Tales of the Parodyverse

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J. Jonah Jerkson
Mon Jan 01, 2007 at 07:37:28 pm EST
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The Baroness, Part 48A
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It would be inaccurate to say that New Year’s morning broke over the turrets of Schloss Schreckhausen. Perhaps “oozed” is the correct word. Nothing bright or gay ever seemed to pass the grimy walls or romp in the desiccated garden. All this made the humming that wafted through the halls of the north wing seem a bit other-worldly.

“I’m through with the bath, now, darling.” Agnes Wooster turned to gaze out the tower window into a gray cloudy sky raining gently on the gray and brown panorama of the city in winter. “What a beautiful day to be alive!” Agnes gushed.

A gutteral moan came from under the piled bedclothes. “I’m un . . . dead, I must be dead,” Baron Otto groaned.

“You were magnificent, my Prussian Tower of Power,” Agnes crooned.

“I was potioned – almost fatally,” he rasped.

“I feel so light and free, I could almost fly!” Agnes pirouetted in the center of the dank, stone-walled bedroom, looking more like a wobbling oil drum than the Sugar Plum Fairy.

“Never . . . learned . . . that . . . spell.”

“No matter. A good breakfast and you’ll be good as new. But first, guess what I have?”

“A neurotic fixation?” whispered the Baron.

“ I just might have another dose.” Agnes scampered over to the bed.

“Gott in Himmel. Wait. Urgh. Wait!”

“I love your chest hair. So curly.”

“I promised you last night – I’d let you see your son Michael.”

“Michael? I want nothing to do with Michael – and that riff-raff he’s taken into his home. How dare you speak of Michael to me at a moment of treasured bliss! Otto, dear, misunderstood man, this day is for us, for our love, for our dreams. Now open wide.”

Baron Otto slapped his hand over his mouth, cracking the fingers open just so wide. “Mmph. Get your hands off of me. The interfaces only function erratically.”

“Like you, snookums. Unless you open wide and take your medicine.”

“If I do not activate the mystic viewer soon, soon, you may never see him again.”

“How soon, Ottokins?”

“Five hours – I mean five minutes! Now!” The Baron rolled out of bed, wrenching his arm away from the clinging Agnes, and hurriedly threw on a robe.

“I suppose.”

“Franz!”

“I have the crystalline viewer right here, your well born Highness. Shall I activate it now, or would you prefer after lunch. The reception should not deteriorate for –“

“Another five minutes. Did you hear, cretin, another five minutes.”

“Five minutes. Then I should begin the incantations soon. Would the lady prefer some clothing before contacting her son?” The imperturbable Franz proffered a frilly nightgown.

Playing the part of the still absent Baroness Elizabeth Zemo

J. JONAH JERKSON
Voice of the People


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