(This was before emergency wards, and that was too bad, at least for North's father, because there was no place to take him after North's punch landed, except his own bed, where he remained with his eyes shut for a day and a half, except for when the milkman came to fix his broken jaw- this was not before doctors, but in Turkey they hadn't gotten around yo claiming the bone business yet; milkmen still were in charge of bones, the logic being that since milk was so good for bones, who would know more about broken bones than a milkman?)
When North's father was able to open his eyes as much as he wanted, they had a family talk, the three of them.
"You're very strong, North," his father said. (Actually that wasn't strictly true. What his father meant was, 'you're very strong, North.' What came out was more like this: "zzz'zz zzzz zzzzzz zzzzzzz." Ever since the milkman had wired his jaws together, all he could manage was the letter z. But he had a very expressive face, and his wife understood him perfectly.)
"Hey says 'You're very strong, North."
"I thought I was," North answered. "Last year I hit a tree once when I was mad. I knocked it down. It was a small tree but still, I figured that had to mean something."
"Z'z zzzzz zz zzzzz z zzzzzzzzz, zzzzz."
"He says he's giving up being a carpenter, North."
"Oh no," North said. "You'll be all well soon. Daddy; the milkman practically promised me."
"Z zzzz zz zzzz zz zzzzzz z zzzzzzzzzzz, zzzzz."
"He wants to give up being a carpenter, North."
"But what will he do?"
North side mother answered this one herself; she and her husband had been up half the night ageing on the decision. "He's going to be your manager, North. Fighting is the national sport of Turkey. We're all going to be rich and famous."
"But mummy, daddy, I don't like fighting."
North's father reached out and gently patted his son's knee. "Zz'z zzzzz zz zz zzzzzzzzz," he said.
"It's going to be wonderful," his mother translated.
North only burst out into tears.
They had his first professional match in the village of Sandiki, in a streaming hot Sunday. North's parents had a terrible time getting him into the ring. They were absolutely confident with victory, because they had worked very hard. They had taught North for three solid years before they mutually agreed that he was ready. North's father handled tactics and ring strategy, while his father was more in charge of diet and training, and they have never been happier.
North had never been more miserable. He was scared and frightened and terrified, all rolled into one. Not matter how they reassured him, he refused to enter the area. Because he knew something; even though outside he looked twenty, and his mustachios was already coming along nicely, is die he was still this nine-year-old who liked rhyming things.
"No," he said. "I won't, I won't, and you can't make me."
"After all we slaved for these three years," his father said. (His jaw was almost as good as new now.)
"He'll hurt me!" North said.
"Lifer is pain," his mother said. "Anybody that says differently is selling something."
"Please. I'm not ready. I forgot the holds. I'm not graceful and I fall down a lot. It's true."
It was. Their only real fear was, were they rushing him? "When the going gets tough, the tough gets going," Norths mother said.
YOU ARE READING
The Princess Bride
FanfictionWhen Jamie is sick with the flue on the Christmas holiday's all he can do is play his videos games and eat his meals that his mother has made him. He never planned on his father reading him, a book. This one book was a story that was read to father...
