Weekly Drabble Challenge
Jul. 31st, 2013 01:56 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Rules:
1) A drabble is, by definition, a 100-word story therefore all responses should be 100 words exactly, no exceptions.
2) You may also choose to respond to this challenge with a five-minute sketch.
3)PLEASE put the word DRABBLE at the top of your post. That way people can easily spot the drabbles in amongst any reader comments they receive.
RATING:I don't think this should be limited so reader beware that they could be any rating (you could put it in the subject line if you feel it needs it)
1) A drabble is, by definition, a 100-word story therefore all responses should be 100 words exactly, no exceptions.
2) You may also choose to respond to this challenge with a five-minute sketch.
3)PLEASE put the word DRABBLE at the top of your post. That way people can easily spot the drabbles in amongst any reader comments they receive.
RATING:I don't think this should be limited so reader beware that they could be any rating (you could put it in the subject line if you feel it needs it)
PLEASE try to remember to make each drabble a comment in response to the original post. That way, if the comments start to collapse, the drabbles themselves should remain visible.
This week, your mission is: Crossovers! Jeeves and Bertie meet another favorite character of yours from a completely different series. The less appropriate, the better.
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Date: 2013-07-31 11:40 pm (UTC)Dear old metrop’, I thought, and said as much to Jeeves.
“Indeed,” he said. “Although - “
“Underpants on top?” I said. “Bit much?”
“Indeed, sir.”
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Date: 2013-08-01 03:26 am (UTC)I shrieked manfully and clutched at Jeeves, whose raised eyebrow bespoke the depth of his concern. O laws, I'm dying!
And this: Dear old metrop’, I thought, and said as much to Jeeves.
Superman was even created in the 30's so this could really happen. Really. Thanks for the laugh!
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Date: 2013-08-01 03:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-01 07:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-01 07:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-01 09:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-03 05:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-01 03:45 am (UTC)Someday I hope to write a serious Chan & Wooster murder mystery.
*~@~@~*
“Sir? If we are not suspects?” Jeeves addressed the detective.
“We aren’t, are we? I mean, Mr. Chan…”
“No suspicion, Mr. Wooster. Wise proverb observes: “Man with two hands on piano has none left for gun.”
“If I can help?”
“Might humble policeman suggest gentleman retire to room?”
“Right. Jeeves?” You don’t mind if he comes with me, do you, Detective Chan? I just…well… I can’t do without him.”
“Quite understood.” Chan signaled the uniformed officers that Wooster and his man were free to go. “Worthy valet gets man dressed, but dearer still is valet who gets man undressed.”
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Date: 2013-08-01 03:51 am (UTC)Excellent! I love the crossover, and the last line!
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Date: 2013-08-01 07:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-01 07:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-01 09:42 pm (UTC)This was hysterical!
; - )
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Date: 2013-08-02 02:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-02 06:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-02 06:41 am (UTC)Bertie would tell you that he is singularly please when Jeeve's fondles... I mean handles... his business. In fact, no one else has ever had such a pleasing grip on Bertie's personal resources. So much so that Bertie finds things get rather hard when Jeeves is not there to take matters in hand.
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Date: 2013-08-02 06:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-03 12:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-03 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-01 09:53 pm (UTC)skyJooster ...“I say, Jeeves.” Bertie looked up from beneath a bewildered coverlet.
“Yes, sir?”
“I seem, rather, to erm… Why is everything all brown and dingy? And why are you wearing a shirt that says ‘Shiny’?”
Jeeves opened his mouth, but a voice from outside cut him off.
“River! I done told you not to play with that Wuh duh ma huh tah duh fong kwong duh wai shung ‘time and place machine’ near the bookshelf.”
“That will be Malcolm Reynolds, sir, our captain.”
“Whatsit?”
“We appear to be aboard a space ship, sir.”
“Ah, rather. And where are our trousers?”
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Date: 2013-08-02 06:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-02 06:59 am (UTC)Don't panic.
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Date: 2013-08-02 07:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-02 12:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-02 01:00 pm (UTC)Upon our arrival Gussie met us with the tale of his star-crossed love for Madeleine. I soothed him with promises of aid and installed him in a deck-chair, his lips still quivering in piscine dismay. Moments later, Jeeves shimmered onto the Totleign lawn bearing libation and what proved upon inspection to be cucumber sandwiches.
I piled my plate high and took a bite, just as the skies opened and disgorged a spaceship, which settled on tripod legs half-on and half-off the flagstone pavement.
