The Princess Bride

Yesss. Mengele came to America, to New York, because he had to, to save his life.

Brilliant.

I am flying for the next little while because I have solved my most difficult problem and then it hits me— fool!—what kind of a villain is it who's so frail he needs heart surgery? My God, if someone chased him he might keel over from the effort.

Obviously, a couple of years later I figured out some things and wrote the book and wrote the movie and the scene that still works best, along with the dental scene, is Szell wandering among the Jews.

On the terrace that morning I knew I wasn't ready to take on that kind of trip. But this shaping of Buttercup's Baby was a perfect middle step for me. Bringing it to life as I had The Princess Bride would give me the confidence to at last go back to being what I once was.

So I would do the abridgement of the sequel and then do my own novel and ride off into the frigging sunset, thank you very much. Once offices opened for the day I called Charley (still my lawyer) and told him that I wanted more than anything on earth to abridge the sequel and was there any way he thought the Morgenstern estate would put an end to hostilities?

He said the most amazing thing: 'They contacted me today. The Shogs. Kermit's daughter did. She's a young lawyer for the firm, sounded nice and bright, and let me quote her: 'We want to settle for peace with your Mr. Goldman.''

Tennessee said it best: 'Sometimes there's God so quickly.'

I MET KARLOFF Shog the next morning for breakfast in the dining room of the Carlyle Hotel, none prettier in all New York. Charley set it up and decided not to be there, no point, this was a 'look-like' where we would both try on our charm and see if we could do business.

So I sat waiting for her to appear. With a name like Karloff Shog, I figured a mustache was a sure bet and don't even think about her armpits. (In case you don't know—and you don't know, nobody knows stuff like this— Karloff is the most popular girl's name in Florin. Make of that what you will.)

This dreamboat walks in. Mid-thirties, dressed to kill, long loose blonde hair, gorgeous. She comes right over and she holds out her hand. 'Hi, Carly Shog, this is so great meeting you, you look just like the pictures on your books, only, may I say, younger.'

'You may say that as loudly and as often as you want.' I tend to be a little thick-tongued when sweet young things are around, so that was pretty smooth for me. The nutty thing is, at that moment, when we had met on earth for all of ten seconds, I thought she wanted me. 'Want' in the sense of 'desire.' And if you know me at all, you know I don't think anybody ever wants me. Not wants in the sense of desire anyway. 'What brings you to America?'

'We're doing a lot of legal stuff in the States now. I just moved here.' Now a pause. 'Thank God.' She looked at me. 'I can tell you've never been in Florin.' I said I hadn't. 'It's a little inbred. I mean, in Florin if you marry your first cousin, that's considered good.' Another pause. 'An attempt at humor. Sorry.'

I have dated some terrific women since Helen left me a decade past. But this one here, this blue-eyed lawyer with the body and the brains, on any list, was special. She reached across the table then, took my hand—

—Let me run that by you again: she took my hand!

And looked into my eyes and said, 'I'm just so glad our legal troubles are done.'

'It's been awful,' I agreed. 'I was only sued once before in my whole life.' (It's true.) 'And that was by an actor so it doesn't really count.'

Need I tell you her laugh was bell-like? Then, to only improve her bank account came this: 'You won't believe me, but I've read every novel you've ever written. Including the Harry Longbaugh.' (No Way to Treat a Lady was first published under a pseudonym, Harry Longbaugh, the real name of the Sundance Kid.)

I am so in love at this point it is ridiculous. 'The lawsuits your guys filed—you'll drop them?'

'Of course. All thirteen. That's what we're going to do for you, and all we want from you is your goodwill.'

'Goodwill?' If I'd have had an engagement ring with me, it would've been hers.

'Yes. It's so important that Buttercup's Baby be published. Here in America.'

I signaled for coffee and a waiter poured us some. We fiddled with sweetener and low-fat milk and all that other yummy stuff we do to our stomachs these days. We sipped silently. And we looked at each other. Then I said the nuttiest thing: 'How old are you, Carly?'

'How old do you want me to be? I know all about you. I know you were born at Michael Reese Hospital in Chicago on August 12th, 1931. Pretty good?'

I nodded.

She opened her purse then. 'All you have to know is this, Bill. I broke up with my boyfriend when I left Florin City. And he was fifty-five. I have a thing for...' And here she paused, smiled so sweetly. '...for vigorous older men.'

Mark Antony was never this smitten.

She reached into her purse, handed me a piece of paper. 'This is just legal boilerplate. Have your lawyer check it out, then sign it and mail it back to me.'

'What is it?'

'It's called settling for peace. We agree to drop all the lawsuits. You agree that we did nothing wrong, and that you wish us the best on all future projects.'

'I do more than wish you well. I'm going to kill myself doing Buttercup's Baby.'

'Of course you would,' she said then, and do you know the most important six words in the last thirty years in World Culture? I'll tell you what they are. Peter Benchley came up with them when he was walking along a beach and the words were these: 'What if the shark got territorial?' Because out of that came the novel Jaws, and then the movie Jaws, and nothing's really been the same since.

Well, Carly Shog's next six words weren't that important. Except, of course, to me. Before she said them I asked her, 'Why did you say 'Of course you would?' You meant 'Of course you will! I'm doing Buttercup's Baby.'

That moment, waiting for her to speak, looking at the glorious lady, at her pale blue eyes, I remember thinking something weird is going on, something bad, even. But in no paranoid nightmare could I have come up with what she said next:

'Stephen King is doing the abridgement.'

HERE'S WHAT I did not say: 'What's the punch line?' Here's another: 'You're killing me.' Or: 'He'll laugh right in your face.' Try: 'You rotten bitch.' While I was busy saying nothing, Carly went smartly on.

'Here's what we get when you sign that letter: safety. See, you're nowhere near King in terms of sales, no one is, we don't have to go there. But a lot of people connect you with Morgenstern because of the movie and what we don't want is people wondering why you decided not to do the sequel. Goodwill is very important, and we can't have you running around claiming betrayal. I wrote this. I think you can live with it.'

Here's what she put down: 'I'm so excited Stephen King has come on board. Frankly, I'm exhausted as far as Mr. Morgenstern is concerned. So I wish everyone the best. And I don't know about you, but I can't wait to read Buttercup's Baby.'

I looked at her a moment before I spoke. She looked like Bela Lugosi now. 'He won't do it. King. I know him a little, and there's no reason on earth he'd get dragged into something like this.'

'Steve doesn't feel he's getting 'dragged into' anything. He's genuinely excited. We talk every day. Will, 'til everything's finalized.'

'I don't believe you. I don't know what you're after but find another buyer.' I stood up.