Author's Note: 11 reviews, thanks. The way this fic started I thought I'd
never get over 10. Here's Chapter Four for all of you reading this fic.
This is the second-to-the-last chapter. I'll try to get the last one out
sometime next week.
Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter One
Story Title: Gerald Learns to Fence
Chapter Title: On Guard!
Gerald, Arnold, Phoebe, and even Helga were walking towards Rex's place. Phoebe had asked Helga to go with her and, after thinking it over, Helga had agreed.
"Okay," Gerald said, looking at a piece of paper. "According to the directions Rex gave us, this should be the place."
"Criminey," Helga remarked. "This place is huge."
Gerald looked up and saw an impressive mansion. It was designed to look like an old English manor. "Yup, this has to be the place."
"You sure you're up to this, Gerald?" asked Arnold.
"Why don't you ask Phoebe." Gerald replied, jerking his thumb in Phoebe's direction. "She knows I'm up to it."
Phoebe nodded. "That's quite true, Arnold. Gerald learned the moves amazingly fast."
"You sure you didn't teach him 'other' moves instead of fencing moves, Pheebs?" Helga chided.
Phoebe went bright red. "Helga!"
Helga chuckled. "Just kidding, Phoebe. Criminey, I just hope Geraldo here really did learn all the moves you taught him."
"You bet I have." Declared Gerald. "I'm gonna go in and wipe the floor with Rex."
"Alright, Gerald, let's get this over with." Arnold said. "Just remember, even if it is a formal grudge match, it's still just a game."
"Yeah, sure," Gerald said with a determined look. "Whatever you say, Arnold."
Arnold sighed, he could tell from the look on Gerald's face that even though he had said that Gerald was probably planning to ferociously and intently pursue the match.
They walked over to the main gate where they were stopped by a security guard with, unsurprisingly, a British accent.
"What do you youngsters want?" asked the guard with a slightly impatient tone.
"Your boy, Rex, challenged me to a fencing match today." Gerald explained.
The guard arched an eyebrow questioningly and turned to check a small computer in the guard shack. After a moment, he looked up. "Ah, might you be young mister Johanssen?"
"Yeah." Gerald answered.
"It appears that you are expected after all. Do come in." the guard depressed a button and the main gate opened. As they stepped inside the grounds another person, who wore a tuxedo, approached to greet them.
"Good day to you young mister Johanssen, and to your companions as well." Greeted the man in, as expected, an English accent. "I am William Henry Wilberforce, young master Rex's personal gentleman's gentleman."
"You mean you're Rich Boy's butler?" Helga commented.
William rolled his eyes. "Yes, I am indeed the young master's 'butler'." He said the word "butler" with a slightly disdainful tone. Clearly indicating that he disliked the term.
"Well," continued William. "Let us proceed then, the young master is waiting for you."
The butler led the way and the others followed. Their eyes bulged and their mouths hung open as they entered the Smythe-Higgins mansion. The ceiling had cathedral-like heights and the interior was decorated with fine carpets, paintings, busts, several pieces of stylized furniture, statues, and other such objects. All of which looked, and most probably were, expensive.
"Dang," Helga said. "These guys give the term 'stinking rich' a whole new meaning."
Phoebe was closely scrutinizing a painting. "I do believe that this is a work of Thomas Gainsburough. It's not in any galleries or records about him, but this is definitely painted in his style."
"Good eye, young miss." William said approvingly. "That portrait of Sir Horatio Smythe-Higgins II was indeed painted by Mr. Gainsburough during 1768. Just before the Smythe-Higgins family left England for the American Colonies."
"Yes, Thomas Gainsburough was a well-known portrait painter among the wealthy in England." Phoebe said. "It would not be out of the ordinary for a Smythe-Higgins ancestor to have a portrait made by him."
Helga sighed. "Hey, this little history lesson is interesting and all, but doesn't Gerald here have a duel to fight? I want to get this over with quickly, Wrestle Mania is on TV at four."
"Yes," William said. "Let us proceed."
They kept on walking until they reached a large doorway. William opened it and bid the others to ste inside.
