18 September 2007
Back on Track
July, 1856.
After leaving my room, stopping off only to roger a young serving lady on the way (to assure myself that I had not gone completely homosexual after my night with Abraham Lincoln), I ventured downstairs where my brother Ludlow and Botter were waiting for me. Ludlow was incandescent with rage.
“What is all this I hear about you diddling Mr. Lincoln?” he yelled at me as I casually strode down the stairs.
“Diddling?” I snorted. “I fucked him, if that is what you mean.”
“Don’t you know who he is? He is a powerful figure in the Republican Party, you know! People say that one day, he’ll be President!”
“Well, he was rather eager to let me enter his ‘Oval Office’,” I joked, a joke that did not seem to sit well with my rather uptight half-brother.
“This is not a laughing matter, Lordy,” he snarled. “I want you out of my house. NOW.”
“Well fine,” I replied coolly. “But I should warn you, Ludlow, that if you persist in being as easily stressed as you are, you shall be dead by the time you are thirty.”
“I am already thirty-eight, Lordy!”
“Well, that would certainly explain why you are no longer living. Come, Botter, we have a proper Likely to find. He may be a criminal with a penchant for cow-buggery, but I daresay that Lance Likely is far more alive than you shall ever be, Ludlow.”
With that, I tipped my hat and strode out of the house, Botter following close by. I flagged down a Hansom cab, and clambered aboard, demanding that we were taken to the train station post haste. As we prepared to depart, Ludlow appeared at the side of the carriage. His mood seemed somewhat sombre.
“Where you are going is very dangerous, Lordy. It is a place with no rules and no mercy. I think you should take this with you.” Ludlow passed me an old pistol, which looked like it had seen better days. “It belonged to our great-grandfather. He used it to shoot Turks.”
“Ah, during the Russo-Turkish war, I presume?’
“No. He just really hated Turks.”
We laughed together, then Ludlow put a hand on my arm.
“I’m sorry I was a trifle brusque back there, Lordy. You are always welcome in my home. And good luck finding dear Lance. When you finally find our poor, errant half-brother,” Ludlow leaned closer. “Kick him right in the balls for me.”
I smiled. “I certainly shall, Ludlow.”
“Hey, are we actually going now, or are you two queers gonna start kissing?” the cab driver yelled.
“Shut the fuck up, you awful little prick,” Ludlow screamed back. “Or Christ help me, I shall cut off your balls, feed them to your fucking horses, wait until they shit them back out again then cram them down your fucking throat!” The cab driver looked suitably terrified, and resumed his place at the reins of the carriage. I patted Ludlow warmly on the shoulder.
“Ha! You clearly are still alive, dear Ludlow. Alive and kicking! Look after yourself, and I shall see you again soon.”
Ludlow grinned, and withdrew from the carriage. I gave the driver the order to proceed, and we finally moved off. I waved to my brother as we drew away, watching as he receded into the distance.
And so we headed off on the next leg of our Astonishing American Adventure….
- Lord Likely.
