Bedtime Stories for Grown Up Children #55555

 

Pamela Darling

Dear Pamela darling,

Oh joy!  I am getting married!  You’ll never believe how it happened!

I first set eyes on handsome Smolden Farlington, world renowned British row-boat archeologist, whilst he was boating down the Thames in his luxury yacht, Diana Who? a hand-me-down from Prince Charles himself!

I just happened to be sailing by in the opposite direction — seated coquettishly in my restored, side-seat, sculling rowboat (once belonging to King Richard III) — with Hargrove and Mabel – a couple whom I had recently hired to be my traveling companions and a couple whom, I might also add, were proving themselves to be excellent rowers!

But perhaps I should back up momentarily lest I confuse you, Pamela darling.

As you know, my name is Elizabeth Plinkton.   But I never told you that I am the Elizabeth Plinkton – of the famous hair-comb-empire Plinktons!  My great-grandfather, Sir Randolph Plinkton, having invented the comb with the tapering teeth from large to small — yes, Pamela, darling, just like the one you currently have in your bathroom drawer right now!

In fact, I’m so rich I’m nearly a freak, Pamela! But alas, being exceedingly rich makes one want to die from shear boredom.  You’re lucky you’re poor, Pamela, darling, for restoring historic rowboats as one’s only purpose in life turns out to be rather dull I’m afraid.

Which is why I had just slipped gently and quietly into the water – unbeknownst to Hargrove and Mabel — to end my life when, at that precise moment, Smolden Farlington and I passed each other like two ships in the night and our eyes met – his peeking out from beneath the bill of his borrowed captain’s hat and, mine – peering through the murky waters of the Thames.

Oh Pamela, darling!  It was love at first sight!

I shall be married Sunday next, Pamela, darling!  I would dearly love your presence- but, alas, you’re much too poor to invite– a fact that nearly breaks my heart but not quite.

Yours ever,

Elizabeth

horribel art by Linda Vernon Humor
Elizabeth Plinkton

Until next time . . . I love you

 

Linda’s Bedtime Stories for Grownup Children #138

 

Ted Flerk’s Autobiography

“As you know, children, we always observe National Rubber Spatula Day here at Connie’s Kindergarten Cuisine Academy and–” Miss Connie’s announcement was interrupted by a collective moan from the classroom.

And,” Miss Connie continued unfazed, “I therefore will be reading to you from Scraping By — the autobiography of Ted Flerk who you will remember is credited with inventing the rubber spatula.

Miss Connie calmly opened to page one and began reading in a clear, strong voice as several students rushed for the door that Miss Connie had had the presence of mind to bolt.

“The story of how it came to pass that fateful day in Mother’s kitchenette, when I, Ted Flerk, invented mankind’s most important baking utensil, the rubber spatula, is, I suppose, a tedious tale, or, more precisely, a thorough recounting, if you will, of—“

Suddenly a loud boom erupted from the back of the classroom. Miss Connie looked over the top of her reading glasses. Charles was out of his seat.

“If you’re thinking you’re going to bust down that door, Charles, you’ve got another thing coming.” Miss Connie said mildly. ” Now, put down that battering ram and return to your seat immediately!”  Miss Connie continued reading.

” . . . the events leading up to the day I thought of inventing the Rubber Spatula, including what happened while I was physically inventing the rubber spatula, itself,  in addition to a detailed accounting of my life up to that point– “

Suddenly there was a mighty crash and a tinkling of glass. Miss Connie calmly put her finger on her place in the book and looked up. Several girls were helping each other climb through the jagged glass of the broken classroom window. A line of students was quickly forming behind them. Miss Connie chose to ignore the interruption and continued reading.

” . . . and exactly how I, Ted Flerk, was able to scrape every type of bowl known to man leaving no detail undocumented. . . “

At 3:00 sharp, Miss Connie bookmarked her place in the book, turned out the lights of her now empty classroom and went home.

 

Inventor of the rubber spatula
Ted Flerk, inventor of the rubber spatula and the Author of Scraping By

 

Bedtime Stories for Grown-up Children #874

Oh That Drax!

“Drax! Drax! Draxmidian! Stop fooling and come this instant.” Draxmidian’s mother called.

“Now calm down, dear.” Her husband said. “Drax is just playing a joke on us. He’ll be along shortly. Sit down and enjoy the afternoon breeze, my dear.”

“But the what about the natives, Arthur? You know they come out in the afternoons. You know that. What if he’s not playing a joke on us this time Arthur! What if . . . oh why did I ever agree to come to this horrible place!”

“Now now, Marna. Drink you tea. Drax is a smart boy. He knows never to go into the forest. You need to relax.”

“But he’s a boy Arthur. And sometimes boys do stupid things!”

“Marna you’re tea is getting cold. Now drink. He’ll be along, you’ll see.”

Marna scanned the horizon and sipped her tea. Then she thought she saw movement in the brush beyond the expanse of deep green lawn. Yes! It must be Drax! But her heart stopped when she saw it wasn’t her little boy.

“Oh my god, Arthur!”

“Let me handle this, dear.” Arthur stood and felt the weight of his gun in his jacket. “Greetings sir. What brings you?”

The creature was tall with pale blue skin and the bright yellow eyes of a cat. His hair hung long and loose to his waist. He held up an article of clothing. It was Drax’s jacket.

Marna screamed. Arthur fired his gun.

The creature fell to the ground and they watched it’s blood pour out, nearly the same shade as the lawn.

““Daddy! Mommy! What happened?” Drax asked as he climbed out from his hiding place underneath the porch.

Linda’s Bedtime Stories for Grownup Children #138

 

Ted Flerk’s Autobiography

“As you know, children, we always observe National Rubber Spatula Day here at Connie’s Kindergarten Cuisine Academy and–” Miss Connie’s announcement was interrupted by a collective moan from the classroom.

And,” Miss Connie continued unfazed, “I therefore will be reading to you from Scraping By — the autobiography of Ted Flerk who you will remember is credited with inventing the rubber spatula.

Miss Connie calmly opened to page one and began reading in a clear, strong voice as several students rushed for the door that Miss Connie had had the presence of mind to bolt.

“The story of how it came to pass that fateful day in Mother’s kitchenette, when I, Ted Flerk, invented mankind’s most important baking utensil, the rubber spatula, is, I suppose, a tedious tale, or, more precisely, a thorough recounting, if you will, of—“

Suddenly a loud boom erupted from the back of the classroom. Miss Connie looked over the top of her reading glasses. Charles was out of his seat.

“If you’re thinking you’re going to bust down that door, Charles, you’ve got another thing coming.” Miss Connie said mildly. ” Now, put down that battering ram and return to your seat immediately!”  Miss Connie continued reading.

” . . . the events leading up to the day I thought of inventing the Rubber Spatula, including what happened while I was physically inventing the rubber spatula, itself,  in addition to a detailed accounting of my life up to that point– “

Suddenly there was a mighty crash and a tinkling of glass. Miss Connie calmly put her finger on her place in the book and looked up. Several girls were helping each other climb through the jagged glass of the broken classroom window. A line of students was quickly forming behind them. Miss Connie chose to ignore the interruption and continued reading.

” . . . and exactly how I, Ted Flerk, was able to scrape every type of bowl known to man leaving no detail undocumented. . . “

At 3:00 sharp, Miss Connie bookmarked her place in the book, turned out the lights of her now empty classroom and went home.

 

Inventor of the rubber spatula
Ted Flerk, inventor of the rubber spatula and the Author of Scraping By