Let's Party Like It's Alternate 1939 - Newsprint and Telegraph
Things are always funnier in my head, but that goes for everyone's funny fail, but really, this needs to be saved with pretty actors with funny accents. If you can imagine that as you read it, please enjoy the following LesYay and HoYay anachronistic pulp, and tell me if it's so bad it is good, or if it's so bad it is bad...
Let's Party Like It's Alternate 1939:
Newsprints and Telegrams
The dingy waterfront down at The Docks was just like any other harbour, ships goes in, ships goes out, and with it, liqueurs and liqueur infused sailors that swaggered and sworn with a mouth their momsies would not recognize.
Course, this body of water being Lake Ontario, most of the sailors in question were not merchants of the sea or their servants, but rather men and some women with money who fancy Life At Sea, but had not the cojones to leave the hometown where they are well established. If the clothes were fancier (at least in price, worn down navy coats selling thrice than new ones for those that demand an instant worldly air), the rowdiness is like.
Earlier that day, Detective Jamie Smith had received A Message over her morning coffee, or rather, under, on the newsprint spread over her desk, an ad with a simplified map of the region from her agency to the docks laid out like the board in Cluedo, with an invitation for YOU, and Jamie Smith's name in brackets.
So Detective Jamie Smith combed the docks, magnifying glass in hand, searching for anything which would match up to the puzzling clue of the word "top", and beneath it, "thought", wishing she had paid more attention to the previews when they came on at the end of last week. Alas, it was blazer ripper week, and Detective Jamie Smith had been too distracted by Secretary Seung's "top" to spare even a "thought" for the melodramatic voiceover.
~~~~
MEANWHILE, Back At The Agency: Detective Buck, and the agency's faithful aide Secretary Seung, was caught, helpless, his gun in his coat on the rack by the door, and her pepper spray left out in the lunchroom by the pot of chicken soup.
The Villain Of The Hour, cackling beneath his crumbled black top hat and twirling the curls of his moustache, advanced hunched and menacing into the small cluttered office. His eyes were gleaming with malice, his gaze half on the sympathetic characters he intends to stuff into Detective Jamie Smith's refrigerator, half on the telegraph he was composing to Jamie Smith herself.
Carefully avoiding the tripping hazard of the heap of telegram cable around his feet, he tapped as if he was stabbing at the Tell-Tale Heart, "I...r...in...ur...base...", and then The Villain Of The Hour paused, at a lost. Should he tap, "will be killing your dudes", or should he stuff the sympathetic characters into the fridge first, before sending, "have killed your dudes"? It seem a bit too challenging to be able to kill the sympathetic characters and send his gloating telegram at the same time.
"Oy," Detective Buck initiated, half an hour later, his shoulders stiff beneath the talon like grip of a very stressed Secretary Seung (who perhaps shouldn't be hiding behind him if she's tall enough to do that), "I'm getting hungry, are you done?"
"NO!" The Villain of The Hour (plus maybe another hour) shook a fist in ANGER, "I think this is jammed, and I might have accidentally challenged the Barber to a duel. Or propositioned his parakeet."
"....."
"Perhaps you ought to give it the old shake and shake?" Secretary Seung suggested helpfully, "or how about you take off your shoes and step onto the rug, they must be sore from those platforms!"
Secretary Seung waited until The Villain Of The Hour has stepped fully onto the rug (and lost half a foot in height), before stealthily moving behind the desk to activate the Trap Door. She reached under the Canadian Flag Toga that covered the exquisitely craved statue of Lady Justice, and pressed the left nipple; the Villain Of The Hour barely had time to open his mouth to issue a "CURSE YOUUUU!" before he disappeared from view.
Returning from his daydream about Seung and Smith and Judge Judy (and hopefully potato pudding, because god, he is starving), Detective Buck has the presence of mind to inquire, "Wait, we have a trap door?"
"It came with the place."
"...where does it go?"
~~~~
It's such a sunny afternoon that even stranded in hog town without a drop of giggle juice, Missy Anna can't keep herself down. When the pair of smart-cracking dandies she's been sending looks and showing off her slipped stockings at, opted to make out with each other on the park bench, all she does is gush at their Young Love before walking off to feed the ducks.
She inhales daintily through her cigarette holder as the ducks waddled onto shore and towards the bread crumbs she had laid at her feet. Just as Missy Anna was looking for a good flat rock to put her smoke out on, she heard a long loud shout of "CURSE YOUUUUU", before the angry bundle of a man and his top hat fell into the pond with a huuuuge splash, followed by a pair of platform shoes.
~~~~
"The pond in the park", Secretary Seung beamed brightly as she pulled the rug and the trapdoor back up, "and boy, did we ruin a lot of rugs before we thought to nail a side of it to the top of the door!"
Detective Buck continued to stare at the spot where the hole in the floor was, face struck in shock like a stopped clock..."but how?"
Secretary Seung tilted her head slightly with a puzzled look topping her face, "I've always did wonder about that, but then I always get sidetracked..."
