Mon, February 06 2012
| TITLE: | A Sticky Situation |
|---|---|
| AUTHOR: | Patricia Colby |
| CATEGORY/TYPE: | Humor |
| RATING/WARNINGS: | G, Gen |
| MAIN CHARACTERS: | Phileas, Rebecca, Passepartout |
| DESCRIPTION: | it speaks for itself, I think. |
| STATUS: | Complete |
“Phileas, stop!”
“But, Rebecca, I’m almost there.”
“No, you’re not doing it right at all.”
“Are you saying you’ve had more experience at this than I have?”
“Well, you certainly act as if you’ve never done it before.”
“You’re just not used to having a man of finesse handle things.”
Rebecca groaned. “I wish Jules were here.”
“Oh come now. He wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“At least his equipment is smaller.”
“I thought bigger was better for something like this.”
“Not when you don’t know how to use it!”
“Oh fine. Here, let me try it another way.” A pause. “How’s that?”
“Better. But you’re still…ow!”
“Oh dear. That didn’t sound good.”
“Phileas! Would you please get your…”
At that moment Passepartout appeared in the doorway to announce tea. When he saw the situation, however, he quickly averted his eyes.
“Master, Miss Rebecca. I please to be begging your pardon. I did not know…”
Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank heavens. Someone who can finish the job properly.”
The valet looked horrified. “Me? Oh no, I…I could not…”
“Rebecca, I can do it myself!” Phileas insisted. “But, I, well, I must confess I could use a hand, Passepartout.”
“Master??”
“Or you could at least tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
Passepartout scratched his head. “How about you try twisting it.”
A few moments later. “Ow! Phileas, if you do that again I’ll pluck out your eyebrows!”
“No, good, Passepartout. Any other suggestions?”
“Hm.” Then the loyal valet snapped his fingers. “Got it! Just stay where you are. I be right back.”
“I hope he hurries up,” Phileas said with worry. “I’m going to lose my hold any second now.”
“Yes, and I’m starting to go numb!”
Passepartout returned and handed Phileas a jar.
“What’s this?”
“Mineral oil, master. Very good for…for getting things to move.”
“Ah. Well, Rebecca, what do you think?”
“I’ll try anything at this point.”
“All right. There. How does that feel?”
Rebecca made a noise of satisfaction and Passepartout took that as his cue to exit.
“Much better, Phileas. You can go ahead now.”
“Very good then. Brace yourself.”
“Oh, yes, Phil. One more time.”
“I think I’m getting it!”
“Yes, yes, that’s it, that’s…”
Passepartout heard a loud “pop” and sighed in relief. “Passepartout, you are a genius,” he muttered to himself.
Phileas and Rebecca lay back panting rapidly. Finally Phileas had breath enough to speak.
“My…dear…cousin. The next time…you manage…to get your big toe…caught in your bed frame…would you be so kind…as to not call me!”
The End