the saga of the boy with hooves, pt. 2

Today we follow up with a continuation of the wildly unpopular dialogue piece about some very questionable British nobles.

mredBatilda: (Waving a spoon abover her head) Ohh! This tomato bisque is to die for!
*Reginald barges into the dining room, slightly out of breath*
Reginald: Eh-hmmm! Sir Reginald Hunt-
Batilda: Oh enough! I know it is you Reginald. Honestly, I’ve never understood why you insist on introducing yourself every time you step in a doorway. Additionally, why is it you have barged into my dining room? I’m enjoying a splendid tomato bisque lunch.
Reginald: Well, you see, it is that confounded butler of yours again.
Batilda: My butler? Again Reginald?
Reginald: Oh my, that bisque certainly does look enjoyable. I fear my nephew would despise it though.
Batilda: (drops her spoon in frustration) Reginald! On with it. Every second you stall my bisque grows colder.
Reginald: My lady, I fear your appetite might soon fade as well once you hear what I have to tell.
(Batilda shakes her head and groans)
Reginald: Yesterday morning I rose and commenced to my own dining room to partake in what was supposed to be a peaceful breakfast. I was reviewing a recent paper when the food was set down and when I looked I noticed something peculiar. The toast had been burnt, the coffee wreaked of alcohol, and the eggs were poorly scrambled.
Batilda: Then it sounds as if you have an amateur cook in your household.
Reginald: Yes, that it is what I first thought. That or perhaps my dim witted nephew took a hand at cooking. So I looked up to face the person serving me this sub par breakfast and found myself looking into the mischievous eyes of your butler. My first reaction was shock quickly followed by disgust once I realized he was wearing nothing more than an apron and a chef’s hat.
Batilda: My word! Can this be true?
Reginald: Oh yes, and someone, presumably the butler, had crudely written “Kiss the Cook” in charcoal on the front of the apron, thus destroying it. As he walked away was the worst of all, I noticed and quickly averted my eyes from his bare bottom walking away.
Batilda: Why that does it! Butler! Come in here at once!
Butler: Yes, m’lady? What is… (see’s Reginald) Oh, it’s you. Come to make some more charges?
Reginald: (Glares back) I will prove that horse faced child is yours.
Batilda: Butler, Reginald here has brought it to my attention that you served him breakfast the other day. In an apron with “Kiss the Cook” written on it.
Butler: Yes, quite true. That is how I advertise.
Batilda: In the nu- wait, advertising? Whatever do you mean Butler? Is there some other lucrative business you are involved with?
Butler: I was merely trying to persuade Sir Reginald into hiring me for part-time Butler services. As a way to bury the hatchet.
(Reginald scoffs)
Reginald: Surely in an attempt to legitimately get into my quarters to murder me.
Batilda: Reginald, don’t be so dramatic. Now Butler, what say you of these charges that you were nude?
Butler: Oh Lady Batilda, I certainly wasn’t nude. You know I never remove my butler wardrobe.
Batilda: (nods, looking to Reginald) It’s true, he tends to sleep in them.
Reginald: Oh this is preposterous! Again you fall for his silver tongue. One of these days I will find a way to prove these accusations true. You’ll see!
Batilda: Thank you for your clarification Butler, you are excused. And Reginald, I must excuse you as well so I may return to this glorious bisque.
(Reginald looks to the Butler who once out of sight of Batilda, makes a throat cutting gesture at Reginald)
Reginald: I will take my leave, but know this Lady Batilda: This will not be the end of my claims against your Butler. I speak only the truth and one day you will see it with your own eyes.
(Batilda begins eating the soup and without looking up waves off Reginald)


4 thoughts on “the saga of the boy with hooves, pt. 2

  1. Truly, Sir Reginald, I am most aggrieved that you would take out an announcement in your nephew’s seedy publication to further slander the good butler’s reputation.

    I find it troubling that you insist on vexing the ears of our good friends and neighbors. I have heard tell that Lady Lucretia has been fraught with nightmare visions ever since you called on her and painted such a graphic picture of what you claim are the butler’s equine misdeeds.

    Every night since, poor Lady Lucretia has dreamt that a man resembling my very own butler, riding naked astride Lady Lucretia’s prized filly, has visited her sleeping quarters and insisted that she play ‘milk the mare’. Most dreadfully indeed, Lady Lucretia confided that this nightmare vision has scant hair on his head, but a long, flowing, horse-like mane of silken curls covering his unmentionables.

    I have had to comfort the poor dear on numerous occasions. She has been hysterical ever since her children Belyle and Winnifred went missing. I don’t know why you insist on upsetting her even further with these sordid tales.

    Sir Reginald, I can only hope that the enthusiasm with which you approach degrading the butler has nothing to do with me encouraging Lady Lucretia and the other fine matrons of the Ladies Auxiliary Freshness Guild to serve tomato bisque at our luncheons, rather than the clam chowder made by your sister-in-law? I assure you this has nothing to do with the rumours accusing her of kidnapping the village children to stir her chowder. I am sure that good lady will find a way to prove her innocence.

    In closing, I pray that you accept the butler as my esteemed servant. I spoke to the butler in earnest and he want to help you recognize his bountiful attributes. He is a spiritual butler and he said that he wishes to lead you to peace. Only, he requested that I spell peace as “piece” and that I refer to it as “his piece”. That silly man needs to work on his spelling and grammar.

    I remain yours sincerely in the cause of acquitting the butler of your indictments,
    Lady Batilda

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