Phew! Nearly didn’t make it again! I’m sure glad that we don’t put a new book every week… OK – I’m pretty whacked and in dire need of some blueberry lollipops, ‘cos I still need to make sure the My Little Unicorn herd’s bedded down for the night, so I’m afraid it’s another thing from the back catalogue again. In fact it’s back in Minas Tirith for the stoopid Karaoke party, but a little earlier in the evening. Actually I make no apologies for recycling this – it’s high time everyone knew why I get so mad at Jano. You just never can tell what she’ll do next – especially when you’re supposed to be on covert ops!
Remember, I was supposed to be all gussied up as Telvis Parsley and Jano had gone as Janus Droplin (which was in fact the lesser of two evils if you can believe it!).
“Whadya mean he’s… I mean I’m… dead?!”
The seven-footer person roared at the pub doormen, who had quite naturally assumed he was a Telvis Parsley impersonator, was causing more trouble at the cloakroom after first refusing to hand over his silk lamé iridescent oyster-coloured cape (with diamante detail on the high collar naturally). The bigger of the two doormen eyed the tall personage warily as he had a very loud and carrying voice and he had already been slapped off rather rudely when he had tried to take the cape away… The way this great fella was windmilling his arms about he was going to take someone’s eye with the flouncy cape, not to mention the rather lethal-looking creases in his matching bell-bottoms, a far too figure-hugging pants cum jumpsuit affair (he quickly averted his eyes here, suddenly feeling quite demoralised by so many well-defined and shiny muscles).
“I’m sorry Sir, but whether or not you’re dead, you can’t bring your cape into the bar – there’s not enough room for it there and there are candles and such-like… it’s a… a… safety hazard, that’s what it is!”
The poor mortal shrank back as the well-built impersonator positively loomed over him curling his lip expertly and quite frankly the poor man was actually grateful when a rather tall lanky female with avery nasty expression in her blazing silver-blue eyes, and very dark hair, with ill-applied blonde highlights, that seemed to match her belligerent attitude stepped in. Frankly, it looked like she’d just got out of someone’s bed – backwards – and which may or may not have doubled as a hedge, judging by all the leaves and twiggy things that were stuck all over it…
“Oh, for Varda’s sake Tellee… I mean Telvis! Take the stupid thing off already! You can put it on again when you get onto the stage with the mic! Honestly, can’t you do anything without making a freaking song and dance about it… Cheese Louise!”
The smaller of the doormen watched with some admiration as the rather tatty velvet clad harridan, also wearing too tight bell bottoms that had somehow forgotten the way to her waist and hung, or rather clung rather fetchingly, in a kind of gravity-defying way, in the vicinity for her hips – kind of… grabbed the showy cape off the longshank’s impressive shoulders and thrust it aggressively under his arm with practised ease.
And then things began to deteriorate again as he looked at his partner in a stunned, horrified, slow motion ‘oh my gods! – don’t do it’ manner as he looked ‘kindly’ at the female who might have looked like she had been a lady once, but was taking tonight off come hell or high water.
Shorty closed his eyes and tried to look as though he wasn’t there…
“Same goes for your long coat… it’s very… flouncy…”
The temperature in that doorway fell rather rapidly below frost level, although it was a relatively warm autumnal night.
“Sorry Miss – same as the gent here. It has to come off… And we have to take your name as well Miss – for the Kara…Oooo… keee… ooooo my giddee Aunty!”
Mr Big finally caught on to the wisdom of seeking back up, but Shorty had already skedaddled into the bar and was hiding behind one of the bartenders.
“Never seen spaghetti straps before, Mr Picky…?”
She laughed rudely as she continued to peel off the distressed patchwork leather coat that reached to the floor past very, very curvaceous and soft puce and yellow velvet legs, as the doorman’s eyeballs moved up, almost popping out of his skull as he took in far too much midriff, not to mention an excessive amount of ribcage and a rather skimpy – in fact gratuitously skimpy – black silk undergarment, of a description normally called a chemise, except there was far too much ‘eez’ in the amount of material that failed to pass the bit that was supposed to be covering her… chest area.
“Well make your mind up bozo! Does the coat stay on or off – I’m easy either way.”
“You certainly are mada… erm. Well… better keep it on for now… hummm – it can get quite chilly in there… sometimes!”
He smiled at her nervously as a very long and very business-like blood-red elf-steel nail extension knuckle ring flicked towards him and ‘chucked’ him very expertly under the chin without breaking his trembling skin, although her eyes were telling him this could change very quickly.
“Cool – I’ll make sure not to flounce it around too much, sugar!”
Telvis had been downwind of her on the way over and hadn’t quite grasped the industrial strength of her eau de toilette…
“Oil of pat-chooo-lee, I think the man said… Does ’ooo like it Tellee-wellee!”
She smiled annoyingly around the equally annoying lisp and started for the bar.
“C’mon on then your King-ship – Momma needs a drinkie!”
“Ahhhh! Lady… Miss! Your name…. please?”
“Has he gotta death wish or what! – can you believe this guy?!”
Telly was getting hot and fed up and whipped off his big black wig with beautiful matching bushy sideburns, and fanned his face with prejudice for a few moments.
“Nawwwww! He’s just doin’ his job – aren’t you luvveeee?”
Mr. Big had seen nicer smiles on some alligators and was seriously thinking of changing his name to Mr Eyemoutta-Here… but he held his ground, which under the circumstances was pretty wise as this lady looked like she could run real fast.
The nail was out again and this time was point on to his heart then travelled over and up, trailing lazily up his breastbone and lingering like a shard of very hard ice on the hollow of his throat.
“I’m Jan-ussss, sugarrrr…”
Her voice was a soft honeyed hiss and behind her Telly rolled his eyes impatiently. This did not help.
“Janus Dropling… you’ll have heard of me for sure – ‘cos I ain’t dead, hon… I’m a legend! Just like ole Telvis here.” Another nasty wide white smile. “Don’t worr-eee! We’ll be good! You can count on it.”
“Claaaasssseee Jano – I don’t know what Silen will say to me, if he catches sight of you in that get-up!”
Telly swept into the bar in a thoroughly bad mood now. “What is it with the vest thing anyway?”
“I didn’t have time to change it big guy! It was part of that costume you said wasn’t appropriate – you know the one – the Cunning Stu……”
“Ai! Enough already!”
Telly turned quickly and clapped a huge mitt over her mouth and then tugged her over to the bar whilst she giggled her head off.
“What is it with you and these foo-prevention gigs these days in this crazy manor? Gimme a Mai Tai chief”
“And the Lady Sir?”
“Where? Oh, her. Give her anything that takes away the power of speech for the night, wilya huh?”
He looked around the bar grumpily.“Not many people in yet.”
“Well Miah’s a popular lady – place’ll be humming soon enough!” Jano smiled a little more kindly as the barkeep handed her a triple whisky.