Inigo Montoya

Dey say eet ees good for digestion. Me, I say: jou know de phrase "Three sheets to de wind?" Well, dat ees whad' blue green algae do to jou. Jou eat too much algae, and dere you go, t'ree sheets to de wind!

Eh, he ees trying to get reech queek, selling blue-green algae. Jou weel naiver guess hees source. I tell heem dere's too many barnacles meexed in, tho'.

"Aye, yi yi, where are my mannairs? Eet's not right to comb eento soch a fine estableeshment and noat provide any custom! I would like an organic yogurt flavored weeth lavender blossom, some macrobiotic brown rice, and lightly steamed asparagus. And a beeg bag of Cheetos." Inigo drops a few coins on the tabletop. Spotting one amidst the mix, ornately carved in Aztec fashion with a skull in the middle, he hastily retrieves it and stows it in his purse. "Jou not want dat one, heh."

Inigo's eye is caught by a glint of light from one of Black Syren's braids. He goes to investigate. A curious pendant is dangling there: a doubloon, from which depend strings of charms. The doubloon seems indefinably warm to the touch. "Eh, eh, eh, I see jou been up de Meeseeseepee Reever. Been to see a Menominee healer man, eh? I know dat guy. Heem even crazier den I aim. But he have good heart. Jou keep dat close, jou hear? Let eet do his work."

Inigo turns to meet BriarRose, and seeing the crimson dripping from lips and hand, flinches, barely suppressing a shriek. "Oh, sorry. For a second dere, I t'ought jou were my ex-wife Elvira." He extends a hand. "Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You sonk my sheep. Prepare to die. --No, wait." He slaps his forehead. "Sorry. Old habits."

Sherman, let's set the Way-Back machine to July 15, 1704 -- otherwise known as this! Eef jou need hailp, jus' shout "Hailp, Meester Weezard," an' I say, "Dreesel, Dressel, Drossel, Drom, time for dees one to come home." Mos' recently, a bonch of Jena Seex protesters hear I makeeng noose jokes, an' dey grab me and send me to where "Down Ees Up." Dass right, I goes to de penal colony in Sout' Australia. Noboddy to talk to dere but Rotten Robbie, de Terror o' Terra Australis. Man, dat a bad scene! I almos' learn how to make noose proper-like, jus' to juse on heem. I see jou people get into plenty troable while I gone, do'. Looks like fon.

Inigo ducks involuntarily at the mention of Elvira. Recovering his composure, he looks furtively back and forth, just to be sure. Mm, what eees thees cwahso jou jus' han'me? Ees thees like a sheep's bees kit? Flakes of crust blow from beneath the fringes of his mostachios.

The door bursts open. Who say "hand over feast?" Dat soun' like a piratey theeng to say! Jou, Nate, jou geeve dem back dere feast right thees meenute! Soamboddy going to go hongry odderwise! ...whad' jou all lookeeng at?

Inigo pokes his head in the door just in time to see Ransom's feat. His eyes get wide; he's never seen one of those used to open a bottle before. He blushes and ducks outside.

Electric Bill

Inigo sticks his head in the door. "Deed I hear somebody call for a fruitcake?"

Eyeing Rosarita sidelong, Inigo takes the condiment construction from Jenny and absentmindedly chews it. As the flavors of pickled onion and maraschino cherry mingle on his palate, a slight grimace crosses his countenance and he swallows with a slight effort. He turns to Red Cat Jenny. "Gracias, senorita. ... I theenk." His brow furrows momentarily, trying to entrap a fleeting thought. He picks at an incisor. "Jou know, dat flavor ees familiar. I theenk I taste that recently." He rummages through his trick or treat bag again. Objects are set on the table. He holds one up, frowning at it. "I got a rock." More things follow. A mousetrap (occupied) ... a stocking, in critical need of darning ... a used hypodermic syringe ... a box of "Good & Plenty" ("dat was Juan mean lady" Inigo mutters) ... A compass that doesn't point north ... finally, a telltale toothpick. He waves it at Red Cat Jenny. "I thought so! Do jou leeve at de fourt' house from de corner on Harbor Street?" Joaquin nods in assent, from inside his helmet. "I ate seex of dose t'ings...."

"Jou know, jou not being bery helpful," Inigo says to Jacky, accepting the napkin. "Anyway, I -- ow! Dam' hook."

"Who says we combing to jour party, hah? We jus' gait done Treek or Treeteeng. Look at all de loot!" He holds up sample after sample from a sack. "Gommy worms...gommy ears...gommy eyeballs..." Examining with a frown a square foil packet, "...whoa, who geeveeing dose out?" He drops it hastily back in the bag. "Anyway," he continues, "I comb to tell jou I theenking of dropping thees Pirate Hunter beeziness. While we were out last night, jou know whad' I see? House after house weeth a pirate hung from a tree. Jou know what? I theenk The Pirate Hunter has gone and seriously oversold deir franchise. I not want to compete een a saturated market. (Maybe I could get one of dem to show me how to tie a noose, first, though...)" "Oh, and Meester Tar, heem is an astronaut. He ees Joaquin Andamun. Jou know, "Juan small step for a man, Juan giant leap for mankind." Do I have to spell eet out for jou?"

The sound of two pairs of booted feet can be heard briskly approaching outside. As the sounds reach the doorway, the tombstone goes off, overlaid by a short shriek and the receding sound of one pair of feet in unrestrained flight. A second or so elapses. Joaquin Andamun pokes his head in the door, arches one eyebrow, flaps a hand vaguely in a "just a second" gesture, and disappears. A minute or so later, Joaquin and Inigo enter the doorway. Inigo is dressed in bucket boots, striped socks, voluminous canvas slops, frilly-necked satin shirt, black coat with a profusion of brass buttons (poorly matched), four-inch wide belt with heavy pewter buckle spanning his chest, red and white polkadot headscarf, and tricorn with 8-inch brims and rimmed with bright white feather marabou. A patch and hook complete the ensemble. "'Ello, everybody! Jou like my costume? Can jou guess whad' I aim? " He waits expectantly. "Dat's right, I goeeng as a pirate! Aim I not bery scary? I feegure nobody would theenk of dressing as pirate, not thees jear, dat's for certain." Joaquin is dressed in a truly outlandish piece of gear: a head-to-toe jumpsuit of heavy white fabric, capped hand and foot with thick gloves and boots, sealed to the cuffs. He wears a backpack from which lights blink and wires and hoses protrude. His head is encased in a large, clear globe. A faint hissing sound can be heard emanating from somewhere within his apparatus. "And Joaquin, can jou guess what he ees?" After a short pause, Joaquin replies, "I am Joaquin Andamun."