A/N: My Valentine's Day gift to you is a new chapter, full of romance and intrigue- and an account of my fabrications. I made a special effort to make this one more exciting than the past chapters, since even I was getting bored with the story. It must be good, as I'm pretty sure I gave my computer a headache while writing this.
Also, please note that I do not own The Princess Bride, Father of the Bride, or Looney Tunes. Though I would gladly challenge at least William Goldman to a battle of wits for the rights to The Princess Bride.
Chapter 7: A Rhetoric in Retrospect
"Mawidge. Vewy old. Mawidge is a dweam wiffin a dweam. The dweam of wuv wapped wiffin the gweater dweam of everwasting west. Eternity is our fwiend, wemember that, and wuv wiw fowwow you fowever."
"Dad, I met a guy in Wome. And he's wonderful and bwiwwiant, and we're getting mawwied."
"I'm hunting wabbits."
Is it just me, the most illustrious authoress of this tragic tale of myth and mystery (don't waste your time trying to figure out where the myth and mystery is. I am the writer, so I can say what I like), or do most influential people suffer from misplaced "r"s and "w"s? The Impressive Clergyman from The Princess Bride, Annie from Father of the Bride, and Elmer Fudd from Looney Tunes—all supremely influential characters for children and adults of all generations. What is it with the random exchange of "r"s with "w"s that makes everyone in the world love their exchangers so much? Could it be the innocence of their words? The relatability? The amount of grave-digging completed? Whatever the case, Rhoticism continues to plague society in great numbers.
Now, if you're wondering as to what the point of all this is, I'll tell you: I don't know.
I do know that Zerubbabel was also totally unaware of how she had ended up where she was. There she was, bound and gagged with twine and wire. In a shopping cart, no less. Her captors had even used her own designer shoelaces to tie her hair up. And she still had no clue what had happened.
All she knew was that it had begun when the old man told her Indie's last location. She had returned to her room, so tired that she toppled onto the bed in her hotel room and fell asleep immediately. When she awoke that morning, she felt refreshed, as she had formulated an entirely fail-safe and fool-proof plan. But do not fawn over her ability to think in her sleep too soon, readers. Her plan consisted of finding a way to get to Indie's location in Meissen, somehow convincing her to take over her job, and heading back to an airport to head back home. Yes, a very well-thought-out plan that accounted for all the variables. She should win a medal.
Anyways, Zerubbabel woke up with a plan in mind. Her subsequent knock on Snow's door was only to be expected of a vastly impatient woman. Snow had been in the middle of doing her makeup. Barely giving her time to pack up her suitcase of makeup, Zerubbabel rushed Snow out the door. As a now very grumpy Snow and Zerubbabel, feeling agog with exhilaration over how close she was to obtaining her dream job, scarfed down a quick breakfast, Zerubbabel used her GPS to locate the nearest train station. She had run Snow out the door so fast when she realized the next train left in ten minutes, Snow swore she felt dizzy.
Once they had finally purchased their tickets and gotten on the train, Zerubbabel had calmed down a bit. Just a few more hours before I'm free, she thought to herself. She laid her head back and closed her eyes.
An hour later, the train squealed to a stop as they entered a train station. Feeling refreshed from her hectic morning (and ignoring poor Snow's groaning protests), she stepped off the train with Snow in tow. As they ran down the walk, desperately trying to reach a bike rental store, Zerubbabel suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Oh no, she despaired. Standing before her and the panting Snow was a certain former governor whose face Zerubbabel knew better than she liked to admit. Hoping to sneak by unnoticed, she motioned to Snow to follow her lead and tiptoe by while he examined a shop window. They had almost gotten out of hearing range when he turned, spotted them, and yelled, "Hey!"
The two young women began sprinting down the walk as the older man chased after them. (A/N: He shouted a few more times, but none of the words that escaped his mouth are what I would consider to be a K-plus rating.) Despite his desperate shouts of profanity, Zerubbabel and Snow did not slow down, or even look back.
Zerubbabel caught sight of a corner that appeared to lead into an alleyway, and took the chance without another moment of deliberation. Snow continued to follow her lead. They dived into the tiny alleyway, just as the heaving governor passed their hiding place.
"Who was.. that?" Snow panted, clutching a stitch in her side.
"Former client of mine. We heard he was donating vast amounts of money to pass a bill that would make private detective agencies illegal."
"And?"
"And we followed normal procedure. I get him off guard with my beauty and charms, then the big guys come in to save the day." Zerubbabel shuddered unexpectedly. "That is the closest I have ever come to kissing a man at least three times my age. I had to take time off after that case."
"Why is he here in Germany, if he lives in America?"
"He's a politician, Snow. They like to go to places hardly anyone can afford to play golf."
"Huh."
"That about sums it up." It was in that moment that Zerubbabel caught sight of a frying pan aimed at her.
Snow began chattering away about some abnormally short friends she used to have. "They were so fun. I made them breakfast every day before they left for work. They were diamond miners, you know. Beautiful jewels, some given to me—"
"Snow."
"My favorite was a yellow one they found, truly beautiful. That was when I had a necklace made. Just imagine, that beautiful jewel as a pendant—"
"Snow!"
"What?"
"You might want to look behind you."
Snow did so, and was silent instantly.
A voice from the shadows whispered, "Make one wrong move, and I hit you with the frying pan."
Zerubbabel and Snow turned to each other, terror etched on both of their perfect faces.
A/N: CLIFFHANGER! Do you know how long I've been waiting to include one? I live for torturing you guys!
Most (un)regrettably, I spent this week on my couch eating bon-bons as I wallowed in self-misery. Another week has gone by with no reviews, and I didn't even have the energy to buy more cats. So the last chapter's prize goes to... my local candy store! Thank you for supplying the unlimited bon-bons. Your contribution is duly noted.
This week's prize is the best yet: Two tickets to see the donkey races, and caterwauling lessons from my favorite cat! I really am evil. Next thing I know, I'll be running around playing golf and telling everyone what to do. If you want to save me from this fate, you'll review *pulls out sandwich* Or else... Hang on, I grabbed the wrong thing!
