: “Who else could catch that loathsome Pan and get revenge for him chopping off my hand? Who else could take on that gigantic crocodile and win? Who else could rule the seven seas, quite literally, single handed?”

In a moment, his melancholy moans had turned into a passionate rant. His enthusiasm reignited. His determination to find a kill the scoundrel who chopped of his hand had returned. The real Captain Hook was back, and that was bad news for Peter Pan and his Lost Boys.

---

“Oh, a pirate's life is a wonderful life
A-rovin' over the sea
Give me a career as a Buccaneer
It's the life of a pirate for me
Oh, the life of a pirate for me!

Oh, a pirate's life is a wonderful life
They never bury you're bones
For when it's all over a jolly sea rover
Drops in on his friend, Davey Jones
Oh, his very good friend, Davey Jones!”

I awoke to the jolly roars of the drunken crew. They stated early on the Jolly Roger, and they didn't stop.

The ship was always a frenzy of activity in the morning, rum flying everywhere, boisterous signing from every member of the crew only occasionally interrupted by a random gunshot. The captain of course didn't involve himself in these antics, he was far too dignified for that. So it was left to me to ensure the morale of the men remained high, as the Captain plotted his revenge in the cabin.

It was for all intents and purposes, your average day on the Jolly Roger. Until the prisoners arrived.

There was a commotion on deck, at the side of the ship. As two lifeless bodies were flung overboard. Followed by a couple of snarling pirates. The men instantly identified them as Lost Boys, two of Peter Pan's band of mindless children. It looked to me, from a distance, as if the two boys were 'Curly' and 'Nibs'.

My suspicions were confirmed as I drew closer, and that inevitably meant that it wouldn't be long until Peter Pan was jumping to their rescue. We had to deal with them quickly.

Mister Smee: “What have we got here lads?”

Miscellaneous Pirate #1: “We caught these weevil eating rapscallions lurking by the rocks sir.”

Miscellaneous Pirate #2: “They're Pans'”

Miscellaneous Pirate #3: “Hoist 'em over the yardarm!”

Mister Smee: “That's very helpful.”

Miscellaneous Pirate #4: “Yer doom be at 'and boys”

They all got very excited when prisoners arrived.

Mister Smee: “Calm down. We'll do what ever the captain decides.”

Just as I finished my sentence, the great captain Hook arrived, striking fear in the eyes of the two lonely lost boys.

Miscellaneous Pirate #5: “They had these with 'em sirs.”

Miscellaneous Pirate #5 handed me a series of mundane items, a sling shot, box of crayons, and various other childish items.

Miscellaneous Pirate #6: “And this.”

'This' was a much more interesting object. A sort of strange rectangle, with a brighter rectangle inside. What it was, I had no idea.

Captain Hook: “Smee, what is this contraption?”

Mister Smee: “I... I have no idea Sir.”

Nibs: “It's an IPad.”

The lost boy informed us. Usually, his speaking without spoken too would have resulted in at best a beating from the captain, at worst a bullet in the head. But we were all far too absorbed in the small screen to discipline the rude child.

Curly: “Pwess the button.”

Captain Hook: “I beg your pardon?”

The captain doesn't take too well to 'Pwess' or similar childish expressions.

Nibs: “Press the button.”

I did as the child instructed, and to the amazement of the crew, people started moving inside the rectangle.



BANG!

Gunshot. The bullet went right between my hands, straight through the rectangle. It sort of... fizzed, and I instinctively dropped it to the floor. My hands shaking as the captain let shouted forcefully, just seconds after firing his gun.

Captain Hook: “BAD FORM!”

The captain clearly wasn't amused by the antics on the screen.

Captain Hook: “Men set up the plank, these 'Lost Boys', spies for Peter Pan, need to be punished for this filth.”

He motioned to the dead rectangle.

It did seem a little cruel to me. But the captain made the right decision. He's not a bad man really, he didn't want to hurt the children. He just couldn't afford too look weak in front of his men.

