A/N: Last night my friend Beatrice challenged me to write drabbles to 21 JS using quotes from Captain Jack Sparrow

A/N: Last night my friend Beatrice challenged me to write drabbles to 21 JS using quotes from Captain Jack Sparrow. She doesn't have a fanfiction account, despite my attempts to get her one. Anyways, she loved these and thought they were hysterical. I don't think they are that great at all but by all means, please read them and review. One condition though – no flames. For copyright's sake, I don't own 21 JS or POTC.

Don't Quote Me On That

"A wedding? I love weddings! Drinks all around!"

"Guys, can I have your attention please?" Doug Penhall asked as he stood at the front of the Jump Street office. Everyone turned and stared at him as he began to clear his throat. He had been wondering how to say this to them since he asked Dorothy Saturday night. After a sleepless night, he had finally rehearsed just what he wanted to tell them only to have it all leave him as he gazed upon the expectant faces of his friends and coworkers.

"Doug, what's this about?" Tom Hanson asked impatiently. Doug regretted not telling Tom sooner. He and Tom were best of friends and he had always imagined if he was to ever get engaged, that Tommy would be the first to know.

"Well…um…as you all know, Saturday night was Dorothy's and mine anniversary. Well…I…I kind of asked her to marry me and she said yes!" Doug sighed with relief of having that part over with.

"Congratulations!" Judy hurried over to give Doug a hug.

"Yeah man, congratulations," Ioki gave Doug a handshake which was followed by Fuller's own congratulations and a handshake.

"So, when's the wedding?" Fuller asked.

"Wedding?" Tom looked at each one of his friends, "I love weddings! Drinks all around!"

"Tom, I have a favor to ask of you," Doug began, "Will…will you be my best man?"

"Only if you'll be mine someday," Tom grinned, "Now then, let's go. I'm buying!"

"Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate."

Tom Hanson took a sip of his beer as he and Doug Penhall leaned against the balcony of Tom's apartment. They had just closed a case and Doug had come over to Tom's to celebrate.

"It's sad, really," Tom said quietly.

The comment was rather out of the blue. Neither one of them had spoken since Doug's arrival and Tom's comment was pretty out of character.

"What do you mean?" Doug inquired, "We got the guy!"

"It's just…sad. His whole story was rather depressing."

"Tom, the guy robbed a bank!"

"But he did for popularity. He robbed the bank so he could have more money and gain popularity and attention. It's just sad knowing that that kid felt so alone that he resorted to stealing!"

"I think he was a moron."

"Moron, yes but his case is still…sad," Tom took another swig of beer.

"Guess some guys would do anything for treasure, huh?" Doug shrugged.

"Not all treasure is silver and gold," Tom replied, "I just wish he could have learned that before it was too late."

"You can keep doing that forever, the dog is NEVER going to move."

Tom Hanson could just about kill Captain Fuller. It was their day off for Christ's sake and he still had them doing his dirty work! Sure, he hadn't specifically said for Tom and Doug to go to Mr. Miller's home and search for evidence but he had say do absolutely everything in their power to prove him guilty. In fact, if Fuller knew that they had broken into Mr. Miller's home without a warrant, he'd be outraged. Especially at Tom considering the fact that he, of all people, should know better.

But warrants and Fuller's word choice were impracticalities compared to the bigger picture which, according to the dynamic duo, was catching Mr. Miller and putting him behind bars.

So now, on a Saturday afternoon, Tom Hanson and Doug Penhall were standing in the middle of Mr. Miller's hallway trying to get into his at-home-office. The task would seemingly be easy for officers of their rank and experience however, one must keep in mind the Great Dane guarding the door with no intention of moving.

"What are we gonna do?" Doug asked.

"Go home," Tom replied casually, "Try again some other time."

"In other words, give up?"

"No," Tom answered quickly, "Of course not. What are you doing?"

"I know I have beef jerky somewhere," Doug grumbled as he began to search his coat and pants pockets. After several searches, his hand emerged with a Slim Jim in tow.

"What exactly are you planning to do with that?" Tom asked, eyeing the beef jerky suspiciously, "And when did you start carrying beef jerky on you?"

"Watch and learn Tommy boy, watch and learn," Doug grinned as he began to wave the beef jerky in front of the dog's nose. The dog however seemed to be comply unfazed by the stick of freeze-dried, chemically processed meat dangling out in front of him.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Tom asked completely doubting the power of Slim Jim.

