Jan 23, 2006 21:20
god knows what possessed me to write this.....please only read if you are very bored.......I swear its not really worth reading......but feel free to glance at it, and then to question yourselves, does this man have too much free time?
I have unearthed this Scandalous Tomb from the Royal Library of North Wellington Prose.
Act II Scene 7 The Regents Return
Emma is alone in the dimly lit great halls of Claymoore Manor; the languid mood pervasive as Emma adjusts the fine china, set upon the long table just hours before. [Thomas enters stage left]
Emma: I do think I hear footsteps arising in this vacuous cavern I call a home. Father have you decided to come home early? [no reply] If you are a intruder be prepared to face both the end of the musket and the blade of the bayonet.
Thomas: Do not be so quick to quarrel Mistress Claymoore. It is just me, Thomas, your families gardener. However you sure have caught me in an awkward position, here I am tracking dirt all over your fine dining hall when you are out here trying arrange a nice place setting for tonight's meal.
Emma: Think nothing of it Thomas, and do not trouble yourself a bit, I shan't reveal a word of this to my father. Frankly it is just pleasant to hear a familiar voice in this Manor, especially in light of the recent events that have befallen this family. Now if it wouldn't trouble you too much would you be so kind as to join me for supper. With father out of town this place has been positively dreary.
Thomas: I wouldn't want to intrude Mistress Claymoore, plus I should probably go freshen up, one can get quite ripe working the gardens all day.
Emma: Nonsense I shall not be bothered by the smell, in fact I doubt that it will be able to overpower the tender aromas of Alice's cooking. And Thomas [exaggerated pause] you may call me Emma
Thomas: I couldn't Miss Emma; Alice is a friend of mine, I'm not sure if it would proper to eat the food she has prepared just for you.
Emma: Thomas don't make me order you to have supper with me, it wouldn't sit right with me; especially since I know my father considers you a friend and confidant. And please just call me Emma.
Thomas: Well Mi....Emma, if you insist. I must admit I haven't received all the manners I should have, I hope I don't offend you delicate sensibilities.
Emma: Your manners most certainly will not but if you keep referring to my sensibilities as such your words most certainly will.
Time goes by as the two sit down for a meal at the great table of Claymoore Manor. Thomas sits unsure, nervously sweating onto an already glistening face awash in the glow of a days work. Across from him the ravishingly beautiful Emma Claymoore, a prize jewel with a spirit to match it, sits cooly awaiting for some sort of conversation to arise from the nervous wreck sitting across from her. The thick silence pervaded the very air in the room creating an artificial lust between the two young adults. The mear graze of the fingers as they passed yams was far more then either one could take, as under such circumstances of the night it was the equivalent of far more intimate behaviors. Both stood up suddenly and prepared for that which both knew would be looked upon unkindly in proper society. [Emma stands up, motions to Thomas and Exits Stage Left. Thomas strokes his handlebar mustache and follows Emma off stage] [Lights dim] [The Count of Schaumburg dressed in an all black cloak enters stage right]
The Count of Shaumburg runs into the center of the great hall and quietly leaps onto a chair beside the table. Count Schaumburg reaches across his chest, passed the dangling strings of his cloak, to a shiny metal medallion. His hands remain fondling the medalion for quite some time before he manages to rip its chain from around his neck short stubby neck.
Count Schaumburg: [whisper] I shall have my revenge Emma, do not doubt upon this, I shall have my revenge.