So the children hugged each other, inched towards the edge of the plank, forced to by the enthusiastic cutlasses of the men, and...

SPLASH.

SPLASH.

Were lost to Davey Jones' Locker.

---

Never, in all my years of sailing the seven seas, have I seen such an abhorrent display of bad form.

Beavis, 'Butt-head', it is clear to me that if left unpunished, your behaviour will have a crippling effect on the youth of Neverland. Such a display of bad form, broadcast to the young, vulnerable sections of society, will undoubtedly, have dire consequences.

It is material like this, that leads children to believe that it is somehow, okay, to chop off the hand of an innocent, educated man, and feed it to a crocodile.

These boys should be taking in the very best society has to offer, reading Homer's Odyssey, listening to Mozart, taking in the very best culture, our society has to offer.

But instead, they are subjected, to your filth. To this appalling low culture. To 'Butt-head' hitting a frog with a baseball bat, or Beavis taking a pregnancy test.

The crew of the Jolly Roger, will not stand back and allow this insolence to continue. You ne'er-do-well's will be punished for turning the children of Neverland into psychopathic, hand removing, delinquents.

For corrupting the innocent youth, encouraging them to turn toward such disrespectful and dishonest activities, and away from the noble practice of piracy.

When I am done with you boys, you will be pleading for the plank. You will be begging to be marooned on some godforsaken island in the middle of nowhere. You will be positively thrilled at the possibility of being strapped to a cannon and sent to Davey Jones' locker.

But I will show no such mercy. I cannot show such mercy, in the face of such bad form.

To only send you off the plank, to only leave you stranded on a lonely island, to only leave you victim to the whim of the ocean, would be a blatant, and sickening miscarriage of justice.

And nor am I going to allow my men, or some crack-head lesbian, to deal with you.

Instead, boys, you are going to feel my wrath.

My hand has been taken from me, and it appears that that is a result of your influence, on young Peter. I have been left only, with this cold, lifeless hook. I can't row, I can't conduct an opera, I can't even clap.

Now, you are going to become the victims, of your own bad form.

I am going to use this hook, that you have effectively left me with, to rip you children limb from limb. When I find you, and I will find you, you are going to feel the full force, of Captain Hook.

You will not get a trial. You won't get a wrestling match.

No.

Instead, we're going to have a good old fashioned vivisection, right on the deck of the Jolly Roger, in the middle of the ocean.

Unfortunately, at Eton, I learnt how to perform such an operation using a scalpel.

So you'll forgive me, if I can't cut so effectively with my hook. I fear it may get a bit messy. Mister Smee fears that too, it may be bad for you, but he's the poor man who'll have to clean it up. Believe me, after I'm done with you, that isn't going to be a pleasant job.

I take no pleasure in giving Mister Smee such a dirty job, but needs must.

Beavis, 'Butt-head', society has turned you into monsters. Your atrocious education, your mind-numbing 'metal', your sickening 'video games', they have created two, young, desperate, lost, boys.

'Lost boys', like you, don't change. You can't be saved. The damage has been done, and all we can do now, is make sure that you cannot corrupt anybody else. We can only make sure, that your 'ideas' don't spread like a plague.

It will be my pleasure, to rid Never Land, of Beavis, 'Butt-head', and if he shows his face again, Peter Pan.

Personally I hope the last thing you see, as the blood oozes out of every orifice I create in your tattered bodies, as you struggle to get those last few breaths out of your weak battered frames, is the Jolly Roger flying free, high above you in the wind. I want you to look up at that symbol of honour, grace, adventure. And I want one question, to flash through your minds before they pack up.

Did I choose the right path?

OOC: Never again.

Had the day off today. I won't have many more before the deadline and I don't want to dedicate too much time to this, so posting it as it is. Felt really odd writing it, certainly not like anything I've tried before, or will ever try again. I'm aware that the end result is just a bit stupid, but it was at least a fun excuse to watch old Peter Pan movies for nostalgic purposes. Needless to say I wasn't going to take as much care with the writing of this, as I would with a normal RP.