I think the accents add to the overall whimsy of the piece, they are almost aggressively phonetic in places. This works though, since the intention was to make it as extremely barmy as possible, and to juggle with history for the sake of many titters.
Short Story / A Kinetic Gravitational Descent Into Boutade
“Leon! Hurry up dear, you know how bad it lookz to everyone when we are late.”
“Josephine, how many timez muzt I tell you, I HATE it when you call me Leon!” Napoleon replied, as he re-adjusted his black silk scarf for the fourth time.
“Tsk.” His wife flounced off.
“Your scarf looks fine, you cannot even notice zee tear! Come now, we must be off.” Josephine huffed as she flung back a loose curl from her shoulder. Her flowing cream coloured ballroom gown glowed in the dim candlelight, as she clutched her small drawstring purse.
Napoleon sat perched on an old wooden stool, in front of a large ornate mirror, peering skeptically at his silk scarf.
“Well, I can see zee tear! Stupide bastard caught me when I was not lookine,’ heh, although he got zee worst of my sword tippe!” Napoleon cried out triumphantly. Josephine rolled her eyes impatiently and pulled back the heavy carpet on the wall.
A horrendous bang suddenly erupted from the other side of the room as the front door flew open and bounced off the stone wall. “Iiieeee!” Josephine shrieked, leaping back against the wall. “EN GUARDE!” Napoleon roared, drawing his sword at the intruder.
“Bleeding Christ, get the hell outa’ my way fat man!” The burly man hollered as he stumbled into the room, tripping over the doorframe. He staggered and fell onto one knee, cursing as he caught himself on the wall. His long cape and ragged, smelly clothes hung over his head, obscuring his face. He flung the door shut behind him and pulled himself back upright.
“OH! Leon look! Look at hiz leg!” Josephine gasped and pointed in blatant horror. Napoleon stared at the man’s leg, which ended abruptly at his knee. Strapped on with leather and twine was the sawed-off end of an old musket.
“Mon dieu! You must be mad!” Napoleon blurted out rudely, his sword still leveled on the intruder. “Name yourself, or I shall filet you here and now.”
The haggard man laughed from under a copious and filthy beard. “I am Long John Silver, Quartermaster of the great Hispaniola!” He announced proudly, throwing off his hood to reveal yet more bushy, wild hair. He spun around, “SMEE! Get yer’ arse in here!” He shouted, causing Josephine to squeak and inch further away. The door peeped open and a short fat sailor waddled in. “Ees, boss?” the sidekick spat unceremoniously on the wooden floor. “We are going, come.” The two headed towards Josephine.
“Arret, where do you zink you are going? And for zat matter what are you doing here!? Zis is 1820; you are not zuppozed to be in zis era!”
“Bah, we do as we wish, we just came from the third dimension, about 61 AD there, met Boudica, ya know ‘er? She can’t make to the gala though; silly woman took an arrow to the shoulder. Anyway enough babble, move dog!” Long John shoved Napoleon out of the way and strode towards the wall. “Oh and you might want to be movin’ out, some nasty Mayans caught our window and followed us onto this god forsaken island, they are surely nearing your little shit-house here.” Josephine swooned and leaned on the wall for support.
Smee held back the heavy rug for his Lord and waited as Long John Silver walked straight into the stones and disappeared. Bowing to Josephine, Smee spun and disappeared through the wall after Long John.
“El burro sabe mas que tu!”
“Oh,vete al infierno.” The hushed voices filtered in from outside.
“LEON! The Mayans! They are right outside!” Josephine hissed, her eyes wide and panicked.
“Alright, alright, I’m coming! And for God sakes woman, don’t call me Leon!” He scowled at her. His shining black boots clicked across the wooden floor and his brass buttons gleamed magnificently. “After you, milady.” He motioned sarcastically.
Josephine turned on her heel and stepped through the wall, disappearing from the room. “Vive le difference,” he sighed shaking his head. Taking a deep breath and sucking in his growing belly, Napoleon Bonaparte strode forward into the solid stone wall.
II
Warm bright light washed over him as he stepped into the bustling room. Soaring vaulted ceilings arced overhead, covered in glittering chandeliers. Ornate crown molding lined the walls, framing massive portraits of famous war generals and kings. Gentle organ music flowed from a large stage at the far end of the room. Gentlemen and ladies dressed in their finest, pranced about the room, swilling from glasses of rich brandy and dancing gaily.
“Ah! Napoleon, my dear-a friend! I did so a thinka you lost perhaps?” Caesar trotted over, coming to a wobbly halt in front of Napoleon. He swayed a bit and pushed his laurels straighter on his head.
“Re vera, potas bene,” Napoleon answered to the delight of the drunken Roman leader. “Bah, magister mundi sum! Small drink not-a bother me-a!” He gazed around the room, distractedly.
