21 September 2008
A Very Old Flame
We all headed towards the large, oak doors of St. Bumthrusty’s School for Boys; Botter lagging slightly behind the rest of us, nursing his freshly clobbered cranium.
‘Class of 1832, Please Proceed This Way‘, read a sign affixed to the door, an arrow indicating that we should head around the side of the building, and enter via the back-door.
“Pffft,” I snorted dismissively, tearing the sign down. “We aristocrats never use the side-door, and we certainly never use the back-door!”
“That’s not what I had heard,” Inspector Spunkleford commented wryly.
I raised a weary eyebrow at the disrespectful detective, then I pushed the heavy old doors wide open, and went back to school.
My eyes widened as I beheld the all-too familiar surroundings; ghosts of my past shuffling silently through the empty corridors; raucous, disembodied laughter echoing down the winding staircases; the sound of a spectral school-bell ushering the apparitions of my school-days back to their classrooms.
It was quite enough to drive a man to drink, I can tell you. Luckily, I had already been driven to drink and left there many years before, and so I swigged heartily from my hip-flask as more memories jostled for position in my noble head.
“Bugger me,” I said finally. “I fear this nostalgia is becoming rather too much. So many ruddy memories…”
“Lord Likely?” an unfamiliar voice interjected. “Lord Likely, is that you?”
This was the second time I had been successfully recognised from behind in one day. I suppose that is what comes of having such unforgettably pert and muscular buttocks as I do.
I turned around slowly, and beheld the sight of a rather stern-looking old lady, dressed all in black, seated on an old wicker chair. I did not instantly recognise this elderly crone, but as I leant forward and looked into her eyes, I saw a flicker, a spark, that I had seen many times before.
“Good heavens!” I gasped, drawing back in horror. “Mrs. Agnes Cum-Loudly?”
“Oh-hoh!” beamed the old buzzard, revealing a smile bereft of teeth. “So you still remember your old Latin teacher, do you? Still remember my little pet-name, I hear!”
“Oh!” Spunkleford exclaimed. “So this is the lady who you…well, y’know…uh…”
“Oh, I’ll say he did,” cackled the aged Mrs. Wilkens/Cum-Loudly.
“Veni, vidi, vici…” I whispered in quite recollection. “I came, I saw…”
“…And he bloody well conquered!” Mrs. Cum-Loudly finished, shrieking with delight. I sighed quietly. This whole episode was proving quite traumatic for me; pumping Mrs. Agnes Cum-Loudly whilst she was a firm-buttocked, heavily-knockered TWWIWLTF (Teacher With Whom I Would Like To Fornicate) had been a source of great pride to my younger self. Now, watching the saggy, wrinkled, old prune before me recount our sordid tryst was making me feel rather nauseous, and furthermore it was causing my poor Lord Palmerston to recede into himself – an inverse erection, if you like.
“Oh, Likely here was very good at getting to grips with the Latin tongue,” Mrs. Cum-Loudly continued, clearly relishing the visible discomfort I was currently expressing. “He was also very good at getting to grips with the Latin tits, and all! And the Latin cun-”
“Oh, do be quiet, you fetid old whore!” I barked, unable to stand the continued horror dealt upon me.
“Oh-hoh! It’s no use getting all coy now, Likely! My oh my, you were anything but coy back in school! I could barely keep him off me at times. Randy little thing, he was.”
“Still is,” Spunkleford chimed in, taking a similar glee in the awkwardness bestowed upon me.
“I had heard,” Mrs. Cum-Loudly beamed. “What say we have another go, for old time’s sake, eh?”
“I would rather thrust my penis into a crocodile’s gaping jaws, then loudly besmirch the good name of his mother,” I snapped.
“Oh, come on, boy!” Mrs. Cum-Loudly grinned. “I’ve been reading all about you and your erotic escapades! Why, I’ll bet you’ve learnt some things on your travels, eh? What say the pupil teaches the teacher, hmm? Doesn’t that sound like fun?” she added, licking her craggy lips with her wretched old tongue.
“Listen, you dried-up old tart, I will never – ” I began, but was interrupted by an ear-piercing scream, followed by a far more attractive young lady running to our side.
“You have got to help!” the pretty young thing gasped, her pleasantly fulsome bosom heaving due to her recent exertions. “In the dining room…there…there is a dead man! There has been another murder!”
“Well thank fuck for that!” I cried, earning myself some rather curious looks from the assembled group. “Um…that is to say, this is of course terrible news, and must be investigated at once!”
With that, we all dashed off, but as we left Mrs. Cum-Loudly behind, I could not help but hear her call out after me:
“Ego mos habitum vestri penis iterum!”
Disgusting old cow.
- Lord Likely.
Next Time in The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely: Another Stiff in Bumthrusty’s!
These past couple of days have been nothing but astonishing for his lordship. Firstly, as mentioned previously, The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely were selected as one of the ‘Best of the Web‘ on The Guardian newspaper’s website. I believe this distinction lasts until Monday, so if the link has expired, feel free to go to Mr. A D Fanton’s web-log to see the honour in all its glory (and be sure to offer some sympathy to Master Fanton, who lost his job on Friday, the useless no-good).
Secondly, these self-same journals have been given a wonderful review by Mr. Chris Poirier, over on The Web Fiction Guide. I am sure you will agree, he has been utterly fair, even if he did misplace the fifth star somewhere.
Thirdly, Chelle B, the eminently humpable hostess of humorbloggers.com, has seen fit to honour his lordship by highlighting his journals in the humor spotlight for this entire week. Go forth and bask in the glory, and join up whilst you are there. It is an awfully excellent place, you know. And funny, too!
Finally, but by no means leastly, his lordship has been either honoured or praised by other wondrous web-loggers, including the ever-agreeable Max from British Speak, Mr. Chris Wood, and The Heliograph. Hooray for you all!
Good heavens. At this rate, his lordship’s head will swell to such a size, that no hat will fit him.
Many thanks to each and every one of the above, and to my regular ravishing readers for sticking with TAAoLL. Now let us hope that all of this is just the beginning of a whole new Golden Age of Likely! HUZZAH!
humor-blogs.com, meanwhile, still refuses to work properly.