Tonight's menu consists of crisp brown Shanghai duck in an almond demiglaze served with an apple tart confection. Humble servant Miss Harriet will put on a marionette show using a frustrating web of fine ram tendons as string while simultaneously belying her discomforting affinity for translucent chalk. Afterwards, little Timmy will play his violin and cry blood. All guests will be accompanied to the Retributive Grid as such in that they have violated conditions of the Treatise of Nymn.
Brunch will be served on the chrysanthemum veranda; simply follow the trail of leeks. The humid June air will kiss the dew off scorned lovers’ lips while we sip Sicilian table wine. Lance will hopscotch in the courtyard donned with his tiara of fire, while the scantily clad priestesses confined to the watercress fountains commiserate accordingly. Vanessa will adjust The Harness to accommodate the most trying wails. Rats will be coaxed out of rueful stupor to perform excellent tricks for viewers equipped with the radon ocular appendage, logged precariously in selected skulls.
Afterwards we will take a pleasant stroll in the garden maze, floating three-to-four inches off the earth, hovering through winding, inviting hallways of ivy and holly. Let us be enraptured by romance and bewilderment at the enchanting scents of crisp lilac and impending summer. Crowns of thistles and dandelion gowns swelter ‘round our heads like lethargic halos, leading us to an opening of deep grass and cascading, pink light – where we dip our soft toes in cages of water. Let us then ferry past the island of burning scarecrows to a doorway, arched with a heart-shaped hedge, where Samantha waits with a rose in her hair, courageously maintaining her composure as she waves to you a bouquet of quivering flowers and fingers.
by the BFF King
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