Longtime before stoned pirates were fighting against contaminated monsters somewhere in the carribbean nights, a little boy in the german province was sitting in front of a black/white tv, yes kids there where such things, you can't imagine, and watched breathless to a movie.

 

It was in the protected 1960s, and the little boy only saw two options for his further live. To become a pirate, under the license off a red curled curled, english queen or to become the left attacker of Borussia Dortmund, but that's another chapter.

          

                                  

 

 

 

Johnny Depp was named Burt Lancaster at that time and with the support of a professor he and his comrades defeating the bad Baron Gruda.

At that time, a kid could exactly identify, who was bad and who was good.

There was only Rum, but no other drugs on board.

 

The Heroine was cute and the Hero was a true man with education and behaving, beside when it was necessary to whop some spanish or optional french bastards.

 

                                      

 

After the movie was out, the little boy and his brother boarded the neighbors garden, grabed the younger boys from the playground and swore not to rest until the last three-master of the surrounding was captured.

 

And now, ladies and gentlemen you may guess what i will do this afternoon.