Sadly, I do not own PotC. If a miracle came and I did, then Arabella would've already married Jack and Jack was only friends with Elizabeth and never liked her that way. EVER. That, and Norry would still be alive. But not Beckett. He is full of-

"Chris! What is the matter with you?!" Ugh, Ignore Beckett right now. He is having a good look at his wig…0o

I was sooooo beasting in Guitar Hero! GREEN! RED! RED! YELLOW! ORANGE! DDR IS AWESOME! We got the Beat! Everybody get on your feet! We Got the Beat!

BOOM! WTCF? (What the Curly Fries…) OK, I was home ALONE…I didn't know I had stalkers…..WHO THE HECK IS THROWING PEBBLES AT MY WINDOW! STOP IT! I shut the game off, and grabbed my lead pencil (and it's not even lead. It's GRAPHITE, people! DUH!) I ran downstairs, did a little spy roll, you know, when you hear spy music and you do the drop-and-roll, being all dramatic, breathing heavily, and all that crud. I swung the door open. "CUT THE CRUD! LEAVE AND GET OFF MY PROPERTY!" I wish I didn't say that. Kinda. Sorta…OK, not really. I found a blonde aristocrat on my porch. Um… "OK, If you really are Fitzwilliam, then come in. If not…." I pressed the eraser button thingy to make the point really sharp. "Then face the wrath of my mechanical pencil!" He just cocked his eyebrow. "Um, I believe I am Fitzwilliam P. Dalton III," he said, scared. He better be scared. That's right! I got the beat! Can't touch this! "Uh…yeah whatever…come in.."

I brought him to my room. What do you want me to do? Let him roam free in my house so he can destroy things? No. I just plopped back in the computer seat, blasting music from my iPod onto my iHome. Fitz was startled. I just gave him a funny look. "Whadya lookin' at? Oh! My iPod." I said pointing to the source of the music. "It's music..of this century." He nodded. I ran to the iPod, and put on…guess what….PANIC! AT THE DISCO! I put on Build God, Then We'll Talk, and I was flipping my head like crazy, my hair going everywhere. He just looked at me like I was insane. Then…another song came on…HIPS DON'T LIE! I began to salsa dance, and Fitz blushed. That's right. BE shy. FEEL like I'm flirting. Cause I know you want it! THAT'S THE WAY UH-HUH UH-HUH YOU LIKE IT! YOU WANT! YOU GOT IT? YOU NEED IT! "What is this? And who is this musician?" he asked. I could tell he liked it. Weird. "Um..her name is Shakira. And this is her music." He looked at the computer desk and stared at the bag that was opened. Crap. I forgot to share with him! I grabbed the bag and smiled, shoving it in his face. "Want one?" I said. He looked in the bag. "What is it?" I took one out. I chewed it happily. "Marshmellows, you dumb-dumb!" I said. He took offense. Oh well. That's whatcha get when you say that to an aristocrat. He took one…

"I'M A SURVIVOR! I'M NOT GON' GIVE UP! I'M NOT GON' STOP! I'M GON' WORK HARDA!" Oh yeah! SINGSTAR! Dude, Fitz isn't half bad! Actually, he's great….weird…But We were singing duets. We were just finishing Survivor. "Ooh! Let's do…that one!" He pointed to the album cover. Panic! At the Disco! I'm so proud of him! My boy is now loving Punk music! Tear tear…cry…cry… We began to sing: Oh, well imagine, as I'm pacing the pews in a church corridor and I can't help but to hear, no I can't help but to hear an exchanging of words…I love you…I love you,too. "What a beautiful wedding! What a beautiful wedding!" says a bridesmaid to a waiter. And guess what…what a shame! What a shame the poor groom's bride is a-

DING-DONG!

And right when we are getting to the chorus! I paused the game. I went to the front door, Fitzy here following suite, and I swung it open. "What?" I saw a group of kids my age-ish standing in front of me. Wait…it's…OMG! NO WAY! Teenage Jack Sparrow! With Arabella Smith, Tumen, Jean Magliore, and Constance Magliore, too! I shoved them inside. They were smiling. PAR-TAY! I shoved the bag of marshies in their faces. "Marshmellow?"

I hope you enjoyed it! Random…but I was feeling random at the moment. THANKS AND REVIEW PLEASE!