Written by Jaggedone
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Thursday, 18 November 2010

image for Chapter 5 of the sequel: The Mad Hatters tea party "yes please, I'll have one or two," asked the Mad Hatter?

The heavy velvet drapes became encircled by the drifting, timeless, royal blue smoke of a smoking Swiss time-machine, perfect in motion, pristine in it's sanctuary.

The pursing lips of EQ paused, retracted, soothingly sucking and blowing as he lay on the studded Chesterfield in his camel haired silky dressing gown wondering, "why?"

His ivory pipe carved from the wisdom tooth of a raging bull-elephant and extracted without morphine enhanced the priceless, Edwardian wafer thin cup and saucer filled with subtle, finest Chinese green-tea laced with a slice of fresh Andalucian lemon.

He paused as the blue smoke circles formed the five rings of Olympia, he thought of Jesse Owens, the 300 Spartans and the quest of the Holy Oracle found in the midst of the white light in far off Timbukto or three!

"A story of true adventure and dastardly doings" he thought.

EQ alias Lazarus, had returned from the ordeal knowing the Oracle was in safe hands hidden between the grey cells and waxed ears of the master.

"Possessing such knowledge is greater than writing the Bible, Koran and Lady Chatterly's lover all in one," he thought. "I must share this with someone who is worthy and capable of comprehending what it means to be totally and utterly, stark, raving bonkers, but who?"

The silence was disturbed solely by the ticking of the hand made, Asian replica time-piece decorating the mantle piece (worth tuppence) amidst the settled dust forgotten by his long-gone char lady dressed like a pinguin and talking like the Tsar of Russia's personal whore, Volga Olga.

"VC, dash it, that dastardly WWI hero, brain damaged in the Ypres trenches whilst colliding with exploding shreds of shrapnel in the early morning hours, damn Prussians!" he thought.

"I'll give him a quick 'toodly wink' on the hotline, I'm sure he'll understand that Mad Dog."

"VC ol bean, I'm giving a tea-party here on the pristine lawn at dawn (damn moles), scrumptious cottage cheese and cucumber sandy's, finest Chink green tea and a fine old Napolean cognac or 2 to swish it all down, up for it, OK, see you here."

The scene was set, the 2 old codgers surrounded by EQ's scantily dressed maids serving in fiendishly low cut mini-skirted uniforms, black fish net tights and Xtra tiny panties, "let the Mad-Hatters tea-party begin," yowled EQ and toasted, chinking his fine cut crystal glass together with VC's, they commenced.

"EQ, we are the remaining survivors of the deadly quest, why?" asked VC wearing his tin helmet, Scottish tweed hunting plus-fours and a medal given to him by the one and only Sir Black Adder.

"VC, our loyal, fine and trustworthy colleagues were lost 'From Here to Eternity' remember?"

"Only the maddest survived, hence, the Oracle is ours the Gerbils are theirs and may they be gnawed to the marrow by the little devils!"

"Here, here ol bean, let's hit the real stuff, damn Chink tea only gives you cancer, Vive El Napolean," proclaimed VC!

The tea-party wore on until dusk causing the churlish clouds to darken: Four empty bottles, four scantily dressed maids spreading their wears across the table inviting the Mad Hatter and his WWI shrapnel-wounded accomplice to engardé, they were only to pleased to oblige!

"Eureka" yowled EQ like a bitten wild wolf bending over the stripped carcass lying before him!

"How pertinent" muttered VC, as they both devoured the left-overs on offer.

"Huge sweet cucumbers and runny cottage cheese ma Lords," whispered the maids from below?

A stunning success as the two remaining survivors from the epic tales of debauchery, enslavement, masochistic out-manouvering and down-right dastardly doings contemplated their next moves whilst girating heavily.

"We are in possession of the greatest weapon any man has ever had, total and utter madness, VC where do we go from here?" EQ asked his comrade as he snoozed wearily in the hazy evening sunset, exhausted,

"where?"

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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