02 February 2009
Wherein Mrs. Bapps Is Given The Boot
Previously in The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely: this happened.
“I was thinking of a rather more...interesting punishment than that, m’dear,” said I, struggling – fruitlessly – to escape the bonds which bound me to the conveyor belt. “I thought, for instance, that I might start off by putting you in shackles…”
“Oh God,” sighed Inspector Spunkleford, still shackled beside me.
“Then I propose to give you a damned good spanking, and then once that is done I shall…”
“Blast it, Likely!” cried Spunkleford, unable to contain his despair. “The woman is an evil, twisted lunatic!”
“Well, no-body’s perfect, Spunkleford. Furthermore, she does have a fantastically cracking pair of knockers on her.”
“I cannot do it, Likely!” bellowed Spunkleford. “I cannot lie here and watch you side-step the law just so you can get in a bit of….rumpy-pumpy!”
“I do not see that you have much choice, dear Inspector,” I smiled. “Botter, come, untie me at once!”
“Yes milord,” Botter nodded, but no sooner had he turned away from Mrs. Bapps then did she leap upon him, and knock him to the floor.
“Egads, Botter!” I exclaimed. “Never turn your back on a woman, you fool! They are the most cunning and devilish of all God’s creatures!”
“Sorry, milord,” Botter apologised, in between several blows to the head from the crazed Mrs. Bapps. “My mistake!”
“Your mistake indeed,” I sighed, as Mrs. Bapps knocked Botter out cold with a triumphant scream. Then she swept her bread-knife up off the floor, and waved it menacingly in my direction.
“Damn, blast and sod it all to buggery, Likely!” Spunkleford blustered. “I knew your penis would wind up getting us killed one of these days.”
I did not reply, despite having a ready supply of stupendously witty quips at my disposal. I had to begrudgingly admit that Spunkleford may have been right, a suspicion which I had the terrible feeling was going to be affirmed any moment, as Mrs. Bapps advanced upon me with her weapon.
“Now…what were you saying, sir?” she grinned, brandishing the blade perilously close to my immaculately groomed moustache. “Something about a punishment, wasn’t it?”
“You heard correctly, my dear,” I replied calmly. “At least you still have one of your senses left…”
“Oh, quite the joker, aren’t we?” Mrs. Bapps said, as she clambered atop me, and straddled my body. “Let us see how long you can keep it up, sir.”
“I have never had any problems in that department, I assure you,” I quipped.
“I am going to have one last ride, sir,” Mrs. Bapps whispered, while she set about unfastening my trousers. “I will take you to Heaven…before I plunge you into HELL!” she cackled, swishing the knife about in front of me.
“It is just as well I am not a religious man,” I muttered, as Mrs. Bapps liberated my Lord Palmerston from my under-pants. “Still, there are worse ways to go, I suppose…”
However, just as things were about to get interesting, a boot suddenly appeared out of nowhere, striking Mrs. Bapps firmly in the temple. She let out a faint moan, then slid off me and landed in a crumpled heap on the ground below. I looked up to see who had dared to interrupt my near-death nookie, and saw that wretched bootblack, Mr. Swishbuckle, standing in the doorway, his face pale with shock.
“Daphne!” he cried, taking the steps two at a time. “My dear Daphne!“
“Daphne?” I repeated. “Who the ruddy hell is Daphne?”
“Oh, Daphne,” gasped Mr. Swishbuckle, picking up the boot he had just hurled, and cradling it gently in his arms . “I am so sorry my sweet, sweet Daphne. I never meant to hurt you…can you ever forgive me?”
“Of course she cannot forgive you, you blithering fool!” I spluttered.
“Because I have betrayed her so?” sobbed Mr. Swishbuckle.
“No, because she is a FUCKING BOOT, you shoe-shagging shit-crust!”
“You don’t know Daphne like I know Daphne,” Mr. Swishbuckle cooed. “She is very forgiving, and will come to forgive me in time, I am sure. And the make up sex will be phenomenal.“
I felt utterly revulsed by the depraved wretch before me, but not quite as revulsed as I felt upon seeing Botter stagger back to his feet again, rubbing the back of his head gingerly.
“Wha…what happened?” the miserable cove asked blearily.
“Nothing that will compare with what WILL happen should you insist in dily-dallying any further…now ruddy untie me, you twatting great spunk-bubble!”
WELL, this has certainly proven to be one of my stranger cases, and that is rather saying something, seeing as how I’ve encountered murderous prostitutes, undead gentle-men, lesbian pirates and randy monsters in my time. But a shoe-humping bootblack and a baker who puts feet into cakes must surely rank up there with such astonishing adventures.
In the end, after Botter finally untied Spunkleford and I, the fellons were arrested and put on trial. Both were found guilty on several charges, ranging from petty theft to indecent assault upon non-consenting footwear. Naturally, both were duly sent to prison.
Mrs. Bapps managed to fit in quite well with her fellow inmates, and found herself quite popular on account of her ability to bake files into cakes. Mr. Swishbuckle, however, could not bear to be apart from his shoe wives, and was discovered dead in his cell, having (rather ironically) hung himself with his own bootlaces. He left a note saying he had entered into a suicide pact with his ‘dear Kenneth‘, which I presume was the name he had bestowed upon the boot from whence the laces came.
As for Mr. Swishbuckle’s apprentice, he was found innocent of any great crime, but for aiding and abetting a known fellon he was made to spend many days cleaning out the hundred of pairs of shoes Mr. Swishbuckle had defiled.
Mr. Poots still has no feet, but has been thrilled to discover the great savings he has made on purchasing shoes and boot-polish.
I am still utterly fabulous.
- Lord Likely.
His lordship thanks each and every one of you who have voted and/or commented on each chapter of this Incredible Inter-Active Adventure. He only wishes he could inter-act with you all a lot more personally. Many thanks indeed!
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!
THE LIKELY EMPIRE! Do not forget, dear readers, you can also join his lordship on Twitter, where he writes almost daily, penning anything from terrible puns to complete, miniature adventures for your enjoyment! Befriend him now at http://twitter.com/lordlikely
Next Time In The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely: Something different…