Illya frowned over a glossy pamphlet plucked from his partner’s in-tray. “Join us at the seashore for a wild and wacky vacation,” he read, monotone. “Why?”
“Why not? It sounds fun.”
“Fun for whom? You don’t like water sports - surfing, swimming, even scuba diving. And I see no appeal in lying on hot sand or watching girls in grass skirts dance around a roasting pig and a pot of stewed vegetables.”
“That’s because you’re totally lacking in imagination.” Napoleon waggled his eyebrows. “There will be plenty of, ah, physical activities after the luaus.”
“Activities that are more enjoyable without sunburn.”
Speaking as a native Chicagoan, ketchup on hot dogs is anathema! I laughed out loud. Well played.
Here is mine:
Edith Partridge reached across the tray for the pot of tea and refilled Emory’s cup. Together they sipped, gazing contentedly across to the nearby seashore. “Scone, dear?” she asked her husband. As he chewed thoughtfully, she commented, “All that’s lacking is a good Devon cream.” “And a plan to capture that Kuryakin chap.” “The rather physical blond fellow?” “Yes, yes, Edith. He and his partner were spotted in town.” “Well, I shall have to assist you, I suppose,” she said. “Of course,”: he replied. “But no wacky plots, please.” “Heaven forbid!”
Comments 60
Lol. Very fun and in character.
Good job.
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Thanks!
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“Why not? It sounds fun.”
“Fun for whom? You don’t like water sports - surfing, swimming, even scuba diving. And I see no appeal in lying on hot sand or watching girls in grass skirts dance around a roasting pig and a pot of stewed vegetables.”
“That’s because you’re totally lacking in imagination.” Napoleon waggled his eyebrows. “There will be plenty of, ah, physical activities after the luaus.”
“Activities that are more enjoyable without sunburn.”
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This is very good indeed. And very in character; a scene that is easy to hear and see. Well done.
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Here is mine:
Edith Partridge reached across the tray for the pot of tea and refilled Emory’s cup. Together they sipped, gazing contentedly across to the nearby seashore.
“Scone, dear?” she asked her husband.
As he chewed thoughtfully, she commented, “All that’s lacking is a good Devon cream.”
“And a plan to capture that Kuryakin chap.”
“The rather physical blond fellow?”
“Yes, yes, Edith. He and his partner were spotted in town.”
“Well, I shall have to assist you, I suppose,” she said.
“Of course,”: he replied. “But no wacky plots, please.”
“Heaven forbid!”
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Thanks! Hahaha, heaven forbid! Well done, you!
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I always figured Ilya would eat anything that couldn't outrun him. I might be wrong. thanks for reading.
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Thanks so very much!
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