Okay, so I am not one of those POTC fanatics, but I had an idea. What happened to Jack…the monkey! He happens to be my favorite character, so how did he end up on the Black Pearl? This is a tale of the secret society of monkeys and the one monkey who defies it all, number 191, later known as Jack!!

"Number 146, number 147, number 148…"The monkey people all lined up to receive their daily banana.

Number 191, however, scuttled to the front of the line, to many opposing screeches and howls from his fellow primates. Number 191 was always the odd one out, which was probably due to the fact that he was always placing himself to be there. He was sick of the daily routine: Wake up; wash in the ocean; go to work-where he worked in a little two-by-two monkey cubicle, for the APSSMC association for the protection of the secret society for monkeys in the Caribbean; stand in line for an hour to receive his daily meal of rotten banana mush; go home; pretend to be in monkey love with his monkey wife(spouses were chosen by the a APSSMC); sleep; wake up to start it all over again. What he really wanted was to be as free as the 'unspeakables' seemed to be.

The ruler of the monkeys of the Caribbean, number 1, had passed a law that disallowed number 191 to go near the tall creatures that carried the crates of 'evil liquid' back and forth across the ocean. Number 191 was the basic cause of this law, and he knew it. He knew he shouldn't have drunk the 'evil liquid,' but its amber tone was too alluring to pass up. He didn't remember much of that night, but he did remember the pulsating headache the morning after, indeed.

But what number 191 wanted more than anything in the world, was the thing known as the 'ooh aah.' The ooh aah was such a rare thing to be seen, that none of the monkeys had captivated one in over seven years. The only word for it was shiny. Its golden sheen glowed intriguingly in the sun. Oh, yes, 191 could remember the time he laid his very own eyes on an ooh aah. He longed to see one again.

"Hello, number 227, I am not going to be having banana mush, today. Gimme the yellowiest thing you got!" 191 ordered the mellow monkey behind the branch of a counter. 227 slopped brown, steaming mush onto 191's leaf.

"Thank you," he scowled, hissing. That was 191's pride and joy, his hiss.

"Get out of line!" Screeched number 149.

With one last hiss, number 191 scampered off to the beach, his usual dining area. But what he saw made him drop the plate of grotesque, slimy banana.

"A pistol with a single bullet be yer only salvation, Jack." A tall man with a freaky looking thing atop his unnaturally large head bellowed. He was waving something black at another, much skinnier man with a similar looking object over his braided hair. An entire crew of the unspeakables was laughing from atop a massive ship, like that that 191 had seen along the shore just a few miles away.

"That's Captain Jack Sparrow, to you!" The skinny man yelled.

"Last time I checked, a pirate must own him own piece of ship 'for he can be called captain." The other man snorted to jeers and cheers from the crew.

"And last time I checked, the Pearl was mine." Retorted the slim man.

"Check again, Jack."

The bulky man boarded his ship.

Just once, oh, please, just once, 191 would like to get away! In a rash, slightly stupid move, he sprinted on all fours to the ship, dawned with black sheets, high in the air above, waving majestic, yet somehow ominous in the foreboding wind-a storm about to set.

He clambered up the sodden wood to a hole in the ship, squeezing himself through. The air around him was thick and briny, and seemed to mingle with the foul smell of what 191 remembered to be the evil liquid. Come to think of it, he saw bottles upon bottles, stacked on shelves upon shelves of the auburn water. Well, if he was breaking all of the rules…

He scurried to the nearest glass bottle, marked "RUM," and held it high. The bottle collided with the wood in an earsplitting crash, as the evil liquid was revealed. 191 lapped curiously at it.

From above, he could hear the sounds of the unspeakables calling "What was that?" and then the shuffling of feet as they trudged downward to where 191 lay, slowly feeling the same effects as last time wash over him. It could possible be described as bliss, or a hysterical fit, but whatever it was, he wanted more! ((WOOT!))

He broke three more bottles, licking each of them dry.

Finally, the unspeakables reached him.

"Pintel, wook what we got 'ere." A tall, gaunt, dirty blond man pointed at 191, who was better knocked unconscious then what he was now.

"Wha-Oh ho ho! Well, well, Ragetti, looks like we go' ourselves a drunken monkey!" A much shorter, bulbous man snickered. 191 hiccupped.

"Drunken monkey!" The one called Ragetti called, still pointing at 191.

"Bo 'sun, get Barbosa!" Pintel called up the steps.

A tall, dark man walked slowly down the stairs. 191 was trying desperately to stay conscious, let alone keep up with the steadily growing list of names and unspeakables. He also wondered vaguely why they had weird names, names that sounded like words, rather than numbers. How different was this lower class of species from the highly intelligent monkey race? Whatever they were, they sure didn't smell intelligent enough to even produce speech, so, bravo for the smart little unspeakables!

The dark man then spoke. "What was that, Pintel?"

"I say I was going to go get Barbosa, is wha' I said." Pintel gulped as Bo 'sun towered over him, growling.

Under the combined pressure of the cowering man's slightly hysterical face, and the powers of the evil liquid, 191 couldn't help but laugh. He rolled along the shelf, laughing at the top of his little monkey voice, a hissing giggle that was funnier than anything this Bo 'sun could ever produce.

Speak of the devil, Bo 'sun walked over to 191, who stopped laughing at once, standing up straight-or as straight as he could with the evil liquid still in his system. Bo 'sun picked him up by the tail, and carried him up onto the deck. 191 could still see the island in the distance. Ha ha, those pathetic losers still trapped in the mundane life of the average monkey.

However, this pathetic loser was currently being swung in the air-the evil liquid churning uncomfortably in his small, monkey stomach. Then, before he could figure out what was happening, he was soaring through the air, landing limp in the grungy hands of the bulky man from the beach.

"What be this?" The man asked Bo 'sun.

"Found it in the rum cabin. Drunk," He replied.

"A drunken monkey?" The man asked.

"'Ay, I found it!" Ragetti yelled.

"Would it kill you to shut up fo' once?" Bo 'sun slapped him.

"Don't hit me!"

Then, out of nowhere, the bulky man pulled out a gun, shooting both of them in turn.

191 squealed. What kind of sick race was this? But then, the unspeakables recovered.

"Don't shoot me!" Ragetti dabbed at his wound.

"Ladies, now that we be settled, can we asses the monkey?" The thick one rolled his eyes.

"Shall I?" Another man asked, unsheathing a sword from its bolster.

"Did ya hear me speak o' killin'?" The man yelled.

"Then wha'?" The man with the weapon asked, looking disappointed.

The larger man did indeed look down at the monkey, assessing it.

"We name it Jack. Here's to the new Jack!" The man shouted.

"Aye, Jack!" The rest of them yelled.

Jack screeched, and then fainted from the toxic evil liquid's effects.

Okay, hope you like it, and PLEASE submit a review and tell me if I should write chapter two, about how he came across the curse and all. Oh, and shout out to Bri, the biggest POTC fan I know, "Love ya, Bri!!" See ya, and PLEASE send a review, even if you do not have an account. Just put like 'x' or something, so I know that you read it. Constructive criticism is welcome, as well as kind remarks. BYEBYE!!!!