An Intimate Gathering.
Ed Grommet was petrified. As he struggled between tying his dick’s bow and Hoovering the dressing table with a straw, he could not concentrate. Would Lordy Snake bring an escort hired for the evening or an embarrassing pseudo son? Would Androgyny Cask dress seductively as a boy or try to look like Caravan Horse? Would her sperm donor, Blinky Bollocks, dress properly or wear that toga Lordy so loves him in? His hand shook as he steadied the Hoover with an enormous snort.
Then another potential etiquette nightmare overwhelmed him. Davos Manylegs, his erstwhile sibling, so the hospital told his Mum, in Estonia, wear his chain of office? He hated that weird, phallic shaped, black, heavy rubber pendant. Yet he knew how much Davos was aware that Lordy got off on it.
Then, above all else was the secrecy. What if his Master were to find out these guests were to attend this feast? Yes, the cost was irrelevant; it was down to the Ministry’s ecological budget and green tax bonanza. Yet all this could backfire if some other Aintworthalot type found out about this potential coven of plotters.
The phone jangled with a teddy bears picnic noise of what bears do in woods. He grabbed the oriental pipe that was his private mobile. Oh, thank the Lord of Everything; his Master was in the bunker and not to be disturbed. Ten wooden equines had been shipped in, a laundry basket of huge volume from Mother care also seen and better still the Nokia Corporate sales director had been spotted at The Savoy ordering champagne.
He finished dressing. The elongated pumps were OK, the Andy Pandy suit perfect with the red flag Dickie bow. He skipped downstairs to await his guests.
As he reached the expensively, indeed opulent entrance hall his heart rejoiced. Polish waiters scurried back and forth. A group of pageboys hovered by the door to await the guest of honour and plotter extraordinaire. Massive platters of caviar and smoked salmon were proceeding to the dining room the size of a helicopter hangar when such edifices used to exist.
Everything was so perfect. The Butler, dressed like a female character from The Story of O my Goodness was also loitering near the door. He felt a perfect balance from the household dust he had so expertly hoovered up; nothing could go wrong, could it? The doorbell chimed its Big Ben tones.
To be continued…………………
Grommet and Lady Grommet to be, greet their guests?