To Be In the Grip of Davy Jones's Locker

My voice of Reason has carefully written out a guide for me to use in these chaotic yet peaceful times. It has left me clues as to where a treasure lay buried and like the man that I am, with a bomb and timer locked around my neck, I eagerly await the next hint to be whispered frantically in my ear. But with each second, every tick and every tock seem to increase in volume and in velocity. They drown out the clarity to my auditory sensors and I fear that with potatoes in each ear my next sign will be too muffled to hear. However, a digital clock just wouldn't give off the correct ambiance for my liking anyway, so I'll just learn to listen more carefully. The more time spent trying to piece together the puzzle leads me only to believe that inside the sunken chest that has been controlling my every turn for the past year will be nothing but a single paper with a three number combination. The only sequence to unlock the explosives decorating my collar. I search only because I have no choice. Reason does not wait, nor does it wait long after one of it's various demands are met either. Once #1 is done, 2 can begin, after #2 then #3 is shortly breathing down my neck. One by one each mission completed turns me from someone once motivated by greed, to a drone left struggling just to breathe. And without regard or consideration, for any number of the passing strangers, my last clue, my missing pages, to get this necklace off once and for all, will be plastered billboard sized on the wall. And Reason will shout, "X marks the spot, the treasure is near!" Now the search for my treasure becomes my greatest fear. You see there is now a barrage of pirates all with bombs around their necks all searching the surrounding area for a nonexistent X.