A pair of remarkable green eyes looked up from inspecting a rather large teacup. The design on the china was exquisite, and the size of the piece obscene-- though no more inconceivable then the tonnage of the exceptionally large top-hat on top of the inspectors head. Vision flickered back to the delicate piece of ceramics, and with a shrug of his shoulders, tossed it over his back only to have it smash into a million pieces somewhere behind. Long, delicate fingers adjusted his purple tie, and calmly and composedly dusted any debris off of his green velvet blazer. Quieted, the man then turned to the boy who'd moments ago been laying in the dirt.
"Why no, my dear boy, you just fell out of a tree. But you're the second person I've met to mistake a tree for a mirror. Still, it's no mistake for being late, and you are very, very late. And that's RUDE, you know."
The man, clearly delusional, though seeming none-the-ware to his mental state, paused to purse his lips before explaining.
"The tea is nearly cold, I've had to put on another pot, and the March Hare and the Doormouse have excused themselves on accounts of your lack of presence."
Before the babbling man was a fully over-set table. It's material was a rich red-wood, probably a stained oak, though the majority of it was covered in a bright yellow table cloth. There were high backed chairs enough for twenty-some, but none were occupied. All over the table top were stacks and stacks of tea cups, some elaborate, some plain, some with no handles, some with several, some used-- though many untouched. To go with said china was an arrayment of tea pots and kettles with just as a varied hue as the cups, and some with an uncountable number of spots that seemed impossible to pour from. Jams, sugars, creams, mustards, and nearly every condiment conceivable seemed to be haphazardly placed arournd the mess.
"Well, don't just stand there, it's RUDE to keep your host waiting, don't you know?"
The man, who had yet to introduce himself, motioned from the boy to the table. He then reached across the table to a teapot, and poured himself a cup. Sliding several ounce of sugar into the cup, he took a sip.
The white haired man shook his head, "COLD, Cold, it's all cold." He announced, and proceeded to throw that cup, too, over his shoulder.
 screamvanity · Thu Apr 03, 2008 @ 08:51pm · 0 Comments |
