indeedsir_backup | Ficlet: Mrs Bingo's writer's block (Reply)

As there has been some plotting or what-have-you with the idea of purple prose and Jooster, here's something little for you all. (No, it's not smut or anything you probably would want...)

Title: Mrs Bingo’s writer’s block
Author:pipariperho
Rating: G
Characters: Mrs Little, Bertie, Jeeves
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Beta: The great chaoschick13 did the polishing. Thank you!

She didn’t know what to do anymore or, to be more precise, what to write anymore. She had already written about nearly every modest working-class girl there ever was falling in love with anonymous men, and she had already written all about these men too. Yes, she had actually written how the crown-prince fell in love with an ordinary hard-working but ever so vivid maid. It seemed to her that there was nothing left, but she had to write if she wanted to keep those little luxuries she had grown so fond of but were too expensive to her husband.

So once again she spent her day walking aimlessly in streets, drinking tea at various cafés and watching strangers go by, searching for inspiration but finding none. And once again at twilight, like every afternoon before this one, she gave up and decided to go home. The slowly falling darkness would have been beautiful with small snow-flakes drifting down but she couldn’t enjoy it.

She was trying to blow some warmth into her numb fingers; once again she had been outside for too long, when she saw two men. They made their way slowly, the one dressed modestly in black supporting the other who wore a top hat and shoes that seemed to have very peculiar colours. When the glow from the nearest lamp-post fell on their faces she recognized them: her husband’s eccentric friend with the manservant whose name she couldn’t recall.

“No, I won’t hear a word against these shoes anymore, Jeeves”, said the gentleman.
“Very good, sir”, replied the man in black with a polite voice.
“Oh, good evening, Mrs Little. How are you?” Mr Wooster greeted when they saw her.
“Good evening, Mr Wooster.” There was more polite chat of this and that until they parted a little later.

She had taken only a few steps when she turned to look those men. Mr Wooster had almost slipped, saved only by the man next to him.
“Oh, very well, Jeeves, I believe that you were once again right. You can dispose of these killers when we are home.”
“Thank you, sir”, said the valet and she could have bet all the money she had that he sounded pleased. She remained there watching them go with a small smile on her lips. When she could no longer see them, she moved and walked back to home.

She didn’t even greet her husband when she stepped inside their home and directly made her way to her study. It would be risqué, she knew that but the idea was too good to let pass so she took some fresh paper, her favourite pen and started to write. She didn’t hear when her husband opened the door and watched her work nor did she notice when he placed a cup of hot tea on her table some time later. She finally had something good to write.