Chapter Five
Franco spaced his index finger and his thumb in a way that, from a distance, it appeared as though Bubby’s head was between them. Bubby then placed his hands so that it appeared as though they were between Franco’s fingers. As Franco squeezed his fingers together, in an attempt squish Bubby’s head, Bubby spread his hands apart to prevent this from occurring. They both struggled, but Bubby managed to save his head from an uncomfortable predicament. They switched positions and Franco then saved his head from destruction. Realizing that this way of fighting wouldn’t work, they ended it.
Instantly a sharp, thick-bladed sword appeared in Franco’s grasp. “Spanish steel,” Franco said plainly, holding it up. “Much stronger than your native blends; care to hold it?”
“Would I?!” Bubby said ecstatically.
“Well too bad.”
“Aww, please?” Bubby said sadly.
“No.”
“Come on. What did I ever do to you?”
“Nope,” said Franco, shaking his head.
“I won’t hurt it, I promise.”
“No way, Jose.”
“Come on. Don’t make me beg,” Bubby said, getting on his hands and knees.
“No, no, no. No. No. No. No, no, no, no. No!”
Bubby gave him a pitiful puppy dog face and sniffled sadly.
“Okay,” Franco said, relenting. He handed the sword over to Bubby, who rubbed his fingers over the surface and basked in the glory of holding it in his hands.
As soon as Franco motioned to give the sword back, Bubby held it tight and close to his body. Franco was persistent, and slowly Bubby handed over the sword. After a moment, Bubby was over his sorrow and he drew his own sword. Bubby didn’t like the picture he had drawn, so he pulled out his real sword.
“Let it begin,” threatened Franco.
“I haven’t even begun to fight,” shouted Bubby.
“That’s because we haven’t begun yet.”
“I knew there was a reason,” Bubby said confidently.
With a few swings of their swords, the fight was on. Just when it appeared as though Franco would win, Bubby would come back, and vice versa.
After a few hours of fighting on the building, they moved down to the streets. Later on, they moved back to the roofs, since there were too many obstacles on the streets. Soon, the clock tower bell rang two o’clock.
“Tea time!” they cried in eager unison. Faster than light itself, they had set up a table with tea and crumpets on it.
“Tea?” Franco offered, very dignified.
“Yes,” Bubby said as Franco poured him some. “Sugar?” Bubby offered kindly.
“Two please,” said Franco. Bubby then proceeded to place two cubes in both his cup, as well as Franco’s.
As they drank their tea, and ate their crumpets, they became engrossed in deep conversation.
“…Frankly, I believe she looked much better before she cut her hair short,” said Bubby.
“I don’t think it’s all that bad. I don’t know, I guess I’m just kind of a sucker for women who look so professional. I think she’s kind of cute.”
“Surely you’re not serious.”
“I am, and quit calling me Shirley.”
“I’m so very sorry, please accept my deepest apologies,” Bubby said humbly.
“It’s quite all right for now, but don’t make it a habit.”
“You have my word. Hey, what does the writing on your shirt say?”
“Nothing, it can’t talk,” Franco chuckled to himself.
“No, I meant, what does ‘tais toi, de bile!’ mean?”
“Shut up, stupid!”
“That wasn’t very nice. Now tell me what it means.”
“Shut up, stupid,” he said definitely.
“You’re starting to tick me off. Now I’ll give you one last chance, what does it really mean, Franco?”
“It literally means ‘shut up, stupid!’ I’m serious.”
“Oh. Well just color my face red. Here I thought you were calling me stupid. I’m sure sorry.”
“I was doing both,” explained Franco.
“Okay then!”
They looked over at the clock and noticed, with a definite sadness, how the time had seemed to pass by them so quickly.
“Tea time is over,” they moaned in depressed unison.
“I guess we’ll have to fight again,” said Bubby.
“Yep.”
They were soon over their sadness, and pulled out their swords. They fought with all their might, mind, and strength; yet neither could manage to overcome the other.
They fought over the night and throughout the next night, and the one after that, and the night after that, and the next one after that (somebody stop me!), and so on and so forth. The only breaks either took were to eat, never to sleep. By the end of all these conversations, they knew practically everything about each other.
Finally, one sunny day, they got sensible and quit fighting.
Breathing heavily, Bubby said, “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”
“I’m totally with you on that, man. What do you say about ending the fight?”
“Who won then? I mean, somebody has to win. Throughout all history, no evil person and good guy has ever quit fighting until someone has won. We can’t end that streak now.”
There was a pause as both sought after a solution to their problem.
“I’ve got it!” Franco cried out. “We can have a battle of the minds.”
“Meaning?”
“The first one who answers incorrectly is entitled to being mercilessly slaughtered by the other.”
“I’m cool with it if you are,” agreed Bubby.
“I go first, spell ‘gnarly’ for me.”
“Gnarly. G-N-A-R-L-Y.”
“How did you know that?”
“I figured it out in my head and then spelled it out for you.”
“That almost seems like cheating—having the answers hidden in your head—but, okay. Now ask me one,” said Franco.
“Uh, okay. Uh, without using a calculator, what is the square root of 5693?”
“Umm. Ummm. Ummmm. Ummmmm,” Franco struggled.
“Excuse me, are you deaf? I asked you a question and I have learned that it is only proper that I receive an answer. Now what is the square root of 5693?”
“I’m thinking, okay? Might it be approximately 75.451971?”
Bubby thumped his head with his palm in surprise. “How did you know that?!”
“Let us just say that I have a gift for the knowledge of Calculus-based Physics. I guess it just kind of runs in the family.”
Ignoring the fact that physics had absolutely nothing to do with finding the square root of a number, they continued questioning one another. Days and nights passed by with no ending in sight for this great battle of the minds. Perhaps we should check in on the ongoing of this long procession of events, now in its ninth day.
“Tell me, Franco, what is Calculus?” Bubby asked, hoping to stump him.
“Calculus is the root of all evil,” Franco explained calmly and profoundly.
“And here I thought I was the only living being to know that!”
“Which weighs more, a pound of gold, or a pound of feathers?”
“They happen to both weigh the same.” (Some foolish people might argue the truth and underlying logic of that statement. That’s just plain crazy talk though!)
On, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on (somebody please stop me!), went the battle of the minds. They almost neared the point when they were willing to resort to violence once more and fight one another. Shall we join in on the moment?
“Ninja Zord power now!” shouted Bubby.
“Huh?” said Franco, getting a look of shear terror on his face.
“Joke is on you, my brother! Ha, ha, ha! You didn’t think that I was as cool as those Power Rangers were, did you? Man, you are so gullible. They can’t bring out the zords until the monste
r is the size of a large skyscraper. Although I haven’t been able to figure out why they don’t just bring them out while the monster is small so they can squish the monster flat. It isn’t like they have to waste a whole half hour developing a lame plot.”
Realizing however that no one wins in a fight, they continued to challenge each other’s minds.