Act One Scene Two
Interlude
The
luncheon
The
hall was different in the décor that afternoon. Once the coffin was removed,
the servants trooped in with the flowers on the stands and having placed them
by the sides, while others brought in the tables and chairs to be set up for
the coming luncheon affair.
“Do
you know why they have chairs with the cloth over them?” The new staff asked
“If
you are going to drip in between your legs, at least it can soil the cloth and
not the chairs.” The older staff replied. “They are horny old men here, and
they get busy during the cabaret dances.”
“Please
open the windows. The dead scent needs clearing here.” The windows were opened
the scented bottles were brought in to give the hall a pleasant atmosphere. The
tables were set with silverware and the bottles of the finest wine were set on
them.
The
playing musical band soon filtered in and took their place at the right corner
where a small stage was set up. The five-piece musical band then strummed their
sets and the tune was set for the musical sounds of jazz whined out.
“Please
stop. It’s a luncheon. Not an evening dance.” The servant overseeing the music
scores called out. “Try the Charleston pieces. The place needs some life to
it.”
“Charles,
blow life into that trumpet as if it was when Chris was around. It sounded like
hearse music.” That was different in the kitchen filled with the extra help and
the argument then was over the menu.
“No
stuffing please.” The Master Chef called out to the assembled. “The Emperor wants
the Norwegian finest only. Lambs and bread and vegetables.”
“Pheasants?”
“No,
please. The King is dead, and so there go the pheasants from the menu. Dead
ok?”
“Whoever
eats lamb?”
“Please
listen. It's lamb and only lamb. No poultry or river fish. No …”
“Caviar?”
“Yes…That
one is okay. Let me taste it before you serve it. The Emperor held a preference
on the serving.”
“No
live oyster? No ratatouilles?” The French Sous Chef asked after perusing the
menu. “I am offended. The King liked my sauce.”
“No,
please. Nothing living, please. They preferred them dead.” Another chef cut in.
“And nothing rare. The Lady does not like bloody slices.”
“Yes,
all dead please.” The chefs all took off to their tasks.
“I
thought they will never stop talking.” The lady servant held the cleaver high
over her shoulder before she brought it down to cut the cabbage into two parts.
“Henri
did not do a lick on yours’ last session.” The other servant smiled when she
saw the cleaver go into the series of chops.
“The
Froggie left me there with the spread of my cramped legs after a few rounds. If
I had known, I would have stuck myself over on the King’s stiff. It would have
lasted longer.”
“I
am sure you would.” The servant laughed. “So are we having a wedding or a
wake?’
“I
wouldn’t know. My wedding was not a wake to anything new. It was all over a in
flash and my midriff bloated for months. And after six urns’, never needed to
feel any after that.”
“Did
you see the large cucumber I brought over?” Another servant cut in.
“Sitting
on it.” The servant with the clever replied. “It’s the next best stiff I can
find.”
“Get
alive, ladies. We got a luncheon on.” The Master Chef interrupted the ladies.
“Don’t die on me.”
“If
only you did not have them in the last session.” The lady servant
muttered.”Darn! My legs are cramped and dead now. Being seated too long.
Someone pulled the cucumber there. I can’t reach it.”
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