“Ahah, I have-a spied-a great-a beauty!” Caesar screwed up his eyes trying to focus on his watery vision of the stunning Helen of Troy. She was being escorted by a very smug looking Colonel Colin Custer. “Hands off of her-a!” he bellowed flailing his arms to keep his balance. Napoleon rolled his eyes at the eccentric Roman. “Valere Leon-a,” Caesar jested as he patted Napoleon on the top of the head. “Fous le camps! Harummph!” Napoleon swatted Caesar angrily as the tipsy Emperor made his way to intercept Helen.
Napoleon pushed through the crowd to the far end of the room, where a long table piled high with lavish food and wine was waiting. “Now there is something worth coming for,” he mumbled, shuffling over to the stack of gold china. He saw that Smee had already helped himself to the variety of fruits.
He slowly made his way down the lengthy display, picking daintily at grapes, cheese, and delicious slices of roast ham. He turned, enjoying a mouthful of red wine and spied his wife, lying heavily on the arm of a certain Mr. Wallace, who he had heard so much about. “ZUT! How dare he toy wiz my wife een such a way! JOSEPHI-,”
“En-guarde, Frenchman!”
Pppphhtpleh! Napoleon spat red wine all over the front of himself and stumbled backwards, fumbling for his sword. He spun around and was met with the shining tip of a long slender rapier, touching the tip of his pug nose. His gaze followed the length of the blade, up to its wielder. “Oooh! Who dares assault zee great Napoleon!?” He spluttered angrily, batting away the sword.
“Hahaha I am surprised you do not know me, Sir,” The tall robed gentleman bowed, dipping his feather hat. “I…” he paused for dramatic effect. “Am Robin Hood, keeper of Sherwood Forest.”
“Uhuh…you look more like zat Errol Flynn to me,” Napoleon muttered.
“Don’t insult me, Sir!” Robin Hood looked shocked, “Dear Errol he tries, but he really has NO idea what it’s like to be me.”
“Uhuh, so what are we celebrating zis time? I zee no need to call uz all away from our livez to gazer in such drunken nonsense.” Napoleon asked, annoyed.
“You do not know?” Robin asked in mock horror. “There is a great time wave about to occur! You see, in fifty-nine minutes it becomes the year 2000 in the twelfth dimension! I cannot believe you didn’t know! All those crazy twelfth-dimension humans are ‘partying it up’ as they call it, right now!”
“Bah! Who carez? Siz will be no different then when we went back last year for the second dimension’s ‘extinction of the dinosaurs’ party. I zink it’z ztupide for us to be dragged here every time zomezing big happens in hiztory.”
“So you haven’t heard the rumours then, Sir?”
“Rumourz, what rumourz?” Napoleon asked curiously.
“This is a new millennia for them! They are saying that the world might collapse! They have these strange glowing boxes…that they use to communicate. They say all these boxes are going to explode or shutdown, and that their whole world will fall!”
“Sacre Blue! Zey actually believe zat zilly nonsense? Such ignorance.” Napoleon shook his head disgustedly.
“Ah but you don’t understand Sir, the twelfth dimension humans are much more advanced than us. They are so far ahead that they have created their world to stand on mechanics alone. They have isolated their dimension so far from the rest of us, that when dimensions are set to collide, like tonight, their world will fall. It no longer is in line with the space time…thus the collision of the oncoming thirteenth dimension, with them, will cause great ruin!”
Napoleon raised a bushy eyebrow high on his forehead, in utter disbelief. “You are even crazier zen zay are!”
Robin Hood looked over Napoleon’s shoulder. “Oh bother, Jean De Arc is dueling with the Trojan horse again, please excuse me, kind Sir, I must intervene.” With that Robin Hood loped off, his muscular legs flexing under his green tights.
Napoleon made his way to the centre of the room, where on a grand table sat a large encrusted bowl. People were gathered around it, staring into the viscous liquid. He muscled his way into the circle, elbowing Shakespeare out of the way; who in turn huffed and flounced off.
Napoleon gazed into the bowl and through all the subsequent dimensions into the window that was open into the twelfth. He spied strange future humans milling about in oddly coloured shelters, drinking and laughing. Someone poked their head in from the eighth dimension, looked up into the faces of the crowd staring back and waved. They too were peeking in to see what was going to happen to the doomed ‘Twelfth-dimensonians.’
The massive grandfather clock, with the engraved sign reading “Twelfth Dimension” on it; gonged eleven-thirty. “Oh Zank goodnezz, I can go back home zoon.” Napoleon grumbled.
He surveyed the room and all its characters. A loud fight had broken out across the room and he jumped up and down in attempts to see over the heads standing in front of him. He grabbed a chair and climbed onto it, straining to see the brawlers.
Attila swung wildly, grunting through his thick beard. Da Vinci ducked and laughed, dancing circles around the angered Hun. “Graawwrr!” Attila bellowed diving and catching Da Vinci across the middle. The pair tumbled to the floor where they commenced pummeling each other into a pulp.
