Author's Note: I know nothing about Bosnia; all I do is make fun of it. If you're Bosnian, I apologize. You just happen to have a funny name and a small country. MUAHAHAHHAHAHA!
I am not racist. I'm just a partially pigmented albino from the United States. It messes with your mind, man!
You hate me because I'm pale, don't you? Well, punk, I'll blind you with this skin.
Anyway. Read and review. They say alcohol does funny things to your head. What do you think?
Chapter Four: Masters of Steel and Strength
Bosnia is a country. That's really all anyone knows about it. Nothing interesting ever occurred there and nobody beautiful lived there. I apologize to any Bosnians reading this, but someone has to tell you the truth. If you're beautiful and a boy, come to my house now. If you're a girl, go shoot yourself and stop populating my planet.
Anyway.
"Fezzik," Inigo whined in a French accent, "I am très hungry."
"Inigo, stop speaking like you are French." Fezzik snapped.
"I am very sorry." He said, bowing his head. "Aha! This is what I would like!"
"What?" Fezzik looked over at Inigo's menu as if it were somehow different from his own. "What can you see? I can't read mine, it's all… Bosnian."
"It's the je ne sais pas." Inigo explained.
"You can read Bosnian?"
"Do they have their own language?" Inigo rolled his eyes. "No, it is much too small a country. They use French and Portuguese."
"Oh. Then what's the Glumpy-Frumple?"
"Ah, that. That is ancient Italian for…" Inigo thought for a moment, "Balls of Yum."
"That's what I'm getting." Fezzik closed his menu. He looked around the boring restaurant that he and his comrade had stopped in. It was called "Blah." But everything in Bosnia was called "Blah," because they weren't very creative there. When you're a small country, it's difficult to manage that sort of thing.
"Garcon!" Inigo snapped his fingers and a man of medium height swaggered boringly over to the table. He had dull brown hair and eyes and a mustache that wasn't very impressive. He was just another boring Bosnian walking the streets of Bosnia.
"Oui, monsieur?" He droned in a Bosnian accent.
"We would like the je ne sais pas and the Glumpy-Frumple, if you would be so kind."
"Ok." And the man walked away.
"Inigo, it is so boring here. Why are we here again?" Fezzik moaned.
"I must find… treasure of course. I am a pirate now. And pirates find treasure."
"Not boring treasure."
"But I'm the Dread Pirate Roberts!" Inigo whispered. "Anything I steal is worth…" Inigo looked at his fingers and flipped them around a bit. "A lot, it's worth a lot."
"What are you going to steal?"
"Maybe a meal?"
Fezzik thought. "Or a diamond wheel?"
"A glockenspiel!"
"A banana peal?"
"You have a true feel,"
"For what is real." Fezzik nodded.
"In your heel."
"What's the deal?"
Inigo paused. "Here we must kneel."
"Darn, I think you've won."
"Now you keel!"
"Okay, stop rubbing it in." Fezzik shook his head.
For those of you who don't know Fezzik, he is enormous and shaking his head causes gusts of winds that knock chandeliers over. In Bosnia all the lighting was flimsy and it collapsed.
"Oops, sorry." Fezzik blushed.
The Bosnians shrugged. It was the most interesting thing that had happened since their last war, four-hundred years ago when they were still cavemen. Pretty pathetic. The moral of the story: never live in a small European country. I don't know about any other small country. Latin America has the drug trade at least, so there's some thrill there.
"Ever wonder what happened to Westley and Buttercup?" Inigo asked, pushing his fork so that it bounced up off the table.
"No." Fezzik admitted. "I completely forgot about them. They were so beautiful. They must have beautiful children."
"I doubt it. Westley was part-Bosnian; he probably had a boring son, named Marvin like every other Bosnian on the face of the Earth. Buttercup was part-Russian and all Russians are very good at hiding their good looks when they need to and using charm. Like Rasputin."
"Rasputin isn't alive yet."
"Oh, that's right. I study future history too much." Inigo shrugged.
"Anyway. Here come our meals."
