Strange Conversations: Part Two Hundred and Sixty-Four

Believe it or not, this conversation (over IM) started when Nick revealed he hadn’t told me that he already knew about the man who tried to pay his bills with a picture of a spider.

ME: Oh. Consider my bubble burst.

NICK: Oh! Sorry!

ME: All the joy is gone from life.

NICK: Bloody hell, that was easy. I wasn’t even trying.

ME: The world is turning gray around me . . .

NICK: Is it getting cold? So cold?

ME: Why’s everything going fuzzy? Oh, wait, I’m listening to Grant Lee Buffalo.

NICK: Ah! Well, there you go.

ME: You’re not my boyfriend! Who’s using your computer? I mean, his computer.

NICK: Sorry? What have I done? OMG?! Bananas!

ME: My own boyfriend wouldn’t taunt me like that. I know it for sure. He’s a gentle soul.

NICK: That’s true. Darn it, foiled again!

ME: Well, who are you, then?

NICK: I am the Dread Pirate Roberts.

ME: Which one?

NICK: Not the latest one. One of the earlier, less English ones.

ME: The latest one is Inigo Montoya.

NICK: Hmm. Not the one before last either, then.

ME: So not Inigo Montoya and not Westley?

NICK: Nope. The one before the one before the one before last.

ME: Hang on. How did the Dread Pirate Roberts get on my boyfriend’s Gmail account?

NICK: I scuttled his ship and took his passwords. He’s my cabin boy now. I shall probably kill him in the morning.

ME: He had a ship? He told me he was a web designer!

NICK: He told me he ran away to sea to find you a nice book to read.

ME: That doesn’t sound like him, at all.

NICK: I could tell he was lying. But about what, I could not tell.

ME: Are you sure that’s my boyfriend you’ve got as a cabin boy?

NICK: He is bald and wears glasses.

ME: So are many men who are replete with testosterone. Except for the glasses.

NICK: He said something about repleteness just before I defeated him in a duel.

ME: Oh. That’s definitely my boyfriend, then. Is he coming back for his birthday party?

NICK: I tire swiftly of him but his foolishness has put me out of the mood for killing. I shall release him to you this afternoon.

ME: Hang on—I know you! You’re Atlas! Atlas pretending to be Dread Pirate Roberts! Oh, the layers upon layers.

NICK: My cunning but overly complex plan is revealed! I must away with me to my space castle.

ME: Well, can you drop him off at Indooroopilly, if you’ve got your space castle? It saves me picking him up from work.

NICK: This baby doesn’t do reverse. Or left turns.

ME: Is a giant circuit of the Earth out of the question? He doesn’t have to be there for a couple of hours.

NICK: Can’t talk; just been boarded by Space Pirate Harlock.

ME: Right—watch out for the giant switchblade he keeps in the prow of his ship.

NICK: Yes, that did a number on my space-shrubbery.