27 December 2007
The Beast of Christmas Present
Christmas Day, 1856.
Well, what a fine Christmas-time I am having this year.
Not only have I already enjoyed urinating on a beggar, and having intercourse with a ghost, but today I received a rather marvelous present from my wretched man-servant, Botter.
I rose early on Christmas morn, and was looking forward to thrashing my man-servant to within an inch of his miserable life, as a festive treat to myself. However, when I ventured downstairs, I found that Botter looked like he had been given a thorough going-over already. His clothes were in tatters (rather more so than is usual for one as unkempt as he), his hair was ruffled and he bore large, terrible scratches about his face and arms.
“What in the blazes have you been up to, Botter?” I enquired. “You look as if you have been dragged through a bush backwards, and then beaten up by the bush. What have you been doing?”
“Sorry, milord,” Botter apologised, lightly dabbing at his seeping wounds with a handkerchief. “I was trying to wrap your Christmas present, but it proved rather more difficult than I had hoped.”
“Slap my arsehole, Botter! What in the name of Spanish sodomy have you bought me that could cause you such injuries? Have you perchance purchased me a set of dangerously-sharp daggers for Christmas?”
“No, milord…if…if you would care to follow me, I have stored your gift in the drawing-room.”
I regarded Botter with a puzzled expression, and then followed him down to the drawing-room. As we neared the door, I could hear the sound of something crashing about inside.
“Ye Gods!” I exclaimed, gripping my cane tightly. “Are we being burgled? Whoever is in there had better scarper quick, lest they taste my mighty cane!” I paused. “And by ‘mighty cane’, I do not mean my penis, this time.”
“Milord! Please, wait, I have to -” cried out Botter, as I turned the door-handle and strode inside.
No sooner had I laid a foot upon the plush carpet of the room, than I was knocked to the floor by something so powerful that it left me quite winded. As I laid on the floor, gasping for breath, a shadow fell over me, and I was suddenly face-to-face with a giant, ferocious lion.
Well, there are worse ways to go out, I thought to myself. At least I was not mauled to death by a terrier, or a rabid squirrel.
“I had not seen such a powerful beast since I went to the toilet this morning”I braced myself for the lion’s final, terrible attack, but was surprised to find that rather than tearing my face off in his powerful jaws, the beast merely leant closer, and licked my face.
“Good lord!” I exclaimed. “It seems I am truly irresistible to all of God’s creatures!”
“He likes you,” observed Botter, as the lion continued to lick my lordly face.
“Well, indeed,” I agreed, as I stroked the creature’s mane. “It is not all that surprising, really. He clearly acknowledges that he is in the presence of an Alpha-Male, and has conceded accordingly. It happens to me all of the time. Here, Botter, come and help me back on to my feet, will you?”
Botter gingerly moved forward, at which point the lion unleashed a nut-shatteringly loud roar, and bared his teeth at my terrified servant.
“Hm. He does not care for you too much, Botter. I dare say he did not take too kindly to your earlier misguided attempt to gift-wrap him for me,” I said, hauling myself out from underneath the beast. “I mean, honestly. Who tries to gift-wrap a lion?”
“I had a lovely red ribbon to tie on his tail as well,” lamented Botter.
“I am continually staggered by your incredible stupidity, sometimes,” I grunted, as I freed myself from the lion. “Nonetheless, I must say he is a most magnificent animal, he really is. I have not seen such a powerful beast since I went to the toilet this morning. Where on Earth did you get him, pray tell?”
“He used to belong to Mr. Silas Surprise,” replied Botter from behind the door-frame to where he had retreated. “Once Mr. Surprise was arrested, all his possessions were impounded, including this here lion. However, it seemed the animal did not take too kindly to being impounded , and after he unburdened two police-officers of their arms, the police were rather keen to get rid of the creature. So, I volunteered to take him off of their remaining hands, and, well, give him to you. Happy Christmas, milord!”
“I suppose you could say that he is my…mane present this year, eh?” I chortled.
“Yes, he is your main present this year, milord,” Botter replied, missing my most excellent pun altogether.
“Never mind, Botter. Don’t strain yourself…well, this beast shall make for a most marvelous new pet. Does he have a name?” I asked, as the lion nonchalantly chewed upon my couch.
“Mr. Surprise called him Princey, I think,” returned my man-servant.
“Ugh.” I pulled a disgusted face. “That will not do at all. This fine creature demands a name that reflects his majesty, his power, his strength…”
“What about Leo?” suggested Botter.
“Good gracious,” I sighed. “That is possibly even more insipid and uninspired than Princey. No, I think I shall call him…Thundercock.”
“Thundercock?”
“Yes, Thundercock. A bold name for a bold beast! Isn’t that right, Thundercock?” I cooed, scratching under the animal’s chin. “Well, many thanks indeed, Botter. I am genuinely touched by this most glorious of gifts.”
“You…you’re more than welcome, milord,” Botter replied, clearly confused by the notion of being congratulated for something.
“However,” I added, “I shall naturally have to dock your pay for to cover the cost of the considerable damage the creature has done to my drawing-room.”
“Oh. Right,” replied Botter, blankly.
“Well, if you would be so good as to start clearing up in here, I shall go and take Thundercock for a walk through the village. With any luck, he’ll savage a few carol-singers or take a chunk out of a vicar’s neck. Merry Christmas!“
At this juncture, I would just like to remind you all that a lion is for life, and not just for Christmas. Man-servants, however, are entirely expendable.
- Lord Likely.
His lordship’s glorious group, The Upper Crust