"Of course. Who could possibly resist beef jerky?"

"I dunno…me," Tom guessed, "Doug, honestly you can keep doing that forever, the dog is NEVER going to move."

Suddenly, to Tom and Doug's amazement, the dog jumped up, grabbed the beef jerky out of Doug's hand and sat back down in front of the office door.

"Damn," Dog cursed.

"Don't worry Doug, we'll get our evidence some other way…"

"No, it's not that…it's just that that was a complete waste of perfectly good jerky!"

"I want you to know I was rooting for you. Know that."

One day.

One day and there was a fight! It wasn't even a full day seeing as the fight started somewhere between lunch and fourth period so it was more like a half a day.

Half a day!

Half a day and there was a fight.

Of course, this time it hadn't been their fault per say. Billy Turner was the one that had come up to Doug and shoved him. He had said something about Doug speaking to "his girl." Not that Tom or Doug had seen Billy's name on her. Well, Doug just had to go and open his big mouth and say that earning him an uppercut to the jaw.

Poor Doug. Tom almost felt bad for him after hearing about the fight. No, Tom Hanson hadn't been there when the fight had occurred. He was on his way to the restroom when this whole incident had broken out. Maybe if he had been there, he and Doug could have both taken Billy and Doug wouldn't be the one sitting in the nurse's office with a bloody nose and ice on his eye.

Tom almost felt bad. If he had only been there, this wouldn't have happened! They were brothers and brothers were supposed to look out for each other – protect each other!

"Dougie, man I'm awfully sorry…" Tom finally said.

"It's okay. It only hurts when I breathe…or blink," Doug grinned from underneath the ice pack. Tom had to give it to the guy, he was a class act. No one else could be making jokes if they were in Doug's state of being.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I was rooting for you, know that."

"You weren't even there."

"Well, if I had been there, I would have been rooting for you."

"I know," Doug said and with those two words, Tom Hanson and Tommy McQuaid knew that they were forgiven. Forgiven for not being there, forgiven for not looking out, forgiven for not protecting.

"Why is the rum gone?"

Christmas parties at Jump Street were never boring. The team usually dressed up in Santa or elf hats and exchanged gag gifts while sharing sugar cookies and spiked eggnog. This Christmas party was no different.

Dennis Booker had signed up to bring the eggnog on the sign up sheet just weeks prior. Naturally, he spiked the yuletide drink with rum – and lots of it. No one was surprised when they took their first sip. What surprised them even more was the fact that fuller refrained from yelling at Booker. Must have been the spirit of the holidays!

Judy Hoffs and Harry Ioki were discussing Christmas plans when she spied a very sickly looking Hanson. He was flopped on the couch, cup in hand. His hair was sticking in all directions which wasn't anything too unusual for the young officer and his breath smelled sickly of the rum.

"Hanson, you okay?" Judy asked, kneeling down next to him.

"I love rum!"

"Of course you do," Judy grinned, "But that's enough for you. I think it's time we did away with the eggnog. Harry, pour the rest of what's left down the bathroom sink."

"Huh?" Tom tried to sit up only to be pushed back down by Judy.

"Uh-uh, you just lie right there…"

"But…but why…why is the rum gone?"

"Because we don't want you to be hung over on Christmas morning, do we?"

"Save the rum!" Tom cried, valiantly flinging his arm out to the side as if prepared to ride into battle.


Tom Hanson hated guys like Sam Norrigton. Guys like Sam were spoiled, rich, and possessive of everything they assumed was theirs, including the girls they labeled as their girlfriends. So of course when Sam slammed Tom into a locker and told him to steer clear of "his girl," Tom was not by any means pleased.

All he had done was asked the girl who's locker was next to his own where the Spanish classroom was and now here was being thrown into a locker with a fist shoved against his nose. Not a very pleasant setting.

"I…I didn't know she was your girl friend," Tom said to his defense.

"Everyone here at Sparrow High knows that Elizabeth is my girl!"

"Well, I guess I am an exception to that 'everyone.'" Tom grinned.

"Sam," Elizabeth spoke up, "For the millionth time, you aren't my boy friend and I was just telling him how to get to his next class."

"What?" Sam snapped, turning on Elizabeth.

