User:Orian57/UnProvise/UPR/Historical Drama
UnProvise Name: Historical Drama
Description: 18th Century Boring Historical Drama
Contributors: Cajek, YTTE, SysRq, and Nacky
Who Is Who: Cajek plays the madam of the manor, YTTE plays Joesphine, SysRq plays Sir Picklesworth, Nacky plays the Maid Servant
Madam, wearing a poofy white nightgown, runs through the house quite distressed: "Oh my! The feast of Saint Andrew 'tis almost upon us! Mary! Josephine! Whoever you are! Be sure to wear the prettiest dress to the dance, for the wealthy and handsome Lord Picklesworth is sure to be there!"
Josephine wakes, startled from her frightful nightmare, all in a sweat and hears Madam calling. She quickly slips on her own poofy white nightgown, very similar to Madam's, and hurries out into the corridor to see what all the commotion is about. "Oh, mother, it is so terribly late, we must get ourselves some sleep for Baron Pockleluck's visit tomorrow! We'll catch our deaths, standing out here! Come now, let us worry about the feast of Saint Andrew tomorrow! And oh mother, you do know how terribly I hate Lord Picklesworth!" says Josephine, quite exasperated.
"Oh fiddlefaddle! Baron Pockleluck will come to inspect the opium den for its license renewal? I shall tend to that my dear, you worry about earning the affection of Lord Picklesworth. Had you not realized that his estate is 40 acres? Do not fuss about how proud and tiresome he is, for I am sure you will not meet another man who could sway your affection and make you have to choose between true love and a life of comfort!" As Madam made the tea and forced Mary out of bed, her nightgown had somehow become twice as poofy, white, and self-important as before.
"40 acres?" Josephine mutters under her breath. She hurries after Madam, as Madam attends to her various self-appointed tasks. "Mother, you are silly. How did you ever manage to fool yourself into thinking that I don't love Lord Picklesworth? I can tell you, that I believe we are quite familiar. Last time I saw him, he allowed me to call him simply 'Picklesworth' rather than 'Sir Picklesworth'. Oh I do hope we'll get married some time. He's so dashing and handsome!"
Madam, who was dashing about the house in a most rushed and hurried fashion, stopped when she heard the news. "Oh! He still forces me to call him Baron Duke Sir Lord Sir Picklesworth, but maybe that's because I am a hideous old woman with snaggletooth syndrome! I'm sure that ol' Pickles will make you a proper husband, unlike that dashing but incredibly poor gardner who danced with you on the Feast of Saint Bartholomew!" Madam paused, then started moving again, then paused, then adjusted her outrageous nightgown, then began moving once more.
"Oh mother!" says Josephine, in quite a distressed manner, "Don't talk about your snaggletooth syndrome, you know how it upsets me, especially since they discovered it's passed from mother to daughter. And oh mother, don't use slang and call gentle Picklesworth, Pickles, you know how he wold hate to here that. And mother, I woke up this morning with blood between my legs! It's a most pressing matter I had to bring up, you don't think I've inherited snaggletooth syndrome, already, do you?" Josephine looks most flustered at her last thought and continues to follow Madam around.
"Snaggletooth? I do hope that you haven't got the ol' snaggles, for that would prove most unwise in earning Pickle's affections! Maybe you could get that poor, rundown, but somewhat dashing gardner to shape those teeth for you, as he shaped the huge topiary of you in the front park! Oh, and dear, the next time you mention bodily happenings, please mention them in the bodily happenings room. Why else would we build such a room if we wanted to hear about all your bodily happenings?"
Picklesworth, the dashingly handsome and wealthy gentleman enters. His condescending voice is hardly audible over the coins jingling in his pockets. "Pardon me," he exhales, "but you butler's servant's white slave let me in. Perhaps I could borrow your bodily happenings room...that is, if you do not need to use it yourself." He let out a snobbish chuckle that sounded much like the money in his pockets, making him more handsome and dashing than ever before.
Josephine quickly shows Picklesworth to the bodily happenings room and then whispers to her mother. "Mother" whispered Josephine irritably, "we have a room called the drawing room, no one draws in there and we have a room called the commoner room, and yet you still talk about that confounded gardener, here!" Josephine flattens a few creases in her swooshy nightgown. "That dashingly handsome, brave young man with his dark, rugged eyes and his course hands is really a silly person. I love Picklesworth! I know the gardener has been most kind to me of late, what with the diamond necklace that he took the liberty of buying for me, but he's only a commoner" Josephine sighs, as she think about his handsome, clear cut face and then turns her mind to Picklesworth and his chubby, red features...and his forty acres. "There's no comparison, Picklesworth is by far the most hansome" concludes Josephine.
"Oh! It's good ol' Pickley-wickley! You're not at all like that far more interesting gardner-" Suddenly, outside, thunder cracks, even though the sky is completely clear- "-that gardner who I would never accept as a son-in-law!" Madam looks around and slaps Lord Picklesworth full across the mouth for not introducing himself to her when he entered the manor, then hugs him for being rich. "You sir, are nothing at all like that filthy gardner-" Suddenly, inside, a cabinet door falls off and crashes to the floor, even though the sky is completely clear- "-like that gardner whose mere presence threatens your relationship with my daughter!"
Picklesworth looks down his chin at Madam, being very condescending but at the same time being so terribly charming and polite. "Pardon me," he half-whined, "but I think I may have stepped in a pile of bodily happenings discharge. Might it have belonged to you? If you were thinking of saving it for a later occasion or dinner party, then you have my deepest apologies." He now turned to Josephine, whom he does indeed wish to marry, but for no reason other than to acquire the estate to which she was heiress. "And how does this fine evening find you, my succulent little polo horse who had a broken leg and we had to shoot on the spot because animal life is expendable when you're as wealthy and handsome as I am?"
Slaps the shit out of Picklesworth. "You know you deserved it, ass of a thousand barbarian farts," the maid servant admonished. "and you'll be getting a tree-trunk upside the head if I find any more of your evil layouts in the lab-er-dungeon to have the monks fried in water sauce. Leave the Tibetans alone or they'll leave you!" The maid servant picks up the teapot and goblets and carries them away, kicking the rugs back into place, muttering something swine. Stopping suddenly, she swings back around. "Why are you all drinking tea out of the goblets? There were wine glasses in the kitchen, you barnyard monkeys from a bygone era of jungly ape aged...apes." The maid servant always talked like that to her employers.
Picklesworth stands there for a moment, stunned by such insolence and impoliteness. He becomes lost in a trance, barely able to stand, his head swimming, his eyes wandering. A bulge becomes visible in his trousers. "Dear God," he finally said after what seemed like an eternity, "I'm in love." He leaves the scene to chase Maid Servant.
"This doesn't bode well for the feast of Saint Andrew!" said Madam and everyone lived ever after.
THE END
Historical Drama has been deemed "finished" and has reached its natural conclusion, please don't continue it. If you disagree with this please take up the matter on this UnProvise's talkpage. |
 Merited UnProvisationHistorical Drama was awarded an UnProvise Merit on 1 June 2008 and is considered to be a great UnProvise. It's totally sexy and has awesome legs.
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