Round 1
Round 1
General Rules
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It was quite a large room inside, although a lot of space was taken up by large, boxy camera equipment. Several people were crowded around, including a woman with a sleek brown bob haircut, looking rather unimpressed by the grey-haired man telling jokes beside her.
“Sothers!” Charles slurred, strolling over to a man in a bulletproof vest. “Where’s your wig, old chap?” Charles thrust out an arm towards the other man, spilling some champagne. “Why are you hiding out in this old room? You’re missing the party!”
The man’s face clouded over slightly with confusion. “What are you talking about? Your majesty,” he added as an afterthought. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I’m Mike Peabody, HHTV News. I interviewed you earlier-”
“What’s he doing here?” A man with a clipboard said in surprise, interrupting Mike. “I thought he was meant to be at the after-prom party? Well, it doesn’t matter now, just get him out of here, we need to pack up.”
“Now, now...” Charles protested drunkenly. “I’m the King of England, and I’ll not be ordered around...”
“Come on, now, someone needs to get him to where he’s supposed to be,” the clipboard man said, raising his voice over Charles” drunken ramblings.
“Well, he’s not in any fit state to go to the party now, is he?” the brunette lady said reasonably, shuffling a stack of papers on her lap absent-mindedly.
Charles opened his mouth to argue, but let out a loud hiccup instead. “Take me to the party, Sothers, it’s not a party without me there yet, is it?” He tried to take a step towards Mike, but almost fell over in the process, slopping the last of his champagne out of the glass and onto the floor.
“Oh for God’s sake...” Clipboard man exclaimed, dodging out of the way. “Bob, you’re ready to go, aren’t you? Take him somewhere, we’ve got all this stuff to pack away and he’s holding us up!”
“No can do,” Bob replied seriously. “I don’t want him ruining this rather fetching tie, Nanny Bob sent it to me for Christmas.”
Oblivious to the News crew’s utter bewilderment as to how to get him out of the way, Charles began to tap Mike on the sleeve. “Sothers... Sothers... Sotherby... Sothers...” Charles said, raising his voice with each “Sothers”.
“What?” Mike answered impatiently, turning his attention away from the other three, who were still deciding what to do about the situation, to look at Charles. “My name’s not Sothers, alright?”
With a random, yet flamboyant, twirl of his arms, Charles laughed merrily. “I’m missing the party, Sothers! Or rather, the party’s missing me!” He raised his empty glass to his mouth and tried to muster up a dignified expression as he took a sip. He held the glass there for a few seconds, until pulling it away with a very sad “Oh.” Mike stifled a laugh. He couldn’t help thinking that Charles looked like an upset puppy.
“...but not for long!” Bob shouted, bringing Mike’s attention away from the really rather cute, but disappointed, Charles and back to the task at hand.
“Oh, give it a rest, Bob!” Sam groaned.
“Right, I’ve had about as much of this as I can take for one day,” Mike said, as Bob opened his mouth to retaliate. “Honestly, it’s like an episode of Eastenders in here! Not that I watch that, of course - oh that’s not important, I’ll take him.”
“Thank God,” the weary looking clipboard man sighed with relief. “Take him somewhere, anywhere, I don’t care.”
There was a little giggle from Charles, and Mike looked down to see Charles poking his bulletproof vest.
“It says ‘press’, hahaha!” Charles laughed, clearly finding the whole situation hilarious. “I’m pressing it!”
Oh no, Mike thought to himself. What on earth have I let myself in for?
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Just when I think this meme can't get any more awesome. It does.
Anon, this is great, so funny and so sweet. It says ‘press’, hahaha!” Charles laughed, clearly finding the whole situation hilarious. “I’m pressing it! had me laughing hysterically, I'm definately with Charles on that one. And poor put-upon Mike getting called Sothers...
And Bobsy! Anyone who mentions Bob in fic gets at least a marriage proposal from me. And I have a massive soft spot for that fetching pink tie he wore to the prom, and for Nanny Bob. So, Gretna?
Ahem. Can't wait for more, anon. : )
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But, yes, this was brilliant. Incredibly sweet and funny and eeeee. Yay for Bob, and yay for Sam, and I find myself oddly fond of clipboard man so this was all brilliant. <33 I'm really looking forward to more!
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The Writer
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‘Right, okay,’ Mike muttered to himself as he paced down the corridor of the Royal Albert Hall, a very jolly Charles II hanging onto his arm. ‘Peabody, you’ve reported from battlefields, you can deal with a drunk monarch, easy.’ Nevertheless, he was definitely regretting his generous decision to escort the King elsewhere.
Charles, who had been shouting odd fragments of his song for the past few minutes, looked to be thoroughly enjoying himself. ‘Party on!’ He shouted at a confused-looking George III as they hurried past him.
‘And they say I’m mad!’ George scoffed, nudging the potted plant he was deep in conversation with.
‘Honestly, Sothers, we really need to find this party, it’s really not a party until I’m there, is it?’ Charles whined, still brandishing his empty glass theatrically. ‘Poor old things don’t know who they’re missing, mm?’
Stopping suddenly in the deserted corridor, Mike took some time to think. Over the years, he’d got into quite a few sticky situations, but this was something else.
‘Okay, Your Majesty?’ Mike said patiently, waiting for Charles to pay attention. ‘I’m going to take you back to your dressing room, alright? I think you just need a good long nap. And it’s Mike Peabody, not Sothers.’
Charles blew a raspberry, and Mike had to stifle a laugh. ‘Oh, always the party-pooper!’ He made a flamboyant gesture and his champagne glass slipped out of his hand, flew through the air and smashed against the wall behind him. ‘Oh dear,’ Charles murmured, and knelt down to look at the fragments of glass. ‘Poor thing,’ he said mournfully. ‘Look, Sotherby, it’s broken and all the champagne’s gone...’
Mike really struggled to keep a straight face this time. Charles really was rather cute. ‘I’m sure we can find you another one, your majesty,’ Mike said sympathetically, pulling Charles to his feet.
‘You know, Sothers, I really did like that one,’ Charles said, clinging to Mike’s arm. ‘He was lovely.’
‘Yes, your Majesty.’ Mike said, not even bothering to correct Charles this time. So what if he thought he was this ‘Sothers’? Although he was putting the ‘Merry’ in Monarch, Charles did seem rather harmless. ‘There’s more in your dressing room, I’m sure of it. Come along.’
Beaming, Charles charged along the corridor, dragging Mike along with him. He almost ran past his dressing room door in his enthusiasm. It was a plain wooden door, half-covered with an enormous gold plaque which read:
‘His Royal Majesty,
King Charles II of England, Scotland, Ireland, Bling, etc
Full-time Merry Monarch’
After watching Charles struggle with the door handle for a few moments, Mike stepped forward to help him.
‘Well, after you,’ Mike said, as the door swung open.
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This is lovely. And you got in George III! And the plant! And the plaque is just brilliant. <33
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