Tag Archives: farce

Unfortunate


In the unfortunate aftermath of the super monkey shenanigans, I retreated into my shell. No one enjoyed monkey overlords, even less so their creator. I locked the doors, bolted the windows, climbed down into my cellar-cum-bunker and watched daytime television.
The real issue came when the super monkeys took over the chat shows. They were rubbish. Who wanted to know why one neighbour wouldn’t share his bananas with another? Not I.
I made my mind up to fight back. No more mister nice guy.
My cellar rang with the hammer blows of creation. It took weeks to create the super sloths. They were my shining, scientific moment, my epitaph. They would unleash righteous vengeance on those damn monkeys and I’d be there to take the plaudits.
I would’ve, if it hadn’t taken them three months to climb up the stairs!

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Of Headwear and Social Etiquette 

Of Headwear and Social Etiquette.

A Perkin Perkins Steampunk romp.

Another social gathering at Buckingham Palace and manservant to the Royal Household, Perkin Perkins, is on yet another hiding to nothing.
“Poopkins,” sighed Her Majesty.
“Perkins, Ma’am.”
“Since when?”
“All my life, Ma’am.”
“Then why change it?”
“I haven’t, Ma’am.”
“Then why did I address you as Plopkins?”
“You didn’t, Ma’am. You addressed me as Poopkins.”
“Are they not the same?”
“Only if you say so.”
Queen Victoria tapped brass fingers on her steel plate jaw. “Then, I do.”
“As you wish, Ma’am.”
“So, Porkins, tell me. Why is that gentleman wearing his underpants on his head?”
“I cannot be sure they are his.”
“And why not?”
“He’s French, Ma’am.”
“Does that explain anything?” The Queen’s eyes blazed ruby anger from behind her owllike goggles.
“The French are very particular. To some they are trendsetters, to others, not. The onus is on the viewer to decide which shoe fits.”
“I was addressing his headwear not footwear.”
“A term, Ma’am. Merely a term.”
“Do we as Britannia’s finest think him a fool?”
“Oh, indeed we do, Ma’am. I can only speak as a humble servant, but I should imagine there anarchy if you were to don such a hat.”
Queen Victoria removed her horsehair wig, scratched at the metal beneath and replaced it at a jaunty angle. “Any ideas, Porkling?”
“I could have him politely ejected, I do speak French.”
“Can you be discreet?”
“Always, Ma’am.”
“Then do it, and don’t return until he’s off the property.”
Perkins bowed low and marched over to the giant of a man in question, his walrus moustache the only feature of note protruding from his underpants headwear. A whisper in his ear, inaudible to all else, and the Frenchman set to gesticulating, as is their way. Once he’d had enough, he allowed Perkins to lead him from the room and away from a hundred prying eyes, the gentry and usual toffs allowing their upraised noses to communicate their displeasure.
Only when long gone did the Chief Scientist of the Ministry for Empirical Advancement, one Sir Magnus Monk, sidle over to his monarch.
“What is it, Monk?” Snapped the Queen.
“We appear to be missing Sir Belvedere, Your Highness.”
“He is too tall to misplace, Master Monk. I suggest you look again. His moustache stands out at thirty paces, so it shouldn’t be hard even for you. And hurry up about it, too. I know he hates these shindigs, but it’s no excuse for non-attendance.”
Sir Magnus sidled off in his Quasimodo way, aquiline nose to the ground and hump raised.
He said he searched everywhere much to his monarch’s anger when he eventually returned. And to be fair, he had. Other than the Palace’s cellars, a cold, dark place where a man with a walrus moustache sat drinking with a manservant, both of whom wore their underpants on their heads.

The Teacup Keep-up Farce.

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“The most fun I’ve ever had with a teacup was kicking one up in the air like a football for as long as I could.”

“A teacup?”

“Yes, a teacup.”

“How many keep-ups did you manage?”

“How many what?”

“Keep-ups. That’s what they call it when you keep a football in the air. I presume it’s the same for a teacup.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. So?”

“So what?”

“It’s a struggle today, isn’t it?”

“Every day is a struggle.”

“That’s life.”

“S’ppose.”

“Makes you want to kick a teacup up in the air.”

“Exactly! That’s exactly it. You just want to boot the hell out of it.”

“Which brings us nicely back full-circle.”

“It does.”

“So, just how many teacup keep-ups did you manage?”

“One, then it smashed.”

“And that’s the end of another sparkling conversation.”

“It was the end of my drink, too.”

“You mean, you didn’t empty the teacup first.”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I didn’t have time, I was kicking it at a seagull.”

“I thought you said you was trying to keep it up in the air?”

“I was. The seagull was flapping overhead trying to snatch my sandwich. I hoped to keep kicking the teacup in the air to scare it off.”

“Geez! It must’ve really wanted that sandwich.”

“Yeah, it must’ve.”

“What was in it?”

“Seagull chicks.”

“You what!”

“Honest. They’re full of protein. I think I should’ve cooked them first though.”

“Let me get this straight, you were kicking a teacup at a seagull that was trying to rescue its chicks from a seagull sandwich.”

“That’s right.”

“Dare I ask where?”

“You can ask.”

“Then where?”

“Your back garden.”

“When?”

“Last Friday. They were squawking like mad and putting me off. So, I went up on the roof to shut them up, then brought them back down for a snack.”

“But I was at work last Friday!”

“Your wife wasn’t.”

50 Word Stories: It’s All Chinese

"I've bought you a bamboo plant because I've heard they bring good luck," said Jane.
I took it, tripped putting it on the window ledge and banged my face on the sideboard.
"And that must be how pandas get black eyes," I growled rubbing my nose.
"Well, it's all Chinese."

#FarcicalFriday — A Very English Disagreement

FarcicalFriday — A Very English Disagreement

A: “The distance between brilliance and foolery is a small one.”

B: “How small?”

A: “Oh, I should say about a yard.”

B: “That’s rather exact.”

A: “I delight in exactitudes.”

B: “I see.”

A: “Do you?”

B: “No.”

A: “I see.”

B: “And how close to this yard’s worth of exactness are you?”

A: “I am within its diameter.”

B: “And I?”

A: “Several miles away.”

B: “Thank you.”

A: “You are most welcome.”

B: “And where are the greater populace positioned?”

A: “Somewhere between us both.”

B: “I see. So you imply although I am your business partner, I am, in fact, a borderline fool.”

A: “Imply is such a vague word.”

B: “Then?”

A: “You are a fool. Without the borders, I might add.”

B: “Thank you.”

A: “You are most welcome.”

B: “Would I be correct in assuming you wish our partnership ended?”

A: “For a fool, you are surprisingly adept. A little of your old self shines through.”

B: “Thank you.”

A: “You are most welcome.”

B: “And?”

A: “I should, in as simpler terms as I can muster, ask to be disassociated with your good self.”

B: “I see. Starting?”

A: “Immediately.”

B: “This very second?”

A: “Indeed.”

B: “This instant?”

A: “This very instant.”

B: ”And we drove all this way out here to have this discussion?”

A: “Again, your perception is almost back to its best.”

B: “Thank you.”

A: “You’re welcome.”

B: “So we’re over?”

A: “I should say so.”

B: “Then I bid you good day, sir.”

A: “And you.”

B: “Thank you.”

A: “I’m glad cordiality remains.”

B: “Of course. Now, if you could possibly close the car door, I shall be on my way.”

SLAM!

A: “Goodbye, my old, inferior friend, enjoy the rest of your miserable life.”

B: “And you enjoy your twenty mile walk.”

A: “Damn, I may be the wrong side of this debate.”

B: “Yes, about a yard.”