By: Morgan Hannah, Contributor
Original passage: That night she went to a party at a friend’s place. There were lots of people. They played her favourite music. The snacks were good. The guy she liked was there, too. It got so loud that somebody called the police. She was home by midnight.
She fluffed and puffed and poofed and primped her hair for the night that she knew would be arresting. Her many gowns were suspended on her lithe frame, giving her a more garish and ample figure. She hoped she would be able to chicane the other guests. She had been invited to her friend’s place, a palace of a place at the end of the block. Everyone knew the place – colossal coloured skylights encompassed walls made of red brick, bristly bushes bounced in the breeze all along the driveway, and a saccharine smell surrounded the property. One had to be of noble stature or royal blood to find themselves invited.
Dight and decorated in her finest bijoux, this fancy lady found herself finally finished and fixed. She flounced down the stairs to find her father fanning himself as he loitered for his dear daughter.
“Don’t let any of those dandiprats do anything malicious to my sweet, hmm?” He winked.
“Don’t worry, daddy. It won’t be any trouble at all. I suspect I will only have a scruple of fun…” The little rapscallion of a lady linked arms with her old man. He was a camelopard in comparison to his compact child.
The two strolled down the block, savouring the sugary scent of the serene Summer night, and as they neared the hulking house, the little lady’s father bent down and planted a puckered lip on her forehead.
“Love you lots, my little lady.”
Asunder from her father, she followed the sound of a quartet crooning a chorus from the lounge. Two men in filibegs sat in an impaired state, giggling at the sight of the little lady. She pointed her slim index finger at them and chortled right back, then she picked up her skirts and skittered onward, in search of her beau. She knew he’d be here and she longed for his laud and tender affection. Daddy didn’t know she had a man, but the little lady found it only fair. Her father was the cicisbeo of a matron other than her mother. Her father was a coxcomb of a man. Though she loved him, she couldn’t help it. She loved men more than any broad, even the one that birthed her.
The music was a forceful fortissimo hubbub, the fare was finer than she had ever experienced, even under her own roof; crab soaked in a buttery, savoury sauce, steamed herbs, soft samosas, beefy tuna salads, cakes of all proportions and tints; the room was exploding with sweets and dishes to delight every palate.
Her boy bobbed behind her, brandishing a tot of cognac. With a clink and a kiss, she tossed the liquid down, it was smooth and slinky as it slid down her throat. It was hot.
The night took a tantalizing turn, when a troubled character called out, “the police! The police are on their way! Avaunt!”
The little lady found herself cozy and comfortable in her cot by midnight. Her daddy didn’t seem to object to picking up his darling daughter earlier than anticipated. A smile on her lips as her thoughts floated back to the party. She parted ways with her beau, promising they’d indite each other. What a romantic night of mischief and pleasure it had been.
