The Grand Arch-Prince of Reee (Ch. 2)

CHAPTER II

Chartovska was sweet young woman of about minus twenty-three years of age. She was married to a young gentleman by the name of George Strain. Strain was a terrible bacon-fiend and was constantly in debt due to his addiction to gherkins; he would come home at the unsightly hour of eight o’clock in the evening possessed by a horrifically gherkinned state and threaten to remove his clothes. Chartovska was quite terrified of him.

On Tuesdays, after working for the day at the Bunbury factory to pay George’s debts, Chartovska Strain would go to Beef Wellington Way to listen to a silent poetry reading by the great poet Jomnin de Hedgeweedly. However, rumours had been circulating throughout Brobdingnagian high society that de Hedgeweedly was dead from the Cornwalls, and that a mysterious gentleman had moved into his house and was causing dismay amongst the neighbours for his terrible piano playing. Chartovska decided that she must find out for herself whether this information was trustworthy; and so, on Tuesday that week she took the night omnibus from Cake Hovel Square to Richard-Richard Road and walked to Beef Wellington Way in the company of her miniscule dog – Sir Deathface. Chartovska and Sir Deathface alighted the steps and knocked upon the door of number 12.3 Beef Wellington Way. A strange man answered; claiming to be the personal servant of a certain Mr. Pertov Maschischly – the new occupant of the house.

“So what has become of the dear poet de Hedgeweedly, sir?” inquired Chartovska Strain.

“Oh, he died last week from a bad case of the Cornwalls,” replied the servant, “and if you have nothing to inquire of Mr. Maschischly then I suggest you go on your way.”

But she did not go on her way. Instead she beat the servant repeatedly over the elbow with her eyebrow scarves and rushed into the hallway, followed closely by the loyal Sir Deathface. But the hall only ended in a dead end with no other doors or means of egress - it was most peculiar. Chartovska did not know what to do, so instead left the house, walked down the road, and caught the omnibus back home to Cake Hovel Square.

Pertov Maschischly had watched all the proceedings from his withdrawing-room window. Tomorrow, thought he, I shall go to Pancreatic Street and purchase a new servant, and possibly some expensive cheese.