*Romance of the Caribbean or All About Reforming The Monster

This post is intended to illustrate the * in the above post. 

Most ladies I know are either Captain Jack Swallow girls, or Will Turner girls, or maybe even Nord..Norr — er..the other guy from the three-way swordfighting scene– girls.
Not me.
Were an alternate version of me thrust into the world of the pirate movie, held at gunpoint, and told that she had to win the love and hand in marriage of one of the men in the movie, else she and all those she loved dear would be horribly killed, she would — without hesitating over it for a split second — go find Captain Jack, borrow his compass, find the chest, seize the heart, and then go stuff the danged thing back into the chest of Davie Jones.
Once he had his heart back (assuming he didn’t instantly turn to dust or something), she would explain that other girl, the one who broke his heart to begin with, was no good for him, and that she was the better choice. Then, she’d set out to prove it.
Should, years later, after a tempestuous romance with much suffering before all was resolved, someone point out to her that her husband, the captain of the Flying Dutchman, was a MAN-SHAPED SQUID for Christ’s sake!!! She would turn, look at him, blink thoughtfully, and reply, “You know, you’re right. I hadn’t noticed. Ah well, just makes him look more distinguished.”


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