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."

Inigo attempts to duck the clutches of the fiend, but she is too quick. With inhuman strength she overpowers him, and bends to his neck, eyes burning with unholy lust. Her feeding frenzy is short-lived, however; she pulls away, retching and spitting, a whirl of intense disgust and confusion flitting across her angry features. What should have been a fountain of warm, scarlet life instead tastes like nothing so much as horribly ripe bilge water. Montoya smiles. "Note whad' jou expecting, eh, Elvira?" He disengages from her shuddering grasp. "Joaquin, show dem de truth." Joaquin looks uncertainly at his boss. "Jou certain about dat, boss? After all, dis thraid only PG-tirteeen..." Montoya silences him with a stern look; clearly he will brook no contradiction. Joaquin shrugs. Without further ceremony, the two Spaniards turn their backs on the pub, bend at the waist and drop trousers. "De moon shows whad' we really are." Montoya peers over his shoulder and grins wolfishly. What peeks from beneath their pantaloons and small clothes is a wreck of bone and rotting flesh. Straightening and readjusting his coverings, Montoya turns and draws forth a strange, yet oddly familiar medallion from the breast of his shirt. "Thees ees the cause of our troables. Some capitan hire me to share out dis weird chest fool of gold pieces, jus' like dees one. Eight hundred eighty seven of dem, dere were. (I thought dere were only eight hundred eighty two, but jou know whad' a good counter I aim.) He go away happy weeth hees stone chest, den de nex' day I fin' five more dat fall off de table een my cabin. Dees one here, Joaquin gots anodder, an tree more seeting on the sea bed." "Now jou know why I so anxious to raise sheep, eh?" "So -- sorry, jus' a meenute. Joaquin, jou can stop wid' de waveeng de hinder at the pub, okay? Stan' op an pool jour estupeed Espaneesh poffy pants aroun' jour waist, alraidy! "Now, where was I?... oh, jes....So, whad' now, Elvira, are we to be two immortals, locked in an epic battle unteel Judgemeent Day, and de trompaits sound?"

Dass a good point. Baiter make eet a aircraft carrier.

No, too soft. Mebbe Capitan Tall Mike Bismuth van der Bulge?

"Inigo, we still waitin' for Cristofori t' invent one, jou want a harpsicord?" Oh, jou right. Whad' I theenking? ...Really beeg microwave oven, den.

Somebody goin' to have to drop a piano on heem, so he can go sproinking out de door like accordion, den come back whole in de next scene, like I promeesed?

Inigo raises his eyebrows, rolls his eyes heavenward, heaves a deep, forcefully exhaled sigh, shakes his head, crosses his arms over his chest, cocks his head slightly, looks askance and jerks his chin curtly in the direction of Robbie. "Eessues...."

Montoya, hearing the newcomer utter an ethnic slur, recoils in outrage, rushes over and decapitates him. The whole pub cheers! Good manners have been restored by Inigo's swift action. Realizing his mistake ("Oh, wait...dass' note very fonny, ees eet? Even eef it ees satire"), Inigo retrieves the head and attempts to reattach it, muttering, "Doan' worry, meester. Jou gon' come back een de nex' scene, anyway, jus' like Wile E. Coyote."

Montoya mutters over one shoulder, not taking his eyes off Elvira. "Jacky Tar, jou blind? I noat de mos' supersteetious guy in de world, but dees jus' not add up. First, Elvira, she show up here wid' her own personal bank of fog. At de time, I t'ink dat's jus' Flatulence doing her leetle theeng, no beeg deal. But den she try to geeve me a hickey I naiver gon' forget! On top of dat, jou tell me, where de boys gone, eh? Dose ashes over dere jus' blow out of Ray's cheemney? An now she acting like I gon' do her in wid' a little bitty piece of gold and a bucket of water? (Okay, maybe eet really be all de garlic I so fond of, but so what?) Whad' I be holdeeng dat's so dangerous, eh? Ees not like I got a rope!" He turns his attention to Elvira again. "I not sure how I soddenly go from de Pirate Hunter to de Night Stalker, but Elvira, jou askin' for eet! Joaquin, time for a one-wooman wet-T-shirt contest!" Joaquin dashes the bucket of impromptu holy water on Elvira. Montoya holds the crucifix up, and exhales heavily in Elvira's direction, taking no chances.

Assisted by Jacky Tar, Inigo gets shakily to his feet. Recovering, he grabs the crucifix from around the slumbering Cardinal's neck, and advances on the cowering Elvira. "Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya! Prepare to die! --oh wait, jou already dead." "Joaquin! Go get anodder bucket of water. Holy water thees time, eef jou please." (under his breath) "Eef it doan' work, we gon' have a nice show, anyway."

"How I know jou have my breast interest-- uh, my best interests, at heart, eh? Whad' for I want to handle jour as ... I mean, whad' for I want to hand over my assets to jou? Jou alraidy got Bickering, Bulimia, Ennui and Flatulence; whad more could jou possibly want from me??