The Short Saga of Pickwick and Pudding
Alkelda:
The Duchess Pudding of Yorkshire paced back and forth in front of the window. “You must go now!” she said to the Baron of Pickwick. “I cannot fathom what will happen if you do not flee.” She brought her hands up to the lace fichu* that quivered above her heaving bosom.
Bede:
“I don’t have time for that now,” said the Baron. “I am just about to prove the theory of time travel. So stop your sobbing and pull that switch. I’m off to the Pleistocene.”
“You cannot leave me in this way!” the Duchess cried. “It would be a cruel, heartless thing for you to do. Take me with you, let us hie and away.”
At that moment, three Morlocks** burst through the picture window, guns blazing. Baron Pickwick unsheathed his 12 gauge, felling two of the monsters in a single motion. “Harriet,” he shouted, “My saber!”
“But Nigel!” the Duchess said, “You’re bleeding. How can you go on this way? We must flee from the Morlocks before my husband returns with his drinking fellows from the Naughty Hellfire Tavern.” She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed the Baron’s bleeding arm.
He plucked the handkerchief from her hand and pushed a pistol into its place. “Hold them off while I tighten the hydrospanner,”*** he shouted.
She gingerly took the pistol from his outstretched hand. “I do not know if I can do this,” she said. She closed her eyes, and fired.
With a shout of “Eureka!” the Baron pulled the lever and they went off to the Pleistocene for many further adventures with dinosaurs.
(There are no living dinosaurs in the Pleistocene!)
(Maybe there are no dinosaurs in the Pleistocene now, but since I have a time-machine, I can put dinosaurs there.)
End of the Silliness
Notes:
*If you're going to write a historical romance story, you need to put a fichu in somewhere.
**How can you have a time-travel story without Morlocks?
***If you're going to write a science-fiction story, it's just not complete without a reference to a hydrospanner.
11 comments:
Beautiful! Thank you.
When feeling impatient with something I'm doing, the Lone Star Girl will say "My children's children's children's children will be running from the morlocks by the time you..."
Hee hee. Laughed quietly at my desk at the early arrival of Earth's dinosaurs. Thanks for the Friday sillines.
Galatea, Cute Little Box, Andrew, Lone Star Ma, and Lori:
Thank you. I am so glad you enjoyed the story. I was a bit down in the dumps yesterday with a 32 hour headache (no exaggeration), and I asked Bede to write the tandem story with me. By the end of the story, I was chuckling. I'd recommend trying it sometime (or putting on an impromptu puppet show) when you're a bit blue-- doing something silly doesn't solve the problem, but it helps to shift the focus a bit. Miracle of miracles, my headache finally abated. Huzzah.
I'm glad you are better!
Thanks, Lone Star Ma. By the way, you have a proper email coming to you sometime soon. I need to work on the "halib" article for your zine plus the catalog for the Boyer Children's Clinic auction (shameless plug here! Boyer needs procurement items for people who like to be spendy for a good cause, and even my most valuable piece of jewelry wouldn't make the cut. Someday, when I'm rich, Boyer is going to get a big chunk of change from the secret coffers of AtG.)
Are you writing the catalogue?
Lone Star Ma--
I am writing it in the sense that they want something J.Peterman-esque. The basic descriptions are there, but I need to make it appealing. So far, I've been a bit whooshy-dramatic, and need to edit quite a bit. To wit:
Silver Bracelet with Garnets
The ballroom was filled with taffeta and tulle. The ladies wore uncomfortable high-heeled shoes with rhinestone buckles, and the gentlemen surreptitiously tugged at their scratchy lace cravats. Over at the punch table, a woman stood with a glass in her hand. Her burgundy cotton dress gently swirled as she moved. Upon her feet, she wore black ballet slippers. As the woman lifted her glass toward the light, the silver bracelet upon her wrist sparkled with garnets. Suddenly, the ballroom seemed more welcoming. The women kicked off their shoes, the men loosened their cravats, and the guests began to dance.
When the music paused, someone ventured to ask the woman, “What is your secret?”
The woman replied, “I always wear what I love."
Sterling silver bracelet with 135 dazzling garnets (40 cts total).
Value: $250.00
Well, I adore your description, but it might confuse people who are not of a literary humor, I guess(:
How wonderful that you are doing that! I never even thought of such a service that a writer could do...really cool!
Lone Star Ma,
But, but, hasn't everyone gone through a J. Peterman catalog reading phase? Hmmm. Guess not. I'll have to dig up a copy of the letter I sent to J. Peterman, and his response. :)
What we'll do, Bede and I, is write a few more entries and then send them into Boyer. If they want us to tone it down, we will. So it goes!
Oh, I hope they won't! That one is so great! It would make them an even neater establishment if they used them!
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