<<I am not!
I am not yeasty.
I am not a vixen.
I am not immune to Steven's underhanded methods.
But I think Sherry has dibs.>>
Dibs? Dibs? What care we for dibs, you milk-livered scut. (Excuse the prior appellation, 'vixen,' I was confusing you for a moment with Lady Edwarda; you are, of course, a scut.) I seem to recall Sir Steven calling out rather plaintively for Lady Foxness, but unless I missed a few posts, I don't recall her staking a claim. In any case, he behaves faithlessly, as we have seen, so claim or no claim, I suggest you join the chase. Or chaise, if you prefer the voyeuristic pleasures. I believe there already is une voyeuse skulking about the premises.
Oh! La! Lady Blue, lest I be misunderstood, do let me make perfectly clear that my heart is given entirely to the Arteeste, and I have no eyes for him whom you have dubbed CICOSICM, or for any other; and, I should add, I am entirely immune to CICOSICM's motley-minded 'methods.' Beech tree indeed. Can not the man afford a good hotel?
[sotto voce: ...unless of course the Arteeste chooses to spend an inordinate amount of time "trying a case," as he calls his pribbling excuses; in such an eventuality... I must survey the field with new eyes!]
Oh, Chuzz, Chuzz! Art thou in the visinity? |
