Last time I partook of a bad fare, I was at a party. ~ V. Shnodgrate
So, Dr. Zauberer’s party was the biggest party this professor had ever laid his eyes on.
Even in the cabinets, I supposed.
Now, I should mention something here: I was wearing some professorish sunglasses. Why? I’m not sure. It was a cloudy, rainy evening.
But everyone should always wear sunglasses. That way, people won’t know if you’re sleeping or not.
Anyways and a few, Dr. Zauberer—who had brought us into the party—was disappeared, and standing in front of Lucy and I was none other than Fats Henry—most notorious for his bad behavior and sweetly horrid disposition.
He had a cup of punch in his hand. And it was foaming white. The punch itself was yellow. Picture this. Bet you can’t!
“P.VJ,” Fats Henry boomed.
He’s never silent.
“Who’s she?” he said, indicating Lucy.
A brazen fellow overall, you see.
“Now, Mr. Henry—” I began.
But Lucy cut me off.
“Call me Lucy,” she said. “And what should I call you? I could think of something, if pushed.”
Henry started to laugh.
And the ground began to shake.
“Hey, dude,” and Manly-Man came forward.
Now, Manly-Man isn’t near as big as Fats Henry. (No one is as big as Fats Henry. Just no one.)
“Shut-up,” Henry snapped. “Can’t you see you’re interrupting?”
“He’s right,” said Lucy. “I mean, I cannot say that I object to it, but you are certainly interrupting.”
“No, I isn’t,” Manly-Man said, wrapping his arm around Henry, who began to try to pull it off.
“Get your hand off of me!”
A struggle of sorts ensued.
And that’s when Dr. Zauberer reappeared.
He tapped Lucy on the shoulder. “Uhh…madam. I don’t like to be presumptuous, but aren’t you my security? Look at that!”
He was, of course, pointing to Fats Henry and Manly-Man, who now looked as if they were doing some sort of old-fashioned jig in the middle of the ballroom. A crowd had formed.
“Yes, um, well spotted. I’ll nip along and have a peek.”
And Lucy rushed off.
But this professor had a novel idea. Before, Lucy reached the mean-dancers (they’d strayed out into the floor a bit) this professor turned, grabbed the punch bowl, and threw it’s contents across the room.
It was a direct hit.
The dancing stopped.
“Why YOU!” Henry roared.
And Henry was this close to charging. This close just means very close.
But Mr. Ratherquite stepped in.
“Sir,” he began.
He was giving a speech. Acting.
“We are to socialize at parties, not make war! Amend your ways.”
Surprisingly, it worked.
The party got back underway.
“My dear professor, that was an unusual thing to do!” exclaimed Lucy, almost cross. “And look, the floor is all sticky over there, now.”
“I couldn’t help it,” I replied. “The punch looked dreadful. It was foaming white, you know!”
Dr. Zauberer shook his head. “I’m off to congratulate Mr. Ratherquite for being excellent security. You two!”
And he left.
I looked at Lucy, and I was feeling bad, I must admit. “Let’s question Dr. Zauberer, and then get out of here! This party is way too bigly big.”
“I concur,” replied Lucy. “And there are far too many security issues, in my opinion.”
Story written by Professor VJ Duke & Lucy Brazier