A gangway unfolded from the ship’s side, knocking over a large and ornamental statue of the poet Wordsworth, which landed on its side, nose broken away. It goggled at me like a discombobulated Sphinx. I goggled back.
The alien strode down the ramp, loomed over Jeeves, picked up a sandwich, sniffed it and made a noise like a disappointed tea-kettle. It threw it away and came towards us. Stopping by Gussie’s chair, it pulled out a clipboard and nodded curtly.
“Augustus Fink-Nottle?” it snapped.
Gussie stared at it. It made a peremptory hurry-up gesture. He trembled slightly, and it nodded mockingly back at him until, with no obvious volition, Gussie’s head began to nod as well.
At this point it said, with no particular emphasis, “You’re a witless inbred schmuck. I just thought you should know that,” upon which it turned on its heel and retreated down the lawn and back to the pavement, up the ramp and into the spaceship. The gangway closed and the tripod legs retracted, leaving the saucer hanging motionless over the lawn for a second too long before drifting away into the distance.
I tried to speak, but choked instead on the morsel of uneaten sandwich. Jeeves dropped the tray and, pulling me out of my seat, pushed firmly at my abdomen. I disgorged the item and joined Wordsworth on the floor, breathing heavily.
At length, I managed to ask, “What was that?”
“The Heimlich manoeuvre, sir.”
“Not that,” I said, and recalling that the man holding my shoulders was a dream-rabbit and a favourite valet I forebore to add “you silly ass"; instead, I went with “the spaceship!”
“I should say it was a Type 11,” said Jeeves, “with custom running-boards.”
Wordsworth and I went back to the silent goggle tactic.
Jeeves reached in to a pocket and pulled something out, a bakelite-framed thing bearing the legend ‘Don’t panic’. He opened it. It beeped. “As I thought,” he said. “Type 11.”
“Jeeves,” I said, twisting around to look into his eyes. “Would it save you a lot of trouble if I just gave up and went mad now?”
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Date: 2013-08-02 06:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-03 12:38 am (UTC)Anyone for a Wooster's Guide To The Galaxy drabble challenge? ;-)
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Date: 2013-08-03 01:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-03 01:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-05 02:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-05 02:01 am (UTC)And, yes, one must always know where one's trousers are.
no subject
Date: 2013-08-03 03:46 am (UTC)*****
“I say, Cranston.” Bertram Wooster peered up from his periodical. “What’s with the oversized scarf? And that hat!” He hesitated to criticize a fellow clubman, especially when he was a visitor at the American branch, but Lamont’s togs were a bit beyond.
“I AM THE SHADOW.”
“Right-ho. Charades.” This explained – if not excused - the odd costume. Also why none of the other members took the slightest notice of the dark figure lurking in their dining room. He had worried that they were ignoring the man out of embarrassment at his outré antics. “Always time for party games.” Bertie himself preferred darts, or the old-fashioned card toss, but being (as mentioned) a guest he was more than eager to show willing and play along. “I’m topping at charades. Or trivia. Ask me a question.”
“WHO KNOWS WHAT EVIL LURKS IN THE HEARTS OF MEN?”
Ah. Starting with the easy one. Bertie smiled. “That would be my man Jeeves. Fine grasp of the psychology of the individual, dontcha know?"
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Date: 2013-08-03 05:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-03 11:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-05 02:04 am (UTC)\o/
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Date: 2013-08-03 05:18 pm (UTC)“It is traditional to rule from the Iron Throne, Your Grace,” the King’s Hand replied unsympathetically.
“It’s a funny business,” I mused, “there I was, ankling around the metrop, trying to avoid my cousins’ ghastly plots, and suddenly you’re saying that one Bertram Lannister is the only surviving heir, and bunging a spiffy gold crown on the old bean. I mean, it seems a bit suspish that all the royal contenders killed each other off.”
“Indeed, Your Grace.”
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Date: 2013-08-03 11:37 pm (UTC)Corking!
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Date: 2014-01-05 02:05 am (UTC)<3
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Date: 2013-08-04 06:28 am (UTC)Although I believe this one has been more-or-less done already.
**** **** ****
“Just what we need, Jeeves. A quiet, uneventful weekend in the county.”” Bertie gave a small bounce on the edge of the soft mattress. The room to which his hostess has directed the pair was –to his view – utterly delightful. Set at the farther end of the upper floor, meaning he had his own fireplace and bath chamber, yet far larger than one might expect from a suite rebuilt from the old servants quarters. The paint was fresh, the windows clear, and the view of the tennis court and golf course downright artistic. Best of all, the new layout meant that Jeeves was officially lodged in the dressing room, meaning that he could unofficially join the young master for Bertie’s favorite country exercise. “Smashing of Tommy and Tuppence to invite us down, what?”