"Here is the Glumpy-Frumple." The waiter put it down in front of Fezzik. "And here is the je ne sais pas." It was some sort of unidentifiable glop.
"Thanks." Inigo said happily. He took out a boring fork and dug in, shoving the stuff into his mouth and chewing.
Fezzik was not so quick to devour his own meal.
"Hey, Inigo, these look like… totem…."
"Scrotum?" Inigo said through a mouth full of food.
"Float 'em." Fezzik tried, smiling at his favorite game.
"Boat phlegm."
"Is there such thing?" Fezzik asked, beginning to eat his food.
"I'll be damned if I know." Inigo shrugged.
"But you studied! For a long time!" Fezzik said, through a mouthful of….
"THE FAMILY JEWELS!" Prince Humperdinck sat up abruptly, awakening from a horrid dream in which a giant devoured his… dismembered male addendums. "Oh God."
God, I should explain, was not yet a concept harped upon frequently. God stood for: Gunk on demand, a rather popular toy used by small boys. Humperdinck had been a big fan of the gooey substance. When people shoved the initials together they found a rather pleasant swearword. If only they knew that people ended up worshiping this sort of thing. Then again, Humperdinck did.
"What is it, Humpey?" Marguerita asked, yawning.
"Bad dream." He said, rubbing his eyes. It was going to be another long day. The sun still hadn't risen but he knew there would be hours riding under the hot sun. Beauty and her brother Marvin were lying on top of one another, sharing a pallet. Marvin enjoyed it a little too much. Beauty was asleep. Tequila was watching Marvin with aggravation. She had tried to offer him sex in exchange for some dope but he didn't have any so she was a little more forthright with "dammit, I just want your body."
Marvin had already given his heart to another.
His sister.
Ew. Thought Humperdinck. Just ew.
"WAKE UP YOU DINGALINGS!" Tequila shouted. The birds soared out from the trees, squawking in protest. "SHUT UP YOU STUPID BIRDS!" In response, they pooped on her. "AHHHHHH!"
"I'm awake already!" Marvin cried, covering his ears.
"Marvin! Why are you lying on top of me?" Beauty asked.
"Because you are sexy." He said bluntly.
"I'm your sister!"
Humperdinck was looking at Beauty with a bit more respect. And a larger boner.
"Um, it's time for us to go. Let's all get on horseback." The prince said quietly. He stuffed Pookie into his bag after kissing the teddy bear on the head.
You may be wondering how the word "teddy" came to be lodged with "bear."
President Theodore Roosevelt is not responsible.
Teddy Shmoople was a man who looked like a stuffed bear. He was furry, short, fat, and fine boned. His ears were large and he was oh-so-huggable. Except for when he bit off a little girl's head. But that's beside the point. His adorableness was so well known in Florin that the expression "teddy bear" was used to refer to stuffed bears.
You are, once again, informed.
"Beauty and I will share a horse." Marvin piped up.
"You will not!" Tequila screamed. "I am sharing the horse with you!"
"I'm bloody riding alone!" Marguerita objected.
"I'll ride with Beauty." Humperdinck muttered, though he felt a jolt of excitement ride down his spine.
Beauty looked at Humperdinck with interest. He was rather handsome. But she didn't care. She just shrugged and nodded.
"Ack!" Fezzik grabbed his throat and started coughing.
"What? What is it?" Inigo jumped out of his chair.
"It tastes… so… familiar!" He grimaced.
"Oh no, Fezzik, you've tried this before?"
"No!" Fezzik shook his head and grabbed a glass of water. "It reminds me of that cake that Vizzini used to make. Remember?"
"Tiramisu." Inigo nodded. "That's what you ordered, except you ordered it in Bosnian."
For those of you going to Bosnia, this is how you order tiramisu: "Gimme usimarit. NOW!"
"Oh." Fezzik looked down at his plate. "You know, I don't think that Glumpy-Frumple agreed with me."
"Let's go back to the hotel. You can rest up while I practice swordplay."
Fezzik only nodded. He was afraid anything else might make him vomit.
There's some impressive foreshadowing for you.
Stay tuned for Chapter Five: Of Soul and Sewer-Searching