Conversations With Fanfiction.

Joan's attempting to write her essay... and the stuff she finds make me giggle. Sometimes. Y'know, when they're snerk-able. (Really, you'd think she'd be writing her essay instead of giggling at my conversations with fanfiction, but...) Anyway. The following are direct quotes from a PotC fic. The bits after those is a conversation I made up. Yes.

On the Beach by Agent_Sparrow

"The only problem with being in the water is that all your valuables get wet."

Me: What? Water gets things wet?!
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: Apparently so, Miss.
Me: But... but... my valuables!
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: Nope. They're wet, too.
Me: But they can't be wet! They were dry while I was in the boat!
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: Sorry. Wet now.
Me: But... why?
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: Well... water. It does that.
Me: T__T
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: Remember to dry out your gunpowder.

"If you're going to shot me, please do so without delay."

Me: *blink*
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: What?
Me: Um. Isn't shot... the past tense of shoot...?
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: Yes. That's why I made you this time machine out of wet gunpowder and other assorted damp valuables.
Me: ...how does it work?
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: I haven't figured that out yet. But please, don't delay.
Me: *whimper*

"If she thought I was full of bullshit, she had another thing coming. I lifted my right sleeve to show my tattoo and burn mark. My little ‘souvenir’ from the East Indian trading company. Then I lifted the other one. A lightening like scar on my arm. That I got from a horrible storm when I was struck by lightening."

Me: Wait. Lightening?
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: What now?
Me: Well, 'lightning' is a natural occurrence; it happens when there's a thunder storm and the like. 'Lightening' is... well, it's a verb. How can a scar look like a verb? For that matter, how do you get hit by a verb?
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: Obviously someone never watched America's Most Wanted.
Me: ...what does that have to do with anything?
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: You'd know if you watched America's Most Wanted.
Me: ...
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: You just would. Verbs are dangerous. You'd know that. Really.

"I inspected the snake from the distance I was at. It seemed to be in a rather angry mood... I pinned it down with the stick I was holding and grabbed it by the head. Then, I held it up. It was no longer dangerous, as long as I held its mouth. It wasn't big enough to constrict me."

Agent_Sparrow's Fic: Okay, before you start...
Me: Start? Heck, I'm not even touching that one. If I did, the sun would come up and I'd have to go to class (at noon) before I was even halfway finished.
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: ...you... you don't like it?
Me: ...I think I'll let Joan make a guest appearance for this one...
Joan: I dunno. I think I'd be pretty mad too. You know, considering that someone is Holding Me By The Mouth.
Me: That did sound painful, yes...
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: ...we gave it anesthesia...?
Me: Was that a question or a statement, yo?
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: Ummm...
Joan: Anesthesia before releasing it into a tree?
Me: ...it was released into a tree? The fuck?
Joan: Swear. Jack walks over and releases it into a tree.
Me: Into the tree? Like... inside of it?
Agent_Sparrow's Fic: I... I can explain...
Joan: No. I think you've done enough already.
Me: *shoos* Away with you.

Le diaper.

Me: *watching a television commercial about cancer and children* It's not that hard to diaper a baby.
Joan: It is when your baby has cancer!
Me: *gigglefit*