239

I found Young Loomis eating the foie gras between two slices of spongy bread, slathered with white sauce. Any dyspepsia he experiences is of his own creation, and I look forward to extracting the cost from his wage.

Akin to the most irksome of French farces, just as I was reorienting Josette, who should come traipsing about but young Master David Collins.  David?  Hardly a name for a Collins.  But we live in times with more expansive views on marriage between cultures, and bully for that.  I digress.  We entered into a bit of a word duel over whether or not Josette were in the house, he thinking ghost, me thinking girl.  Tiring of it, I sent him scampering along.

BC

Advertisements

1 Comments ↓

One Comment on “239”

  1. mrsgreenhands June 7, 2013 at 10:11 pm #

    Reblogged this on Mrsgreenhands’s Weblog.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Chapters


%d bloggers like this: