New and Improved September First Addition
"Ma!" The girl cried out from her large bedroom.
"I don't feel good!" She whined.
"I can't go to school today!" Betty sighed and put down the book she was reading. She peeled off her reading glasses, got up and went into her daughter's green and pink bedroom. Betty sighed and lifted back her fourteen-year-old's light red hair placing a hand on her forehead.
"You have a fever. And of course it would be on a testing day" Betty rolled her eyes.
"Well no matter… I have a book for just such occasion!"
Betty's daughter huffed at the word "book". Her mother always had a book for any occasion.
"The British are coming!"
"I have a book for that!"
"The sink won't work"
"I have a book for that!"
"I'm tired of reading…"
"I have a book for that." It was a wonder her mother wasn't a librarian. Though she visited often
"I can't read ma, I don't feel well."
"I know honey that's why I'm going to read it to you!"
"I think I'm much too old for a bed-time story" She replied sarcastically between a cough, she was four teen after all.
"Oh this is far from a bed-time story…" Betty had a twinkle in her eyes as she stepped out of the room leaving her daughter to stare after her like an insane person. She picked up a well thumbed-through copy of her favorite book of all time and her thin rimmed reading glasses. Betty sat down on a chair next to her sick daughter's bed. She tied up the loose strands of her auburn hair in a rubber band and flicked on her glasses.
Smiling like crazy now she flipped open the book. Betty had read the book hundreds of times and loved it even more each new time she read it. But over the years her fetish for a certain character led her to abridge it of sorts as apparently Goldman had done himself to the very dry, very long original. Her daughter would not yet hear William Goldman's classic version but her own mother's version. She began to read, mostly from the pieces of paper she had scribbled on herself. She looked at the pages but barely had to read any of the words, they were basically memorized…
The year that Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was-
"Mom, you can't be serious… you mean to tell me you're going to spend your whole day here reading this novel about a flower and beautiful women to me? Perhaps it would be kinder of you to grab a pan from the kitchen and knock me out right now!" Betty narrowed her eyes at her naive daughter but kept her patience.
"Now as I was saying…
-a French scullery maid named Annette, but the way I see it, this book is not about Annette, or the most beautiful woman in the world, or even Buttercup in fact. It is about a handsome and daring, loveable, skinny Spaniard named Inigo Montoya…