This allowed Tom to get the upper hand. No sooner had Sam released his grip did Tom grab him and throw him to the ground. Several students gasped and stopped to view the upcoming events which they assumed would be a fight. At a school called "Sparrow High," you can't expect a lot of entertainment so a fight was just what these kids were looking for.

Tom pressed the toe of his combat book against Sam's cheek.

"Look, Sam," Tom spat out the name as if it were a bad taste, "You and I are a lot alike. We'd both hit anyone who crossed us. The only difference is, I'd never hit a girl. Ever. Not even my own daughter. So you see, I'm not really pleased with what you were about to do. So I'm going to give you two options. One, I let you up and we go on with our separate ways and you never lay a hand on her again. Two, I kick your face in. Take your pick."

"I…I wont hit her. I swear," Sam began to stutter.

"Good because if I do see or hear that you've laid a hand on her, I will kick your face in. Savvy?"




"Good because these boots are new and my stepdad would kick my ass if I got blood on them," Tom sneered.

"You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before?"

If there was one thing hated more than an pedophile, it was having to interrogate him! Of course, the fact that this wasn't even his case didn't help matters. It was Harry's case but considering that Harry's girl friend conveniently had to put her cat to sleep at the exact moment of interrogation and wanted Harry to be with her, Tom inherited the task.

Grumbling as he walked towards the interrogation room, Tom couldn't help but feel a sense of anger. There were three things that Tom hated most – people that shot cops, Valentine 's Day, and pedophiles. Luckily for him, it was all three. See, today was Valentine's Day and this guy had shot Harry when he was trying to catch him, and he was a pedophile. Lucky for the guy, the bullet just grazed Harry's arm or else Tom would release all of Hell onto this man.

Sighing, Tom yanked open the door only to be shocked to see a very familiar looking person sitting there.

"Are you my interrogator?" The man asked. Tom couldn't blame his suspicion. He was, after all, still dressed in his McQuaid clothing.

"Yes, yes I am. Look, pal let me tell you something. There are three things I hate – people that shoot cops, Valentine's Day, and pedophiles. Lucky for you, you're all three. Now, you shot one of my friends so I'm inclined to be a little irked at you so if you give me any crap, I will go ape boogers on your ass!"

"Ape boogers?"

"Don't ask questions. That's my job here! Now then, you seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before?"

"No," the man shook his head, "Mr. McQuaid."

Sure, Tom hated three things but there were a lot of things he did actually love, including high school bullies from past under cover jobs landing themselves in prison ten years later.

"If you were waiting for the opportune moment, that was it."

"I don't see why we can't just take this guy in now," Tom Hanson complained, "I mean, we have all the evidence we need!"

"I just think we should wait for the opportune moment, that's all," Doug Penhall shrugged innocently.

Tom sighed as he and Doug crouched down behind the dumpster. Currently, they were waiting for their suspect in order to catch him in the act. Tom hated stakeouts and didn't see the point in having them when they had enough evidence to book the S.O.B.

"My thighs hurt."

"Stop complaining!" Doug shushed him, "Look!"

Their suspect was currently loading stolen goods from his car and into a garage. Tom couldn't help but smile. Now they definitely had enough to book him!

Unfortunately, Doug chose that particular moment in time to sneeze. Loudly. Their suspect looked up before slamming the garage door shut, jumping back into the sedan, and driving off into night. Tom couldn't help but glare over at Doug.

"If you were looking for the opportune time to make an arrest, that was it."

"Aw, shut up," Doug grumbled.

"Now, bring me that horizon."

Tom eased into the driver's seat of the '65 Mustang. He gripped the wheel and adjusted the mirrors. He couldn't help but feel like he just fit with his new car. After turning the key in the ignition, Tom couldn't help but think about the one thing that haunted his mind – this was the first time someone else had driven the 'Stang since his dad…

Tom bit his lower lip as he played with the radio dials. This was it. This was really it. He'd drive the Mustang for the first time. If only his father could see him…

Tom couldn't help but feel lonely at the thought. Ever since he could remember, his father had promised him the Mustang and had promised that the first place they would go together would be Della's Diner, their favorite hangout in which they had many long, deep conversations over coffee and pie.

Sighing, Tom put the Mustang in reverse and backed it out of his mother's driveway. This was it. The first time anyone had driven it since his dad. Tom couldn't help but vow to himself that he'd never let anyone else drive it. It was his dad's car and Tom was just taking care of it for him. It was his dad's car.

His dad's.

