I do not mean to pry, but you don’t, by any chance, happen to have six fingers on your right hand?
Do you always begin conversations this way?
My father was slaughtered by a six-fingered man.
He was a great sword maker, my father.
When the six-fingered man appeared and requested a special sword, my father took the job.
He slaved a year before he was done.
I’ve never seen its equal.
The six-fingered man returned and demanded it, but at one-tenth his promised price.
My father refused.
Without a word, the six-fingered man slashed him through the heart.
I loved my father.
So, naturally, I challenged his murderer to a duel.
I failed.
The six-fingered man leave me alive.
But he gave me this.
How old were you?
I was 11 years old.
When I was strong enough, I dedicated my life to the study of fencing.
So, the next time we meet, I will not fail.
I will go up to the six-fingered man and say, “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