Noting the time from Secretary Seung's wristwatch, Detective Buck exclaimed excitedly, "it's time for lunch."
"Oh yes, let me Twitter Jamie, she must be so confused by the telegram..."
THE END (?)
Let's Party Like It's Alternate 1939:
Newsprints and Telegrams
The dingy waterfront down at The Docks was just like any other harbour, ships goes in, ships goes out, and with it, liqueurs and liqueur infused sailors that swaggered and sworn with a mouth their momsies would not recognize.
Course, this body of water being Lake Ontario, most of the sailors in question were not merchants of the sea or their servants, but rather men and some women with money who fancy Life At Sea, but had not the cojones to leave the hometown where they are well established. If the clothes were fancier (at least in price, worn down navy coats selling thrice than new ones for those that demand an instant worldly air), the rowdiness is like.
Earlier that day, Detective Jamie Smith had received A Message over her morning coffee, or rather, under, on the newsprint spread over her desk, an ad with a simplified map of the region from her agency to the docks laid out like the board in Cluedo, with an invitation for YOU, and Jamie Smith's name in brackets.
So Detective Jamie Smith combed the docks, magnifying glass in hand, searching for anything which would match up to the puzzling clue of the word "top", and beneath it, "thought", wishing she had paid more attention to the previews when they came on at the end of last week. Alas, it was blazer ripper week, and Detective Jamie Smith had been too distracted by Secretary Seung's "top" to spare even a "thought" for the melodramatic voiceover.
~~~~
MEANWHILE, Back At The Agency: Detective Buck, and the agency's faithful aide Secretary Seung, was caught, helpless, his gun in his coat on the rack by the door, and her pepper spray left out in the lunchroom by the pot of chicken soup.
The Villain Of The Hour, cackling beneath his crumbled black top hat and twirling the curls of his moustache, advanced hunched and menacing into the small cluttered office. His eyes were gleaming with malice, his gaze half on the sympathetic characters he intends to stuff into Detective Jamie Smith's refrigerator, half on the telegraph he was composing to Jamie Smith herself.
Carefully avoiding the tripping hazard of the heap of telegram cable around his feet, he tapped as if he was stabbing at the Tell-Tale Heart, "I...r...in...ur...base...", and then The Villain Of The Hour paused, at a lost. Should he tap, "will be killing your dudes", or should he stuff the sympathetic characters into the fridge first, before sending, "have killed your dudes"? It seem a bit too challenging to be able to kill the sympathetic characters and send his gloating telegram at the same time.
"Oy," Detective Buck initiated, half an hour later, his shoulders stiff beneath the talon like grip of a very stressed Secretary Seung (who perhaps shouldn't be hiding behind him if she's tall enough to do that), "I'm getting hungry, are you done?"
"NO!" The Villain of The Hour (plus maybe another hour) shook a fist in ANGER, "I think this is jammed, and I might have accidentally challenged the Barber to a duel. Or propositioned his parakeet."
"....."
"Perhaps you ought to give it the old shake and shake?" Secretary Seung suggested helpfully, "or how about you take off your shoes and step onto the rug, they must be sore from those platforms!"
Secretary Seung waited until The Villain Of The Hour has stepped fully onto the rug (and lost half a foot in height), before stealthily moving behind the desk to activate the Trap Door. She reached under the Canadian Flag Toga that covered the exquisitely craved statue of Lady Justice, and pressed the left nipple; the Villain Of The Hour barely had time to open his mouth to issue a "CURSE YOUUUU!" before he disappeared from view.
Returning from his daydream about Seung and Smith and Judge Judy (and hopefully potato pudding, because god, he is starving), Detective Buck has the presence of mind to inquire, "Wait, we have a trap door?"
"It came with the place."
"...where does it go?"
~~~~
It's such a sunny afternoon that even stranded in hog town without a drop of giggle juice, Missy Anna can't keep herself down. When the pair of smart-cracking dandies she's been sending looks and showing off her slipped stockings at, opted to make out with each other on the park bench, all she does is gush at their Young Love before walking off to feed the ducks.
She inhales daintily through her cigarette holder as the ducks waddled onto shore and towards the bread crumbs she had laid at her feet. Just as Missy Anna was looking for a good flat rock to put her smoke out on, she heard a long loud shout of "CURSE YOUUUUU", before the angry bundle of a man and his top hat fell into the pond with a huuuuge splash, followed by a pair of platform shoes.
~~~~
"The pond in the park", Secretary Seung beamed brightly as she pulled the rug and the trapdoor back up, "and boy, did we ruin a lot of rugs before we thought to nail a side of it to the top of the door!"
Detective Buck continued to stare at the spot where the hole in the floor was, face struck in shock like a stopped clock..."but how?"
Secretary Seung tilted her head slightly with a puzzled look topping her face, "I've always did wonder about that, but then I always get sidetracked..."
Noting the time from Secretary Seung's wristwatch, Detective Buck exclaimed excitedly, "it's time for lunch."
"Oh yes, let me Twitter Jamie, she must be so confused by the telegram..."
THE END (?)