“If you say so, sir.” Jeeves was unpacking Bertie’s country suits with a demeanor several notches less than gruntled.
“Jeeves. You sound a bit ‘grenouille’ – if you will pardon my French. And a rather stuffed example at that. What could our host possibly have done to offend you so?”
Bertie had thought Tommy’s black-and-white Harris tweed with the back belt to be most proper. Conservative, even.
“Forgive me, sir.” Jeeves paused, clearly in thought. “I will grant that our host and hostess have been most generous in their invitation. I am just hesitant at their motivation.”
“Oh that.” Bertie’s smile was bright. “Tommy and I were…”
“At school together”, Jeeves finished. “But I doubt one could say the same of the other guests.”
“Well no.” It had seemed an odd recipe for a house party when he had been introduced. Bertie conceded. The three other guests had been a bit… different… Not the usual crowed, the bulk of whom would need no introduction. “You were the one off at the girls school.”
For all his social whirl, Bertie didn’t really meet a lot of new people, except when one aunt or another popped by with a potential Mrs. B.W.
“Oh!” Bertie jumped up. “I say Jeeves. You don’t think this is Aunt Agatha setting up another engagement? I mean the Marple woman has to be ten years older self… “
“Unlikely, sir. As you observe, Miss Marple is of a most unsuitable age for the role of accidental fiancée.”
“Well then.” Bertie let himself back down.
“But relief on one point does not explain why Mr. and Mrs. Beresford chose to add her to the company.” Jeeves pressed his argument. “Added to which are the questions about the Belgian gentleman.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Poirot.” Seeing his master’s blank expression, Jeeves amended, “the small man with the moustache.”
Bertie blinked. “I thought he was Captain Arthur Hastings’ man.”
“No sir. Mr. Hercule Poirot is a detective, not the Captain’s valet.” By tone Jeeves implied that were he a valet H.P. would be very much below expectations. Likewise that – as a detective – the jury was very much still out – but were generally inclined to a regrettable harshness of judgment. “Indeed, I believe that Captain Hastings works for him.”
“Well that’s a bit of a change.” Bertie didn’t bother hiding his surprise. In general the men of his acquaintance didn’t take employment, and when they did it was at sundry schemes far more fantastic (and generally vastly shorter lived) than criminal investigation. “But then, what of it?” Bertram rallied. “In these democratic times one must not quibble. I always said you could manage as Prime Minister if you got the impulse.”
“A Prime Minister would be welcome, sir. A detective – a foreign detective – would seem rather less conventional.”
“Dash convention, Jeeves.” Bertie turned all argument aside. “Dash it, I say, and blast this gloom as well. Put aside all quibbles over detective chappies disguising themselves as inadequate valets and tweedy matrons striving to be aunts-in-training. We are in the country, with snail on thorn and lark on wing, and we likewise will rest in peace.”
“Exactly what I fear, sir.”
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Date: 2014-01-05 02:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-05 02:09 am (UTC)“Sir? Please wake up,” Jeeves said, voice sounding increasingly clear. “Miss Gale assures me the effects of the poppies will wear off soon enough.”
“Miss who?” Bertie mumbled upon reaching a more vertical posish. “I say, where the deuce are we? No flying monkeys about, eh?” Semi oblivious to Jeeves’ dusting him off, Bertie’s eyes lit upon a young lady standing nearby with a little scotty dog under her arm. He smiled a slightly-blurry but sweet smile at her. “Hullo, there, Miss… Gale, is it?”
Miss Gale’s lips pulled into a shy smile and Jeeves sighed softly, rolling his eyes.
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Date: 2014-01-05 02:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-05 02:44 am (UTC)Ahhh, you're right, I was picturing 'Movie Dorothy' rather than 'Book Dorothy'. I'll be sure to make that distinction when I post on m'blog(s).
So, yeah, with the book version, Bertie would be safe from unwanted engagements, but perhaps not the twinkly-eyed admiration of a young girl for a handsome 'older man'. *snirk*
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Date: 2014-01-05 06:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-05 06:07 am (UTC)OH! What if GLENDA set her cap for Bertie? O. M. G.
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Date: 2014-01-05 06:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-05 06:12 am (UTC)