20 June 2008
Disaster at the Likely Estate
After a couple of days of jubilant celebrations, during which I was (quite rightly) hailed and revered as a returning hero (and thus plied with so many drinks and women I thought I had died and gone to some sort of sexy Heaven), now it was finally time for me to return to my not-at-all-humble home on the Likely Estate.
“Ah, home, sweet home!” I exclaimed as Botter and I disembarked from our carriage, and onto the familiar grounds of my Estate. “I think the first thing I shall do when I get in is to pour myself a large whisky, sit down, and maybe bash one out.”
“It’s a sight for sore eyes, milord,” Botter agreed. “I cannot wait to get back inside!”
“Overcome with emotion, are we Botter?” I smiled.
“No, milord. I’m rather overcome with luggage,” my man-servant replied, as he gamely struggled up the path with my numerous suitcases and hat-boxes. “I cannot wait to get inside and set all these down!”
I tutted and strolled on after my man-servant, until we came to a stop outside the front doors of my mansion.
“Well?” I said, expectantly.
“Well…what, milord?” Botter replied from behind the towering pile of suitcases.
“Well, aren’t you going to open the door for me, you loathsome wretch?”
“Um…well, my hands are rather full at the moment, milord, and the key is in your pocket, milord, so…”
“So you think I should open it myself, do you?” I snapped. “Well that’s cocking well marvellous, isn’t it? I mean, what is the ruddy point of having a man-servant if I am expected to do these things myself?”
“Sorry, milord. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Botter apologised, as he attempted to shift all my cases onto one arm.
“I should think so,” I snorted, as Botter’s free hand fumbled about in my waist-coat pocket in search of the door key.
“Um…milord, you do have the key, don’t you?” Botter asked nervously.
“Of course I do, you blathering cock-shaft! I never leave home without it!”
“It’s just that I can’t seem to find it, milord,” Botter continued as he searched my other pocket.
“Ye Gods!If one wants a job done properly, it seems one has to do it oneself! Let me look!” I yelled, pushing Botter away, which caused the unsightly urchin to lose his balance, and spill my luggage all over the floor.
“Oops,” Botter said.
“I swear, if anything is damaged, I shall be docking you of your pay. And quite possibly your limbs, as well,” I sighed, as I rummaged through my pockets for the ever-elusive front-door key. “Damnation! Where in the blasted blazes did I put that cocking key?”
My rigourous investigation of my pockets was interrupted suddenly by the front-door opening, and a large, thick-set man with a bald head and a rather nasty-looking scar stepped out onto the door-step.
“What do you want?” the man grunted.
“I…I beg your pardon?” I stuttered, slightly taken aback by this unexpected turn of events.
“What do you want?” the man repeated.
“Well, first of all, I want to know what the ruddy Hell you are doing in my house, you lumbering great ape,” I snapped.
However, before the Neanderthal could reply, another voice interrupted him from within the building.
“Who eees eet, Rocko?” the voice enquired in an Italian accent.
“Jus’ some goon in a top-hat,” Rocco replied.
“Excuse me?” I spluttered, but my furious indignation was cut short by the appearance of the second man, a thin chap with an even thinner moustache.
“Ah-hah!” he beamed. “Meeester Likely! How nice of you to stop by my ‘ouse!”
“YOUR house?” I roared. “Now listen here, you filthy pair of bastards, you have precisely ten seconds to remove your rancid posteriors from my home, or heaven help me, I shall remove your balls and use them to make a testicle kebab.”
“But meeester Likely,” grinned the second man, revealing a gold tooth. “Theees ees not your ‘ouse anymore, remember? I won eet fair and square.”
“What? What? WHAT the shit are you babbling on about?”
“You don’t recall? I cannot say I am much surprised, you were preety drunk at the time! You see, Meeeester Likely, you gambled theeese ‘ouse in a game of chance, and you lost, so now she is mine.” The man waved the house keys, and let another sickening grin creep across his face.
“Oh tits,” I said.
- Lord Likely.
Next time in The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely: will Likely ever set foot in the Likely Estate again?
humor-blogs.com gambled it all, and lost it all.
