Preface
“Hello, hello, hello, Beatrizz,” Bo said, strutting up to his future wife. “Wassup, yo?” These were the good ol’ days when Botros was a decent (mind you, I said decent, not good) person.
“Hi,” said Beatrizz. Suddenly the room went into slow-mo. She gazed at him lovingly.
“Beatrizz, Beatrizz. ‘Tis I, Botros!” Bo’s motto was “go big or go home.”
“Do I know you, ‘cause it feels like I do,” said Beatrizz with love in the air.
“Oh, Beatrizz. We were dating for a while,” Bo said, slightly offended.
“We were? I wasn’t aware,” Beatrizz responded, “Why did we break up again?”
“Excuse me! You don’t remember dating this package of handsomeness, a splash of kindness, and, uh… ” Bo opened and closed his mouth several times. “What’s another good thing about me? Um, totally unfaithful package. . . you get the memo.”
“What memo? I don’t even have a phone,” Beatrizz said confused.
“The . . . You know what, forget it. All I want to say is,” Bo draped an arm around Beatrizz’s shoulders. “I still looooooooove you.”
“And you know what?” Beatrizz whispered. Then, suddenly a memory broke free. It was weak like it had been tortured. “I love you too.”
“You do?” Bo asked in his crisped pirate-like accent (that was not real, he just did it to impress the ladies). Bo wriggled his eyebrows, leaving one raised. “You do!”
“Yes,” Beatrizz said, all the while stealing the spyglass and his sword made of shadows. She knew how to use the sword and immediately teleported away to her brother’s door and dropped the spyglass. And she was back in a blink. Bo, being the idiot that he was, did not even realize that his soon-to-be-wife was gone, sword, and spyglass, because he was testing his breath.
“Uh . . . Bee? Why are you holding my sword? Oh, nevermind.” Bo knelt one knee. “Oh, Beatrizz… what’s your last name? Oh whatever. Oh, Bee, will you be my wife?”
“Uhhhhh… don’t you think it’s a little early for that?” And as soon as she said that, she dropped his sword and bolted.
“Leaving so soon?” Bo asked. “But you did not even take the… wait, I don’t have a ring… whatever.” Bo bolted after her, and felt in his pockets. If Beatrizz said not to be his wife, she would burn. But he had no spyglass. “You stole it!!” he bellowed. He grabbed the sword from the ground and chucked it at Beatrizz. It hit perfectly in her chest, and snapped her spine in half. “MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!” Bo laughed evilly.
Three Years Later
“Heeeeeey,” Botros said.
“Hi,” Ablin said, exasperated.
“I need something,” Bo said, sinisterly. “Something you have. Something that was mine.”
“That is it,” replied Ablin.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know. You do. And your sister stole it. From me.”
“You always want something different each time so it is hard to keep track. Plus, my sister is none of my concern,” Ablin said like he had already so many times.
“She’s dead. I killed her,” Botros declared, an evil glint in his eye. “And now, give me what she stole. Every time I ask for it, your stupid little brain thinks that it’s somthing different. But no. It’s the same thing. It’s mine.” Bo stalked closer to Ablin. “Give it to me.”
“Is it that ring? Because if it is I threw it into a lake, and I want your television. So give it,” Ablin responded, brandishing his obsidian sword.
“Oh, no. Not the ring,” Bo said, unsheathing his sword made of darkness, with an emerald encrusted hilt. “That silly engagement ring that I gave to your sister. She declined. We all saw how that went down for her.”
“Well, if whatever you really want is in the bag, just reach in it and grab it,” said Ablin with a mischievous smile that was hidden with years of practice.
“Well, well, well.” Bo slashed the bag open. There inside was a jewel encrusted spyglass. The spyglass. “What do we have here?” He smiled wickedly, and held it to the light. He waited until the grass caught on fire. Then he cackled, and teleported away using his sword.
“Ha ha ha, my plan worked,” Ablin muttered as he drew back a curtain. He was actually in Bo’s home and he used the old spyglass trick. He got out of there as fast as he could and grabbed the TV on the way out.