"So," they heard a familiar voice say as they stepped inside. "You showed up after all."
"I told you I'd be here, Rex." Gerald said.
"Yes, but I expected you to 'chicken out', as you American's call it." Rex said.
"Me? Chicken out? To you?" Gerald said, amused. "You gotta be joking."
Rex ignored Gerald's retort. "I take it you've learned how to do the epee bout?"
"Yeah," Gerald said. "I'm also ready to take you on!"
"My, my, feeling a little confident, aren't we?"
"Yeah, well, you look a little too cocky yourself."
"In my case, I have the right to be." Rex said. "I didn't get taught by some two-bit fencer like you probably did."
Phoebe's eyes flared a little at that, but she said nothing. Gerald, however, reacted a little differently. "Hey! Phoebe's no two-bit fencer. She's probably better than the instructor you have!"
"Your girlfriend taught you?" Rex said. "You really must've been desperate."
"She's not my girlfriend." Gerald said. He turned and winked at Phoebe. "At least, not yet."
Phoebe blushed a deep red. Gerald continued: "And she's a pretty good fencer, so lay off!"
"No matter how good you claim she is, I was trained professionally." Rex said. He gestured to a brown haired man. "This is Charles Cardwell, my fencing instructor."
"Great," Helga muttered, noting the instructor's name. "Another Brit."
"Actually, I'm from Connecticut." The instructor said in a refined, but definitely American, tone.
"Mr. Cardwell will serve as our match's president, what you would call a referee. And these three gentlemen," Rex pointed to three people. "Will be our match's scorekeeper, timekeeper, and signal operator."
Gerald nodded, he put on fencing gear that William handed to him. He also took an epee from Charles, the instructor. He noted that the gear he was wearing had a wire leading from the back and connected to an apparatus operated by the signal operator. He knew that the apparatus most likely recorded hits to his body.
As Gerald put on his helmet Rex asked: "Are you ready?"
"Yeah." Gerald replied.
"Then," Rex said. "On guard!"
Gerald took the on-guard stance and kept his eyes on Rex. The match had begun.
Author's Note: Well, that's it for now. Please review.
Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter One
Story Title: Gerald Learns to Fence
Chapter Title: On Guard!
Gerald, Arnold, Phoebe, and even Helga were walking towards Rex's place. Phoebe had asked Helga to go with her and, after thinking it over, Helga had agreed.
"Okay," Gerald said, looking at a piece of paper. "According to the directions Rex gave us, this should be the place."
"Criminey," Helga remarked. "This place is huge."
Gerald looked up and saw an impressive mansion. It was designed to look like an old English manor. "Yup, this has to be the place."
"You sure you're up to this, Gerald?" asked Arnold.
"Why don't you ask Phoebe." Gerald replied, jerking his thumb in Phoebe's direction. "She knows I'm up to it."
Phoebe nodded. "That's quite true, Arnold. Gerald learned the moves amazingly fast."
"You sure you didn't teach him 'other' moves instead of fencing moves, Pheebs?" Helga chided.
Phoebe went bright red. "Helga!"
Helga chuckled. "Just kidding, Phoebe. Criminey, I just hope Geraldo here really did learn all the moves you taught him."
"You bet I have." Declared Gerald. "I'm gonna go in and wipe the floor with Rex."
"Alright, Gerald, let's get this over with." Arnold said. "Just remember, even if it is a formal grudge match, it's still just a game."
"Yeah, sure," Gerald said with a determined look. "Whatever you say, Arnold."
Arnold sighed, he could tell from the look on Gerald's face that even though he had said that Gerald was probably planning to ferociously and intently pursue the match.
They walked over to the main gate where they were stopped by a security guard with, unsurprisingly, a British accent.
"What do you youngsters want?" asked the guard with a slightly impatient tone.
"Your boy, Rex, challenged me to a fencing match today." Gerald explained.
The guard arched an eyebrow questioningly and turned to check a small computer in the guard shack. After a moment, he looked up. "Ah, might you be young mister Johanssen?"
