At worlds end parody

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN POTC! whatever

Setting: It was a sunny, bright morning, a whisper of wind. It was a good day for a game of golf but Lord Beckett had other thoughts. He figured out that hanging people by their necks till dead was an entertaining and relaxing, well, thing to watch.

Officer Mortimer J.O. Minost: 'staring at his parchment' I can't read.

Groves: that's too bad! Make something up!

Officer Mortimer J.O. Minost: whatever. Ahem, here goes: Right to assembly... suspended.

People dies

Officer Mortimer J.O. Minost: Right to habeus corpus... suspended.

More people dies

Random person who was about to be hung: Not fair! What a pile of BS!

Officer Mortimer J.O. Minost: Too bad, after all, even every canary in Port Royal knows that Lord Short-ahem, I mean Cutler Beckett has no heart and he hangs whoever who speaks or gets associated with the P word because he was neither cool enough nor tall enough to be one of the Ps!

Same random person who was about to be hung: what P word?

Officer Mortimer J.O. Minost: pirate. 'Realized what he had just spoken' AHHHHH! I've got to wash my mouth with soap! 'Runs off'

People who were about to be hung: Hehe

Anyway, the hanging continued until we saw a young boy about 10 walking up the platform thingy with a silver coin in his hand.

Executioner: Oooo! Shiny!

Boy: 'sweat-drop but starts to sing' the king and his men, stole the queen from her bed, bound her in her bones. The seas be ours and by the powers…..

Guy beside him who was about to be hung: OMG! This is catching. Hm, let's see: yo ho, all hands hoist the colors high!

Very soon, the singing-virus spread through the line of people who were about to be hung. All the Royal Navy Pansie-oops, I mean guards started backing off. These guys were not paid for their brains, see, the prisoners were in chains and shackles and the guards were carrying bayonets! Geesh! Anyway, Groves, who decided it was the best time to show off his observation skills reported this to Lord Short-ahem, I mean Cutler Beckett.

Groves: Lord Short-sorry, I mean Lord Beckett! They've started to sing, sir.

Beckett: no shit, Sherlock

Groves: it is creepy, sir

Beckett: yeah, yeah, you can go now, Sherlock

Groves: Pardon?

Beckett: Clearly you are not a fan of Arthur Conan Doyle's. Wait, has he being born yet?

Groves: No idea. We are in the 18th century aren't we?

Pause

Beckett: yeah, I know that.

Anyway, the boy got hung too and yeah, end of chapter one.