This thread started on a forum Mike and I shared, when we started playing off each other about this alternative/fantasy persona we each gave ourselves. Since then, we’ve started writing a novel together and Mike has had a number of books published as Michael D. Griffiths (The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part I, The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part II, Eternal Aftermath) while I’ve been busy rewriting several books and establishing my Creative Writing classes at Northbrook College. But though he writes horror and I write sci fi, when we get together, we write… differently! So I thought I’d put a slice of our combined madness on my blog…
Oh dear, we are heading back to the castle I so recently escaped from. Oh my. At least Dahtoe is free. I wonder if he can get help?
Oh. The driver says we are being invited to dinner, along with the twenty MIB that are surrounding us. Jack and I finally share a laugh while we watch SJ preparing herself for the dinner.
‘One should always look their best for a proper formal meal. This man could be a Count or perhaps a Duke. I wonder if he’s married?’
‘He’s evil,’ Jack reminds her.
‘He’s probably loaded then, isn’t he?’ SJ continues to instruct us on proper manners with a zeal equal to her earlier cursing. I groan as we were finally led into the banquet hall.
I just HATE it when Mike puts words in my mouth, like that. And now, they’re CURSE words! As if I would let Aunt Gertrude down like that!
And it’s no good Mike and Jack rolling their eyes and making sarky comments when I gave them a crash course in table manners – they surely need it. Mike is just about on nodding terms with basic cutlery when he’s on his own – but get Jack sitting across the table and he just REVERTS. Ever watched a 2 year old eating a banana? Well, that’s more or less the level of finesse that the Dining Duo demonstrate when demolishing their food.
Oh no… Just look at this Banqueting Hall – the long table adorned with acres of crisp white damask tablecloth. Solid silver candlesticks loaded with white candles; their flickering light ricocheting off the glittering crystalware and shining ranks of cutlery. Oh my… look at this – soup spoons, fish knives and forks, main course, cheese knives. Ooo – and the napkins are folded into swans!
Wish I was wearing a nice dress… Aunt Gertrude would LOVE this. And the man seated to my right looks very… smooth. It’s always nice to see a man wearing a really well-fitted suit. Mmm like his aftershave. Trouble is – I’ve Jack sitting on my left. And is he excited or impressed with all this?
No – he’s got that scrunched look on his face – you know – like the grumpy garden gnome with the fishing rod who never catches anything… ‘Know what this fuss all means,’ he mumbles, jerking his head at the table. ‘Means they gonna muck ’bout with the chow. They’ll be spendin’ aller time bringin’ fancy-antsy stuff on plates. Two chews an’ it’ll be gone. Can’t ‘bide my chow bein messed with…’
Oh dear… I have a BAD feeling about this meal. ‘Please Jack, don’t do anything, now… Let’s make a good impression.’
‘Wanna make up yer min’ which side yer on, wimmin,’ he growls.
Here comes the starter… Ooo – caviar – yum! On waver-thin toast you can almost see through! Mm…
‘See? I tol yer. Fish eggs! That’s not gonna keep a man goin’, is it now?’
Oh no… Oh – Mike! Pstttt! Stop Little Wax Head Boy! He’s sliding out of your hair and making for the candles. And now he’s upset the wine cooler… Oh – I could just slide under the table from embarrassment! Let’s hope this doesn’t get any worse…