Delilah put on her veil with quick hands. “I am ever so glad this day has come!” she near shouted at Lord Mandrake who was sitting still as a pheasant at dusk.
Lord Mandrake coughed with an “urhum” that was meant to represent his absolute disinterest in the conversation. However, Delilah – ever the muliebrous lollard – continued on in the spastic accent of a young poorly educated lady that has totally and completely abandoned her reserve.
“This is going to be the greatest day of my life, My Lord. Imagine me marrying your son Whimbly. Oh glory day! Glory, glory, day!”
Lord Mandrake coughed again. He then pulled out the latest edition of the Tattler and sunk into the jubilant ribaldry of Addison’s latest treatise on the state of Incongruous Discontinuity. Oh and what a merry treatise it was. Lord Mandrake’s laughter quickly filled the room. Eventually the treatise grew so overpowering that lord Mandrake’s eyes were filled with pearly tears.
“This Treatise!” Lord Mandrake shouted overwhelmed, “Is like an incendiary explosive device that I imagine will be invented years from now.”
“What?” replied Delilah
“This Treatise!” Lord Mandrake shouted, “Is like the fecal matter of any manner of animal!”
“What are you talking about?” Delilah asked confused.
“If this treatise was a fair lady, I would copulate in its genitalia.”
“Lord Mandrake!”
“Damnation! Damnation! This treatise, is totally and completely removed from the adamantine linkages that bind Lucifer to hell.”
“Lord Mandrake, I think you’ve gone far enough.”
“Shut your mouth, female-dog creature before I show you the firmness of my back hand. I would slap you like a purveyor of women if it twere’ to my advantage. Mark me! Mark Me!”
Delilah covered her eyes with her hands to shield her tears from Lord Mandrake’s visage. “Why must you always act in such a manner, My lord,” Delilah choked through tears, “Sometimes I do believe I hate you.”
Lord Mandrake got up from his chair very slowly: his sparkling satin pantaloons rubbing together were creating the acoustical effect of swishing. Lord Mandrake positioned his ludicrous cheetah skin hat on his head, grabbed his golden walking cane, and approached Delilah.
“Don’t hate the individual who decides to join into the pleasures of organized play,” Mandrake said slowly and carefully, “Hate, instead, the game that causes your discontent.”
Mandrake left the room. Delilah shocked at his untamed manner and furious at his display of contempt shouted after him, “Well fuck you too, you shit-breathed motherfucker!”
~Falcon Heene