Tom blinked back the tears that clouded his vision. Stepping on the accelerator, Tom couldn't help but grin and say the words his father always said when taking the Mustang out for a drive, "Now, bring me that horizon!"

"…bad eggs..."

"Bad eggs?" Judy Hoffs coughed into the phone, "Bad eggs?"

"Yup," Tom Hanson grinned, "Bad eggs."

"Hanson, you don't have a stomach virus from bad eggs. Now get your ass down here or Fuller's gonna kill you!"

"He can't kill me for being sick. Now excuse me Judy, I think I need to…" with that, Tom made a retching sound before hanging up the phone. Smiling, he handed the phone to Doug, "You're turn.'

Returning the smile, Doug dialed the number to the chapel.

"Hello, Jump Street. Detective Judy Hoffs speaking."

"Hey…Judy," Doug's voice was really rather pathetic and Tom almost complimented him on his superb acting skills. Almost.

"Penhall? Where are you? Fuller's about to have a fit."

"Tell him I'm sick."

"Sick!" Judy scoffed.

"Sick. I think it was bad eggs or something."

"Bad eggs? You have got to be joking! That has got to be the dumbest excuse!"

Doug lifted the phone from his ear and Tom grinned at the sound of Judy screaming threats into the phone.

"Is that Hanson?" Judy demanded, "I hear someone laughing! Hanson, I know you're there! Put him on, Doug!"

"Hanson? Why would Hanson be here? Isn't he at work?"

"No!" Judy screamed once more, "That's it, Doug Penhall! Just wait until I get my hands on you two…"

"Judy, I'm sorry. I got to go…" Doug grinned as he imitated the same heaving as Tom.

"You just had to go and use my excuse, huh?" Tom glowered.

"Hey, at least we get the day off," Doug smirked as he walked over to his boyfriend and began to rub his shoulders, "You just need to learn to relax."

"I'd be relaxed if I wasn't going to die tomorrow at work!" Tom rolled his eyes not wanting to think what Judy would do to them.


"Jump Street," Tom spoke into the phone.


"Hello?" Tom furrowed his brow.

"Uh…can you put the Captain on the phone please?"

"Judy?" Tom raised his eyebrows, "You're late."

"I know, I know. Just…let me talk to Fuller."

"Fuller is out right now. May I leave a message?"

"No!" Judy's reply was quick – too quick, "Just tell him I'm sick."


"Yes," Judy sighed, "Sick."

Hanson couldn't help but grin manically as he heard Judy's soft giggle and a man's voice call her "baby." Oh this was good!

"Sick with what?" Tom asked.

"I don't know," Judy sighed, "Der-ek! Stop it!" She hissed.

"I'll just tell him it was bad eggs," Tom laughed.

"Thank you, Hanson."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Tom rolled his eyes as Blowfish skipped through the door, whistling, "Where have you been?" Tom demanded, "You were out for a week!"

"Whatever you do, don't eat at the IHOP on South."

"Why not?" Tom asked.

"Because I had an omelet there last week and it had bad eggs in it. I was sick with food poisoning all week!"

"Bad eggs?" Tom's eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah, my doctor said there's been a recall on eggs. Something about them being bad. I don't know exactly. All I know is that it's good to be back."

"It's…it's good to have you back," Tom smiled despite the complete and utter shock he was in at the moment.

Who knew 'bad eggs' would actually be a legitimate excuse?

This is either madness... or brilliance.
It's remarkable how often those two traits coincide.

Tom Hanson couldn't believe what he and his partner Doug Penhall were about to do. Sure, they had planned this for the past week but Tom personally never thought he'd actually be doing this.

"You ready?" Doug asked.

"Yeah," Tom gulped, "Ready as I'll ever be."

"You know, Tommy, this is either madness…" Doug paused for a moment before continuing, "Or brilliance!"

"It's remarkable how often those two traits coincide," Tom smirked as he put the water balloon down on the chair, "She's going to kill us!"

"Correction!" Doug lifted a finger, "She's going to kill you. You are the one who put the water balloon in her chair…"

"DOUG!" Tom shouted, "You're a dead man!"

"Have to catch me to kill me!" Doug grinned as he ran off.

A/N: Okay so I know a lot of these are just downright garbage but I hope you enjoyed it. I'm thinking of writing more so if you have a favorite Johnny quote from any one of his movies, let me know and I'll add it.