"Yeah." Gerald answered.
"It appears that you are expected after all. Do come in." the guard depressed a button and the main gate opened. As they stepped inside the grounds another person, who wore a tuxedo, approached to greet them.
"Good day to you young mister Johanssen, and to your companions as well." Greeted the man in, as expected, an English accent. "I am William Henry Wilberforce, young master Rex's personal gentleman's gentleman."
"You mean you're Rich Boy's butler?" Helga commented.
William rolled his eyes. "Yes, I am indeed the young master's 'butler'." He said the word "butler" with a slightly disdainful tone. Clearly indicating that he disliked the term.
"Well," continued William. "Let us proceed then, the young master is waiting for you."
The butler led the way and the others followed. Their eyes bulged and their mouths hung open as they entered the Smythe-Higgins mansion. The ceiling had cathedral-like heights and the interior was decorated with fine carpets, paintings, busts, several pieces of stylized furniture, statues, and other such objects. All of which looked, and most probably were, expensive.
"Dang," Helga said. "These guys give the term 'stinking rich' a whole new meaning."
Phoebe was closely scrutinizing a painting. "I do believe that this is a work of Thomas Gainsburough. It's not in any galleries or records about him, but this is definitely painted in his style."
"Good eye, young miss." William said approvingly. "That portrait of Sir Horatio Smythe-Higgins II was indeed painted by Mr. Gainsburough during 1768. Just before the Smythe-Higgins family left England for the American Colonies."
"Yes, Thomas Gainsburough was a well-known portrait painter among the wealthy in England." Phoebe said. "It would not be out of the ordinary for a Smythe-Higgins ancestor to have a portrait made by him."
Helga sighed. "Hey, this little history lesson is interesting and all, but doesn't Gerald here have a duel to fight? I want to get this over with quickly, Wrestle Mania is on TV at four."
"Yes," William said. "Let us proceed."
They kept on walking until they reached a large doorway. William opened it and bid the others to ste inside.
"So," they heard a familiar voice say as they stepped inside. "You showed up after all."
"I told you I'd be here, Rex." Gerald said.
"Yes, but I expected you to 'chicken out', as you American's call it." Rex said.
"Me? Chicken out? To you?" Gerald said, amused. "You gotta be joking."
Rex ignored Gerald's retort. "I take it you've learned how to do the epee bout?"
"Yeah," Gerald said. "I'm also ready to take you on!"
"My, my, feeling a little confident, aren't we?"
"Yeah, well, you look a little too cocky yourself."
"In my case, I have the right to be." Rex said. "I didn't get taught by some two-bit fencer like you probably did."
Phoebe's eyes flared a little at that, but she said nothing. Gerald, however, reacted a little differently. "Hey! Phoebe's no two-bit fencer. She's probably better than the instructor you have!"
"Your girlfriend taught you?" Rex said. "You really must've been desperate."
"She's not my girlfriend." Gerald said. He turned and winked at Phoebe. "At least, not yet."
Phoebe blushed a deep red. Gerald continued: "And she's a pretty good fencer, so lay off!"
"No matter how good you claim she is, I was trained professionally." Rex said. He gestured to a brown haired man. "This is Charles Cardwell, my fencing instructor."
"Great," Helga muttered, noting the instructor's name. "Another Brit."
"Actually, I'm from Connecticut." The instructor said in a refined, but definitely American, tone.
"Mr. Cardwell will serve as our match's president, what you would call a referee. And these three gentlemen," Rex pointed to three people. "Will be our match's scorekeeper, timekeeper, and signal operator."
Gerald nodded, he put on fencing gear that William handed to him. He also took an epee from Charles, the instructor. He noted that the gear he was wearing had a wire leading from the back and connected to an apparatus operated by the signal operator. He knew that the apparatus most likely recorded hits to his body.
As Gerald put on his helmet Rex asked: "Are you ready?"
"Yeah." Gerald replied.
"Then," Rex said. "On guard!"
Gerald took the on-guard stance and kept his eyes on Rex. The match had begun.
Author's Note: Well, that's it for now. Please review.