Lady Bonds shall resume her normal posting habits shortly. Comments welcome.
"You don't become a philosophy student to breathe in the fresh air."
--Former Secret Agent
"You don't become a philosophy student to breathe in the fresh air."
--Former Secret Agent
posted by Lady Bonds at 01:07
3 Comments:
If you want to breathe fresh air, I would also recommend not majoring in Animal Husbandry.
Or Lentil Wifery, as some of us colonials have most ill-advisedly (but oh-so-tastily) done of late...
Since it's really too much work to get one's own blog up and running, and since Lady Bonds is so desperately overwrought with her present philosophical conundrums, the Duchess has decided to become a squatter in Lady Bonds' blog until the authorities are called in to forcibly evict her.
Which leads her to her first post: Ode to an Open Sewer in the Basement.
It was brought to the Duchess' attention early Wednesday morning that her basement floor was covered in water. Upon gathering up her many skirts and descending into the bowels of her estate, the Duchess discovered that lo! 'Twas a veritable inundation of rank liquid, burbling up from a recess in the floor into which excess water is intended to DESCEND, NOT issue forth!
Multiple telephone conferences with the Landlady and the Landlady's plumber, "Merge" (yes, Merge) ensued.
The Landlady subsequently presented herself at the Duchess' chambers, around 7:00 in the evening. She accompanied the Duchess down to the lagoon in the basement, and hark! all the water had vanished!
In its place, there remained various bits of grime and suspicious-looking sediment.
As well as a medium-sized, rather plump and robust Turd.
Now, under normal circumstances, the presence of this Turd would have provided empirical evidence of one seemingly indisputable fact: that the previously mentioned Flood-Waters had issued from a Blocked or otherwise Impeded Sewer Pipe.
But herein lieth the mystery:
There exists a small metal grate over the drainage hole in the basement floor. Said plate doth have cavities through which water may pass, but said cavities are most indubitably too close together for a Rotund and Radiant Turd such as the one found Glistening on the floor next to the grate to issue forth whilst remaining Whole and Magnificent in its Roundness.
So the mystery groweth: From whence dost issue yon Turd?
Landlady and Duchess alike fell mute with wonderment.
"How could it be!" exclaimed the Duchess.
"From what rectum might it plunge to such depths?" intrigued the Landlady.
An awed silence descended upon the two fair maidens, punctuated only by the guttural noises of the Landlady's toy pug dog, Brioche, strangling itself whilst straining against its Leash in an attempt to Reach and Devour the Delectable Turd.
Finally a hushed voice cut the silence:
"Perhaps," said the Duchess in Low and Reverent tones, "Perhaps we have witnessed a Miracle!"
The Landlady nodded with the sobriety appropriate to such an Occasion.
"Perhaps," concurred the Landlady. "Or perhaps..." she mused quietly, "Perhaps you've been Visited."
Pause.
"Yes. Visited. By Mr. Hanky The Christmas Poo!"
Lähetä kommentti
<< Home