Ho, Gentleman!
Inform thee, the name,
By which dutiful profession and state affairs,
Or whatsoever business that demand from me a name or reason,
It is Inigo Macduff Montoya.
Thou hast, treacherously, cowardly,
Far from all light or public regard,
My noble father slained,
And thus, from him all memories
In my mind’s eye appear faintly,
'Swounds!
My patience bids Adieu! My blood o’ertakes me all.
Thou disgraceful, deformed, overborn, six-fingered traitor!
Hence thou shall,
By the warlike semblance here I stand before
Those spheres by which thy filthy soul beholds the world til today thou callst thine,
Know. Rascal, Thou diest!
Who’s this supposed to be? It makes me think of the Margie Gunderson character in “Fargo,” but her name wasn’t Gertrude, so now I’m confused. Help an orifice out?
It’s been a while since I saw this, so my characterization may be a bit off. I may even be thinking of someone else entirely. Anyway…
Uh, hi. Count Rugen is it? Im uh, Inigo Lumberg, and it seems you’ve killed my father with an improperly filed TPS report. Now if you could, um, prepare to die? That would be great.
Anything for a friendly orifice!
It’s supposed to be Stereotypical Rural Midwest Lady of a Certain Age. (Margie had a similar dialect but wouldn’t have been quite old enough.) I was channeling a great-aunt of mine named Gertrude. “Gertrude” is also otherwise a good name for a SRMLoaCA because[LIST=a][li]it has two Rs in it that can be ground down on pretty darn hard[/li][li]it has an *oo *in it that can be nasalized pretty darn good[/li][li]its popularity in the US peaked several decades ago.[/li][/LIST]
Bob Newhart phone sketch?
I met a six fingered man and he killed my dad
Whose name on my account wasn’t all that he had
He had sixty late payments two foreclosures and a repo
Now he’s rests in peace and meanwhile look at me, po’,
I should have checked my dad’s credit before I put him on my account
Now I’m picking up cans so I can afford to go look for a count
If I find that bastard he can prepare to die
Meanwhile I’m giving handjobs just to get by
The six fingered man made out with my mom
and I should have looked at F-R-E-E REPORT DOT COM.
Howdy, six-fingered pilgrim. Name’s Inigo Montya, and I’m the law 'round these parts. I reckon yer the lowdown sumbitch killed mah paw 5 years ago. And I reckon some’n oughta fill ya with steel. But I won’t. I won’t. LIKE HELL I WON’T !
My apologies to Chuck.
Begins here account operative me, agent pygtoya, on meet first Chicken Count degenerate too many digit finger, country redacted.
Chicken Count crypt breath stench blave.
Operative me word make orifice, “Ancient defiled Chicken Cukold kill death progenitor me, soon to make dead preparation!”
Operative me think machine, no say, “simple two pointed elbow to Chicken Count chest, one - two wam-pow, Flying Elvis manuever, and three days, by after next today, will Chicken Count be vomiting both lungs turn inside out, with massive blood dead.”
I’m guessing Office Space.
Office Space…
Let’s do it Monty Python Style… (modified version of the infamous Parrot Sketch)
Inigo: 'Ello. I wish to register a complaint.
Rugen: Sorry, I’m closed for lunch.
Inigo: Never mind that. I wish to register a complaint about you and your killing my father. When I saw you 20 years ago, you ordered this sword and proceeded to harm my father.
Rugen: Oh, yes, Mr. Montoya. What’s wrong with him?
Inigo: I’ll tell you what’s wrong with him; he’s dead!
Rugen: No, no, 'e’s uh… he’s resting.
Inigo: Look, Rugen, I know a dead father when I see one!
Rugen: No no he’s not dead, he’s, he’s restin’! Remarkable man 'e was, your father, ay? Remarkable swordmaker!
Inigo: The swordmaking don’t enter into it. 'E’s stone dead! 'E’s passed on! Myfather is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E’s expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E’s a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed 'im to the perch 'e’d be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E’s off the twig! 'E’s kicked the bucket, 'e’s shuffled off ‘is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisibile!! THIS IS AN EX-FATHER!!
Rugen: I’d better replace him, then. I’ve got a prince.
Inigo: That’s hardly a replacement. Prepare to die.
Even better: let’s do a side-by-side comparison of two versions of that.
I did say “MODIFIED”… I took the highlights, modified them to fit my needs. It’s more of an homage than a direct restating. Plus, according to the rules of the forum, we aren’t to quote massive passages verbatim. (Rules, subheader 2). While a fair ammount of mine is direct quotes, it is still modified. Passages that couldn’t be modified without losing the comedic value were left in tact.
You’re kinda missing my point.
Askance did his/her version before you did
No, the point that I was making is that mine is a condensed version. A modified version… I didn’t need to put the whole thing in there. It’s a long sketch, so I shortened it. Took the highlights. Granted, shorter isn’t necessarily better, however, when it comes to 1) following the rules of the forum and 2) making a concise modified version, this could be good. I was merely posting my version without reposting a whole thread. Also, according to the rules, aren’t we supposed to avoid the ad hominem attacks and keep the posts on topic? With that said, a new version…
Infomercial salesman
I’m Inigo Montoya here for SWEET REVENGE! It’s a new and improved product designed just for avenging dead fathers! Once you find the murderer you’re seeking (this one just happens to have a BONUS SIXTH FINGER!) simply SLICE HIM IN HALF! Use this foolproof sword fighting technique! It only takes 20 plus years of training and searching! CALL NOW!
My name is Inigo Montoya, and I know what you’re thinking. “Did Domingo Montoya have six kids or only five?” Well, to tell you the truth, in all the excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a 44-inch Magnus, the most powerful razor-sharp sword in the world, and would slice your head clean off, you’ve got to ask yourself a question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?
And one more:
One morning along about four bells, I am walking out of Mindy’s restaurant on Broadway after paying respects to Dave the Dude, which most people are careful to do because they do not wish to get him excited in any way. And I see a party which bears a resemblance more than somewhat to the mug which guzzled my old man. This does not fill me with joy, and I ankles over to this mug and makes him aware I may be a nameless narrator, but I know some hard guys and he should prepare to be guzzled himself.
Hey there, little Rugen. I’d like to tell you about this sword. It was made by Domingo Montoya, one of the first blacksmiths to make rapiers. Before then everybody carried around broadswords. This sword went with him to the frontiers and served him well until he came back from the war and it sat in a tea chest until he was called upon by someone, you to be exact to give him the sword. Now he knew he wouldn’t get out alive, so he gave it to a mercenary named Vizzini to give it to his son, that’s me, when he was old enough for it.
Then I was sent to Guilder to serve my country. I was captured and sent to a prison camp. Now, if they had found the sword, they would have taken it, so I hid it in the only place they wouldn’t look for it. For six long months I hid that uncomfortable hunk of metal up my ass. until I managed to escaped. And now, you little shit, I’ve come for you.
YOU SIR! are dead to me! I know what you did to my father. The libral media didn’t report it, but I know it in my gut and soon you shall feal the wrath of being on the list of one Dr. Stephen T. Colbert D.F.A. Unless, of course, you were to make some kind of cash payment, in which case, who am I to trample on the will of the free market.
Had to think about it for a sec, but nice Pulp Fiction / Christopher Walken spin…