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tegerioCategory Story / All
Species Squirrel
Size 97 x 120px
File Size 17.3 kB
Listed in Folders
"You'd better get that document fixed, Harry, before the Recorder sees it. It's P-E-R..."
"Yes, I know, I know. Can I help it if I'm rushed? All this bloody end-of-season paperwork. Why they can't keep things in one place..."
"Yes, well, sharpen your quill. It'll be a marriage licence, next."
"For who? Oh, you mean that officer and the squirrel femme? By Fuma's knitting 'brows, why d'ye suppose they heard the lady out?"
"Have you ever tried arguing with Mrs. Truemane?"
"No, no, I mean, after that. When the lady was on her knees, petitioning the King. I don't understand it."
"Well, for one thing, Harry, who wants to be the fur standing between one young squirrel-elf and another young squirrel-elf falling in love? That's the sort of thing that gives you a bad name amongst the balladeers, y'know."
"I suppose. Be a damn shame if the lad snuffs it, after all that?"
"Well, I wonder. Suppose you're deathly sick -- and believe me, from what I've heard, the Lieutenant isn't that far from Fuma's embrace -- suppose you're that ill, and all of a sudden the femmefur you love, who'd been barred from seeing you, shows up right beside your bed. There's a bit of buck-U-uppo, I'd put my last copper on it. The old King knows his onions, let me tell you."
"Hrmph. I'll bet His Majesty wanted to stick it to that acorn-breathed twit, though. What d'ye think?"
"Oh, I don't doubt there's something to that. Getting humiliated by a pair of servants was the real bit of cream on top of that dash of helmlock. But really, think about it. If you were the King, and you wanted to show a bit of royal favour to a chap, because your son and heir had been saved by that same chap, wouldn't you put the fix in so your mel could have the femme he wanted?"
"Nice work if you can get it, Sven."
"Well, Harry, it's good to be the King. Pass me that sheaf of foolscap, would you?"
"Yes, I know, I know. Can I help it if I'm rushed? All this bloody end-of-season paperwork. Why they can't keep things in one place..."
"Yes, well, sharpen your quill. It'll be a marriage licence, next."
"For who? Oh, you mean that officer and the squirrel femme? By Fuma's knitting 'brows, why d'ye suppose they heard the lady out?"
"Have you ever tried arguing with Mrs. Truemane?"
"No, no, I mean, after that. When the lady was on her knees, petitioning the King. I don't understand it."
"Well, for one thing, Harry, who wants to be the fur standing between one young squirrel-elf and another young squirrel-elf falling in love? That's the sort of thing that gives you a bad name amongst the balladeers, y'know."
"I suppose. Be a damn shame if the lad snuffs it, after all that?"
"Well, I wonder. Suppose you're deathly sick -- and believe me, from what I've heard, the Lieutenant isn't that far from Fuma's embrace -- suppose you're that ill, and all of a sudden the femmefur you love, who'd been barred from seeing you, shows up right beside your bed. There's a bit of buck-U-uppo, I'd put my last copper on it. The old King knows his onions, let me tell you."
"Hrmph. I'll bet His Majesty wanted to stick it to that acorn-breathed twit, though. What d'ye think?"
"Oh, I don't doubt there's something to that. Getting humiliated by a pair of servants was the real bit of cream on top of that dash of helmlock. But really, think about it. If you were the King, and you wanted to show a bit of royal favour to a chap, because your son and heir had been saved by that same chap, wouldn't you put the fix in so your mel could have the femme he wanted?"
"Nice work if you can get it, Sven."
"Well, Harry, it's good to be the King. Pass me that sheaf of foolscap, would you?"
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