17 July 2007
One in the Eye for Doctor Corkscrews
“Bollocks,” I exclaimed, as Doctor Corkscrews continued to advance upon me, seemingly hell-bent on running me through with his two bottle-opening devices.
“Do not try to resist, yer lordship,” he growled, “it’ll only hurt for a while…heh, heh, heh.”
“Why not, may I ask? It seems I rather have the upper-hand, after all. Here I am, with two corkscrews that I fully intend to plunge into your stupid, fat throat…and you? You are weaponless, yer lordship. Or had you forgotten?”
“Au contraire, my dear doctor,” I replied coolly. “I think you will find that I have a very powerful weapon right here in my hand.”
The doctor looked down, and beheld my mighty Lord Palmerston, still throbbing away madly. I had been caught in the vinegar strokes when the doctor had intruded upon my ejaculatory evacuations, and my fully-loaded flesh cannon was more than ready to burst forth with my lordly juices.
“Ready or not,” I said, giving my proud member a couple more strokes, “here I COME!”
With that, my Lord Palmerston finally let issue an almighty stream of my mighty-man batter, which flew across the room and right into the hapless doctor’s eyes. He screamed, and put his hands up to his face in horror, dropping his corkscrews as he did so. Seeing my chance, I leapt off the toilet seat and grabbed the murderous medic, and then I forced his head down into the lavatory bowl. He thrashed about wildly for a while, then his body went limp as he finally expired.
“It is terrible to see such a promising career go down the toilet,” I wise-cracked, making a mental note to jot that particular gem down for future posterity. At that point, a young lad entered the bathroom.
“I heard a ruckus, sir, so I thought I’d just…oh!” he said, as he noticed the late doctor’s form bent over the toilet seat, with me stood behind him, carefully pulling my trousers back up. “Oh, I see. Terribly sorry to intrude, sirs.” Before I had a chance to explain that I was not indulging in a spot of buggery with the doctor, the young man had vanished. I sighed.
As I cleaned up, I began to wonder who on earth this Doctor Corkscrews was – or had been – and why he had wanted to kill me. Was he just a lone lunatic, or was there someone else, someone who may well have hired the doctor to terminate me? In short, what in the name of Greek sodomy was going on here?
The questions continued to run through my head as I made my way back to my luxurious cabin, and so distracted was I, that I failed to notice that the door to my room was unlocked, and left ajar. I casually strode in, still ruminating heavily on the evening’s events, when I suddenly realised that something was awfully amiss. I looked back at the door, then back into the room and noticed it was a terrible mess, with my luggage strewn about haphazardly all over the place, drawers emptied, glasses smashed.
“BOTTER!” I called, loudly. “What the cock is going on here? Come here and clean this mess up at once, or heaven help me, I shall beat you until your arse is nothing more than a bloody stump.”
There was an eerie silence. Usually, my threats of outright physical violence terrify Botter into action, but this time he did not come running. I began to get an all-too familiar feeling of dread, as I contemplated the facts.
Botter, it seemed, had been kid-napped, which was mightily inconvenient. I would no doubt have to go and rescue the little toad, and when I had done so, I would be sure to dock his pay for wasting my precious time.
- Lord Likely.