Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Lapdogs and Lunatics

This morning, armed with determination and a slight headache, I sought the person or persons responsible for my incarceration. There was no fire iron available so I stunned Sven (my guard) with a judicious swing of a bucket boot and found myself in a subterranean maze, the which (I am informed) resembles nothing so much as The Writer's Mind. My captors call it The Lair.

Romantic heroes and heroines abound here, as well as shady characters not yet fully formed in their creators' thoughts--all in various stages of Falling In Love. And my goodness, all of them have a story. I was vastly relieved when Mrs. Christine Wells came to extricate me from their embarrassing disclosures and told me why I was here.

Mrs. Wells was quite unsympathetic when I told her of my headache, and said that I'd been giving her a headache for nigh on a year and it was time I repaid her for all the pain I'd caused. Nothing but a troublemaker, she grumbled, and manhandled me into a chair. [A woman of discernment, apparently. ~Ed.]

The chair sat before a desk of rather crude but practical design. And on the desk was the strangest thing. I could have sworn she said it was a lapdog, and I stared at her, for clearly, she was mad. The contraption bore no resemblance to my aunt's Pug, but it is common knowledge that one must humour lunatics, so I merely nodded and smiled. Mrs. Wells has the queerest accent--worse than Sven's. One cannot understand the half of what she says. However, one thing I am clear about--one can write on these lapdogs, apparently. It has all these little buttons with letters on them that reproduce themselves on the screen. Quite ingenious! Mrs. Wells showed me how to use it and I proved myself adept.

I must say, the border she made for me is quite pretty, although the lady at that desk in the corner looks nothing like me and she is quite a dowd besides. But I shall make do. It is not easy to remember the steps I must follow on this mysterious machine, nor to make words from letters with one finger at a time, so I trust you will forgive me if I err. Mrs. Wells says that next she will show me how to Add Pictures, which sounds vastly exciting.

I hope no one else reads this lapdog, as when writing journals I have a horrible tendency to lose myself in them and the result is often indiscreet. I wonder what this button called 'Publish Post' does . . .

16 comments:

jo robertson said...

Hehehehehe, you ARE a clever, evil genious, Miss Wells! Lapdog, indeed.

What a lovely blog page!

Joan said...

Demetrius is very jealous of Sven....

Anna Campbell said...

Lady Kate, you are a woman of wit and discernment. And please, take a sip of this madeira full of truth serum...

(Several nefarious moments later)

NOW TELL US THE NAUGHTY STUFF, CHIT!

Natalie Hatch said...

Oh Anna I thought you would at least offer her a nice cup of tea, a biscuit and a hanky laced with laudanum. Manners count you know, it's not Guantanamo.. or is it? We'll have to ask Christine.

Annie West said...

Lady Kate, beware the persons offering you alcohol. Instinct tells me their intentions are not what they ought to be.

Now, if perhaps you could tell us more about your previous journals, we might all spend a contented hour or two.

Lady Kate said...

My goodness, MORE people! I shall speak to Mrs. Wells at once.

Christine Wells said...

Hello everyone, sorry about this. I know I brought her to the lair to punish her, but she's more trouble here than she was on the page. ::rubs eyes in a defeated fashion:: What is it now?

[I could have told you she'd be nothing but trouble, but you went and kidnapped her anyway.~Ed.]

Listen, Your Grace, you're Lady Kate's editor, not mine, so stubble it! I have enough trouble with those women in New York without you sticking your oar in.

Oh, she wants an introduction. Lady Kate, meet my friends. Friends, Lady Kate. Satisfied?

Lady Kate said...

Clearly, Mrs. Wells, you need instruction on matters of etiquette! But if one must exist among savages, one must make the best of it, I fear.

Good evening, ladies! Who is this Demetrius and why is he jealous of Sven? Does he wish to be hit with a bucket boot too?

Naughty stuff? Miss Campbell, what has Lyle been telling you? And I detest madeira. I prefer those pretty drinks Sven called Six on the Beach. Six of what, I wonder. But they were very good.

Now, Miss West, I believe in you I have an ally. I shall take your advice, indeed I shall. Just as soon as I've had Sven pour me another Six.

Christine Wells said...

Guantanamo sounds appealing right about now. Thanks for the compliment on the blog, Jo! No doubt Lady Kate will redecorate as soon as she learns how;)

Tina C said...

What a great idea Mrs Wells and Lady Kate!

Can't wait to see more.

Bye 4 now
Tina
http://www.tinamclark.com
http://www.cyaconference.com

flchen1 said...

Oh, Christine, you are TOO clever! Very nice!!

Annie West said...

Ah, Lady Kate, I fear it may be too late. Avoid drinks with little umbrellas in them, or adornments of fruit. And definitely avoid anything with 'six' in the title...

Mrs Wells, surely you have a duty of care here. I'm surprised at you.

Perhaps you should send Sven over here to keep me company for a while.

Christine Wells said...

Annie wrote: Mrs Wells, surely you have a duty of care here. I'm surprised at you.

Hey, I'm not the one doling out margaritas like lolly water!

Hmm, I might have to bring Lyle over. He can always manage to be very...persuasive, where Kate is concerned.

Oh, and I'm sending Sven right over, Annie. He'll give you the full treatment!

Loucinda McGary aka Aunty Cindy said...

Shame on you, Miss Wells! You must be keeping Lady Kate in the very bowels of the Lair if she hasn't yet encountered the cabana boys, the armory, or the baaaaar!

And who left a spare bucket boot lying about? Must Aunty remind everyone that the cabana boys are not maids, except for those special alternate Thursdays...

Aunty Cindy

Annie West said...

Ah, Christine, thank you! I've just come down with a rotten cold and (who'd have thought it?) Sven's massages are very relaxing. Really! And he makes a mean hot chocolate on a cold wintry day too. Hoping he can stay till I'm recovered and he can introduce me to those 'six' drinks of his.

Annie

Lady Kate said...

Cabana boys? Did someone mention cabana boys? What are they, pray?

Miss West, I am sorry you are feeling poorly. I hope it does not develop into a Putrid Sore Throat! So that is where Sven has been! Relaxing, you say? Is that what these massages are? Hmm. Perhaps I ought to try one myself...