‘Prithee, sir, dost thou feel okay?’ the servant-boy enquired gently.
‘Contrariwise,’ replied Lord Featherston. ‘I am beset by a fever most perplexing, the sensation of which is like to being zapped by lasers.’
‘Lasers?’ enquired the page.
‘Aye,’ said the gentleman. ‘Lasers as might be found on a Martian spaceship, should such a thing be present.’ He let out a pained sigh. ‘But what is to be done? The only physician in these parts of any repute is all of a day’s ride away, and the NHS drop-in centre near the supermarket is shut also.’
‘Alas, it is so,’ confirmed the servant, preparing the digital thermometer. ‘Mayhap a bleeding would calm this fever.’
’That may be the case,’ sighed Lord Featherston. ‘Would that we had a bleeding cup, fresh leeches or broadband access to WebMD.’
Hee hee hee! (Again!)
ReplyDeleteDoes that qualify as Steampunk? No?
ReplyDeleteIn that case: Bwahahahahahahahaha! :D
Oh this is SO yesterday!
ReplyDelete:-)
In Sir Walter Scott that was known as "tushery" because the characters always said "Tush."
ReplyDeletePrithee, sir
ReplyDeleteBoy, does that reek of subtext. The clash between addressing someone as sir, appropriate to a servant, and using the familiar second person forms prithee and dost thou means they practically have to be lovers.
Or, in the parlance of the day, they have been "getting their freak on."
ReplyDeleteThankee much!
ReplyDeleteI giggleth.
ReplyDeleteYour best work yet.
ReplyDeleteMine billed cap sitteth sideways in mine hilarity. Egad. I don't know.
ReplyDelete