27 January 2009
One in the Oven
Previously in The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely: Having been hot on the trail of a villainous bootblack who was severing the feet of his customers, Lord Likely quickly discovered that the bootblack was merely a pawn in another diabolical scheme – Mrs. Bapps the baker had hired the fellow to remove the feet so that she might use them in her baked goods. Upon confronting Mrs. Bapps, however, his lordship was swiftly duped by a cake shaped like breasts, which was laced with sleeping pills, rendering his lordship completely and utterly unconscious…
I AWOKE with a start, which was just as well, for had I awoken with a finish, I would undoubtedly have been dead.
I woke to find myself in a large, dank cellar – hardly an auspicious location for one as noble as I. Furthermore, I was strapped to a conveyor belt which seemed to be slowly conveying me towards a large, open, bake oven at the other end of the room. I turned my head to find that Inspector Spunkleford was similarly restrained beside me, and was completely out cold.
“Good heavens!” I cried. “She didn’t dupe you too, did she, Spunkleford? My word, what a cunning harlot she must be, to outwit a police inspector in her very own – ”
“Sorry?” said Spunkleford, stirring from his slumber. “What’s going on? I must have nodded off back there…probably wore myself out with all that vomiting, you know. Where on earth am I?”
I sighed and nodded my head sadly. It really was a wonder that London was not completely overrun with criminals, with imbecilic inspectors like Spunkleford on the force.
“Well, Spunkleford, in answer to your question: it rather looks like we are being ferried into a large oven, wherein I assume we are to be baked in our own jackets.”
“Egads!” exclaimed Spunkleford. “I…I cannot move, Likely!”
“No. Irritating, isn’t it?”
“So…so what are we going to do, Likely? Come on, man! You’ve been in tighter spots than this!”
“I dare say I have…there were those delightful young twins from the village, for example…” I replied, my eyes glazing over as I recalled the most arousing memory.
“That…that is not what I meant, and you know it!” Spunkleford wailed, panic filling his portly form. “You must have an escape plan, eh? An…an astonishing escape plan?”
“I am afraid not, Spunkleford. I really cannot see a way out of this one, old boy…”
Spunkleford gulped. “Then…then we’re done for?”
“We shall be well-done, at any rate,” I deadpanned.
Just as I was enjoying my own spectacular wit, the door to the cellar creaked open and Mrs. Bapps herself entered.
“Alright, gents?” she said in a deceptively cheery tone, belying her evil intentions.
“I have been rather better, to be honest,” I answered.
“I am sorry to hear that,” she grinned as she descended the steps into the cellar. “Still, it will all be over soon, sir, and then you will find a new lease of life as a delicious treat for my customers! Won’t that be marvellous?”
“Not really. In fact, I think I’d rather be…well, not cooked, to be quite frank.”
“Nonsense, sir! I am going to make you into quite a special dish indeed! I am going to call it ‘The Upper Crust‘…isn’t that clever, sir? I came up with that name all by myself, you know. And I know you will be simply delicious! I have, after all…tasted you already…” she smiled, running her tongue suggestively around her luscious lips. I felt my todger twitch with excitement. She may have been a twisted fiend, but she was a ruddy gorgeous twisted fiend.
“What about me?” blurted Spunkleford. “What will become of me?”
“You,” sniffed Mrs. Bapps, “will become some lardy cake.”
I chuckled. “That is actually rather witty, you know…” I began, but thought better of continuing my praise upon catching sight of Spunkleford’s furious gaze. “Ahem…anyway…you are quite clearly insane, woman! You shall not get away with this!” I bellowed, whilst secretly thinking that she actually probably would.
It was then that I noticed we had stopped moving. For whatever reason, the conveyor belt was no longer conveying.
Mrs. Bapps noticed this as well, and looked around in an utterly bewildered fashion, until her eyes rested on a large lever next to the oven, besides which stood…my man-servant, Botter. Never before had I been so pleased to see his wretched, stinking form.
“Sorry I was late, milord,” Botter apologised.
“Better late than never, Botter! Although I may have to…”
“Dock my wages?”
“You know me so well, Botter.” I grinned. “Oh, and Botter?”
“Yes, milord?”
“If I were you I would duck, for it seems there is a rather mad baker headed towards you with a staggeringly large bread-knife.”
“Righto, milord,” Botter replied, and swiftly ducked just as Mrs. Bapps swung at his head with the bread-knife. Botter rolled across the floor and scooped up a rolling pin from nearby, then jumped to his feet and turned just in time to block another attack from Mrs. Bapps.
What followed was a rather surreal duel betwixt man-servant and baker; one armed with a bread-knife, the other wielding a rolling-pin. Botter proved surprisingly nimble and elegant, which was remarkable considering the number of broken bones he has had to endure over the years.
Mrs. Bapps slashed and hacked at my man-servant with frenzied aplomb, but Botter coolly deflected each blow with his rolling-pin. It was almost enough to make me feel proud of the chap, if he was not so terribly repugnant and smelt of urine all the time.
After about five minutes of this action, Botter finally knocked the knife from Mrs. Bapps hand, and had her pressed up against the wall, his rolling-pin pushed firmly against her throat.
“Bravo, Botter!” roared Spunkleford, very much relieved.
“Huzzah!” I cheered. “Just what we kneaded, Botter! Haha! Kneaded! Come on, Mrs. Bapps, you must appreciate that baking-based pun, surely?”
Mrs. Bapps could only manage a gargled moan in return.
“What shall I do with her, milord?” Botter asked, keeping his captive firmly in place.
That was an uncommonly good question from my typically moronic man-servant. What should be done with Mrs. Bapps?
- Lord Likely.
What Should Be Done With Mrs. Bapps?
What Should Be Done With Mrs. Bapps?
( polls)
Well, dear readers, now YOU must help to shape this most astonishing of adventures! Simply select one of the options above, and then click ‘vote’ to cast your…well, vote. After the poll has closed, the most popular choice will be the one pursued in the very next chapter of Lord Likely’s Incredible Inter-Active Adventure! Exciting, yes? YES.
Furthermore, if you leave a comment outlining your choice (and the reasons therefore), then one specially-selected commentator will be selected to receive a FREE link to their website or blog in the next thrilling chapter! Woooooh!
Last Week’s Worthy Winner: Dear Olga, The Travelling Bra – surely the inspiration behind (or should that be in front) the boob-shaped cake. Lord bless you, m’dear!
ATTENTION! His Lordship’s newest enterprise, Lord Likely’s Emporium of Excellent Things, is still open for business! So why not treat your torsos to a terrific t-shaped shirt, or purchase fine beverage holders or pin-badges bearing his lordship’s rugged features? Double-quick, now!
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