18 August 2012
"How very dare you Sir" said Lord Chickenlimb. "How dare you steal my betrothed?". Lord Chickenlimb was a great man of stature, his height emphasised by his reliance on stilts that we're attached to his platform boots. "You have stolen my betrothed, stole her like a thief who had stolen things illegally in the night without being seen but this time I saw you. I saw you with my one good eye and my other good eye, you steal like a thief and I say to you Sir, I bite my thumb at you Sir, damn you, damn you all to hell".
Lord Chickenlimb could not hold back his displeasure. The hurt that the man before him, Major Sir Lord Oxo-Cubesmakegravy, had caused was unbearable. Major Sir Lord Oxo-Cubesmakegravy was not a tall man of stature, he was extremely tall. His tallness was emphasised by the smallness of Lord Chickenlimbs not very big furniture. He struggled to find the words to retort to this accusation but then, just then, he remembered something important. "It were not me Sir, oh, my incorrect accuser. You have lost your dignity, shame on you Sir, shame on your pigeons and shame on your kitchen. You crazy fool, you lost your wife to a bag of crazed gooses back in the summer of 29 when it fell on her". Major Sir Lord Oxo-Cubesmakegravy looked at Lord Chickenlimb awaiting a response. "Ah yes" he replied "I remember it now. It was the year Old Mable lost her tooth in the fight with Young Mable, my, how time flys". And they both lived happily ever after each other.
The End bit.
It's Getting Late But I Don't Mind. • Opuss № I