A Harrowing Tale of The Danger of the Hunt
The most terrible, horrible thing that ever happened in my life happened today: there was a fly in my bed-chamber!
When I spotted it, I climbed up atop my bed and lifted my sleeping gown up away from my feet and shrieked for nanny to come and squash it until I was completely hoarse. I feel that I must've been screaming for close to an hour before my senses returned to me and I remembered that nanny had taken today off to go visit her sister who is dying from consumption. Oh, that selfish nanny of mine! How dare she leave me, today of all days when a fly should happen into my bed-chamber! I shall have father dock her a week's salary for this mistreatment!
See if I don't!
I believe that when realization hit me that no one would be coming to my aid, I passed out briefly, for I found myself suddenly in the horizontal position on my bed. Eeee, how I hope the intruding insect did not alight upon me as I laid helpless! I do not believe he did, though, as I did not feel infected by his diseases.
Following my involuntary constitution, I began to feel much more brave about this whole unpleasant affair. Something needed to be done, and there was no one but Winthrop Merriweather Pinfeather Smythe to do it (my goodness, I nearly sounded like a cow-puncher from the American Colonies for a moment). The beastly little fly was no longer in sight, but I could not trust that he would not return. So I dressed myself (the indignity!) in my fine little hunting outfit, it's just like the one that father wears when he goes leaves us for months at a time on hunting expeditions in the dark continent, and left my chambers in search of a suitable weapon (for I would certainly not risk any of my own play-things on this dangerous work).
I must say, I did a splendid job on the dressing and looked very smartly attired.
In the smaller study, I happened upon my father's collection of Faberge Eggs and realized they would suit my needs perfectly. I selected a lovely lavender one with gilded trim that nestled very comfortably in my palm and set off in search of my prey.
How thrilling this all was! I was just like father out in the jungle killing mighty elephants to remove their precious ivory tusks, leaving the rest of the corpse to rot unused! How grand! Several times I was overcome with the excitement of it all and had to sit for a spell to allow my heart to return to a more normal rate of beating.
I was in the music room when I finally encountered my prey again. He had landed upon mother's precious antique harpsichord. I steeled myself against the danger and raced across the room toward the monster, my weapon held above my head until I crashed it down upon the keys. The old spindly legs snapped form the force of my blow and the harpsichord clanged musically onto the hardwood floor.
But what of the fly? He had escaped! Oh, he was as wiley as an Irishman, but I would have the better of him yet! He landed on the Rembrandt on the east wall, thinking himself quite safe since my weapon had been destroyed by my first attack. However, the element of surprise was mine, dear reader, for I had secreted away another Faberge Egg (of a lovely robin's egg blue with diamond inlay) in my pocket. I hurled it at the creature!
Success! With a mighty crash of egg and diamond and canvas, my volley struck true! I lifted up the torn painting and there, amongst the shards, lay the corpse of the intruder who had dared defile my bedchamber.
Just then, my sweet mother, roused from her depressed stupor by the clamor of my battle, entered the room to investigate. She found me there, amongst the wreckage, smiling in triumph.
"I've done it, mother!" I announced proudly. "I have slain a fly!"
I thought that she would be quite proud of me, for I am a dear little angel.
Guess what, my friends? I was exactly right.