100 Word Stories: D: Gentry

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November 7, 2005

D: Gentry

Euphasia Dutch Wormblood turned to the other ladies present and as if by unspoken signal all fell silent and replaced their teacups quietly onto the bone china saucers. Crumpets and scones were placed with delicate care on plates and dessert forks emanated the slightest tinkle as they were lowered.

"Ladies of the British Occult Society of Onomatopoetic Matriarchs, our guest speaker today is indeed a distinguished one."

Lace handkerchiefs were dabbed at excited mouths and flustered feathered hats quivered with anticipation.

"Here to present his treatise on the correct pronunciation of Daventry, I present... Jim Parkinson's green-headed duck."

Quack.

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Comments

And yes, that was the opening presentation speach of the most recent gathering of BOSOM.

Posted by: D at November 7, 2005 6:57 AM · Permalink

Silly BOSOMs. They should have known not to expect proper enunciation from a duck.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at November 7, 2005 7:22 AM · Permalink

The locals will tell you that the city of Daventry, nestled snugly inside Northamptonshire, is a mysterious place of foreboding dread. A town so mired in pagan mysticism and evil magic that few know exactly how to reach it. All who venture there are lost, never to return.

“Sure,” the locals said. “You could take the A45 West out of Northampton and drive for about 15 kilometers. But, unless you’re keen on werewolves and the like, why would you want to? Are you so eager to join the legions of the damned?”

I suspect the locals do not like tourists.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at November 7, 2005 7:57 AM · Permalink

Damn! Wrong spot.

Sorry, D. Let me try posting this again in the right place. This time I'll switch on my cerebrum before I post.

November 7, 2005

D: Gentry

Comments

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