Catherine smiled, nodded, waved. Ah, mother. If only you could see me now. Her smile spread as her hand danced in the air. Your eldest daughter is the very image of propriety. She turned to descend the long stairway leading outside the great hall. And you claimed I would never become a proper lady... Ha!
"My lady?"
"Shut the fuck up, Tod. Can't you see I'm ladying?"
Ser Tod looked around the empty hallway perplexed.
"You have already sullied my solitude..." Catherine sighed not at all dramatically. "Speak, you fool!"
"I regret to inform you I will be leaving your service."
Catherine recoiled as if struck. "Toddy~ What are you -"
"Apologies, my lady. Your feet just cannot compare."
Catherine fell on her knees, but it wasn't to perform her usual fair. She gaped, again not what you think, as her paramour turned his back to leave. Why did this have to happen now? At the pinnacle of her decorum?
"I must ask after the wielder of this bow, that has struck her arrow so deep into my soul!" But she knew the answer, and ser Tod's silence all but confirmed it.
In her chambers Catherine sulked, formulating a plan. To dispatch this yulk, she would need a trustworthy man. Ser Bushbottom was his name, bushy mustaches were his fame. But that was not why she sprung, his name to sung, Catherine required the services of Ser Bushbottom's tongue.
"Madam!" Bushbottom grew so red as to match the color of his surcoat.
"The deed must be done!" Lady Catherine proclaimed. "And you are the one to do it, Bushbottom!"
"No..."
"Yes! You are to slay the Skankstress!"
Ser Bushbhottom fell on his ass, quick fast, as he tried to grasp the last of his wit's past.
Lady Catherine did not scold him. To slay the queen of all skanks was no mean feat. No mean feat, indeed. One must be ready for anything and everything. Mind and body must be one, or the skank will exploit weak, unoiled joints.
"Must I give my honor, house, and name to your service, my lady? Must I sacrifice all I have... for your revenge?"
"Totally, dude. That sounds so radical."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Yes!" Catherine proclaimed and Ser Bushbottom barked before the beast's breath. "I speak in the ancient tongue, fool! Of course, you would not understand it!"
Thus all was arranged. Lady Catherine would send her deadliest sleeper agent to infiltrate the court of the Skankstress. A gamble, for sure. But one she was willing to take.
No one steals her Shoemaker and gets away with it!
"I got size tens, a size eleven, and a size eleven and three quarters." Bushbottom presented in the carriage ride over.
"Mm, mm." Catherine nodded. "Do what you think best. But remember! You must worship her feet, you must fully give yourself for this role. Embrace it! Give yourself fully! Your ample mustache should aliviate most of the stench anyway..."
Bushbottom's gulp was audible. "What if, I am enthralled as well, my lady?"
Slap.
"I will see it done, my lady!"
The carriage stopped, and the coachman opened the door. "We have arrived."
"Keep the horses running, Gerald. We might need a quick getaway... at least two laps around the estate!"
"Yes, lady."
As they entered the estate, Catherine marveled at her own genius. Once the skank gets her blisters, Toddy will return to me! Bushbottom has never been good at keeping secrets! The skank will think herself clever right up to the point where -
"Hail, Lady Catherine!" The guard at the door saluted. "Your sister is not home presently, good lady."
"And... where, pray tell, has she gone, guardsman?"
"She left this note, written in your ancient tongue." The guardsman handed her a parchment, it read:
"I'm like, totally hooked on these new sneaks. Like, bag your face, slut. And keep that bushy, bald, baboon to yourself! Later! Mwa!"
"My lady, your face is so red it -"
Slap.
"- suits you very beautifully, my lady."
"To the carriage, Bushbottom!" Was all Catherine could manage without bursting into tears.
The horses, unfortunately, were still running.
"Mother was right. I am no proper lady... Not even capable enough to stage an overcomplicated plot to give my sister blisters on her feet so I can steal back my Shoemaker and occasional side piece."
"Side... piece..."
"Goddamnit, Bushbottom! Stop trying to understand the ancient tongue!"
"My lady, I may not understand the tongue of your ancient land. What was it called again... Florida?"
Catherine sniffled, nodded.
"We may not possess the mythical alligators that you hold in such high regard. But we don't have to! We have armadillos! And I think I can produce a new type of shoe, one that is blister-proof!"
"The fuck?"
"Vengence is not the way, my lady..."
The horses finally arrived, and Bushbottom climbed atop the steps. He preferred his hand, his mustache flapping in the wind.
"I will make armadillo shoes, my lady!"
Amazed and not at all confused, Lady Catherine took the offered hand. Her sister long forgotten.
Cutting it kinda close, again. 😁 This story is my entry for the monthly contest run by the fantastical Mr. @thinkrdotexe. 🍻
I have no idea if this was funny. 😅😇 But it was fun to write! 🤷♂ Not much more you could ask. 🙂
Obligatory shout-out to the 🍕PIZZA🍕 gang, 🤙 gang. 🤙
👊 Follow me on my HIVE blog 👊
Image source.
Peace! 😏
Return from Is it the shoes? to Јоцко's Web3 Blog