“Oh now will you both just stop!” Cried a frustrated Einstein from his corner table. “I am TRYING to pass this entry exam, will you PLEASE keep it down!”
“Oh you are much too uptight,” purred a sultry Cleopatra, as she stroked his shoulders. Einstein shut his eyes and leaned into her hands in ecstasy. “Come my darling, let’s finish this in private.” She took his hand and led him to one of the many alcoves in the wall, covered by nothing more than a heavy drape.
Reminded of his wandering Josephine, Napoleon hopped off the chair and commenced to finding her. It was not hard.
Sitting in amongst a swell of buxom ladies; Mr. Wallace languished easily, his feet up on one of the chairs. He raised his arm to drink, letting his kilt fall lazily to the side. Napoleon quickly averted his eyes as stark white flesh peeped out from underneath the plaid cloth. A wave of twitters erupted from the ladies as they all jostled for a better position.
“Now, now thar ladies, ye can all have a seat near me.” Mr. Wallace glowed in his popularity. Napoleon caught site of his wife sitting right next to the muscular, red-headed gentleman, and fury broiled up inside him. He tugged at his black scarf, loosening it as the sweat started to roll down his fat back. He strode into the midst of the ladies prepared to give Josephine a piece of his mind, but instead walked right into the solid chest of a very tall Scot.
“Now what we ‘ave ‘ere, ladies?” They sniggered. “I say wee man, ye should’na shove yer way inta ‘ere like tha’, ‘s rude aye?”
All the ladies’ eyes were locked on this handsome gentleman, standing up to the feisty Napoleon. A huge smile broke out on the rugged face, “Aye, wee lad, hava drink wit us? I’m Harold Wallace, though most people call me William.”
Napoleon begrudgingly let the giant Scot shake his hand, and lead him to the centre of the arranged tables. William’s massive broadsword lay along one side of his chair, and was almost taller than Napoleon himself.
“Really I should be going, I have zome buzinez to take care of,” Napoleon thought of any excuse to remove himself from the presence of the intimidating warrior.
“Yes, that’s right Leon, run off to your girlfriend.” Josephine spat sarcastically.
Napoleon shot around to look at her, shocked that she knew. “I don’t have any idea what you are talking about, dear.” He feigned ignorance. “I promized Bach a game of Wyst and you know I shall not dizappoint ‘eem.” Josephine huffed and turned away from him.
Embarrassed, Napoleon stumbled over the chairs in his hurry to leave. He heard a wave of bellowing laughter follow him out, and cursed William under his breath.
He came to rest on the far wall, leaning up against it for support. All of a sudden a slender hand shot out from behind one of the drapes and dragged him into the nefarious alcove. “What in zee hel-“
“Oh my dearest General,” the voice crooned. Napoleon smiled warmly at the familiar voice. His hands found her voluptuous waist and layers of robes. He pursed his lips and stretched up on his tip toes to meet her wrinkled lips.
“Oh my Roly Poly, I thought you weren’t coming.”
“It’z zee only way I can zee you now, zeemz zee portal to your dimension haz been moved to connect with the tenth dimension. Truzt me, you don’t want to go zere, last time I try to zee you, zome Eskimo tried to harpoon me!”
Mother Theresa sighed and sat down on the bench in the dark alcove. “I knew we would be caught one day, the historical council always finds ways to ruin our fun. Just because I am destined to be a great Nun, all holy and pure…does that mean I am devoid of enjoying the pleasures of life? What would I be without the freedom to era-hop?”
“I do agree my lovely, alzough since zee zree Musketeers discovered zee hole, zey have been careless, and were spotted by Aristotle, who of course, ratted them out to zee council. Who in turn moved zee portal.”
“Tsk, silly little men.” She scolded, entwining her fingers around her rosary. “Alas we may never see each other after tonight, although my dimension is going to be having a ‘coming of Christ’ party soon.” Theresa rolled her eyes.
The Twelfth Dimension clock chimed quarter to. “Oh zut, my darling I must leave you, I promised Bach a game and you know how horrible ‘ees music sounds when he ‘ees stressed out. I really must go meet ‘eem.”
“May God go with you…oh what am I saying? Come here my Poly.” Theresa grabbed Napoleon in her long arms and hugged him close, kissing him deeply. “Take that Catholic church!” She grinned triumphantly, her cheeks flushed with excitement. Napoleon bowed gracefully and kissed her hand.
“Until zee next era, my love.” And with that he slipped out of the alcove back into the bright lights of the ballroom.
Napoleon made his way to the stage where Bach had fallen dead asleep on the organ keys. A steady drone whined from the pipes, as drool dripped slowly off the ivory keys.
“Debout!” He said loudly clapping Bach on the back. The old man jumped up from the organ bench disoriented and blubbering. “Waa? Wasuh?” Bach flailed and tripped over the bench, flying backwards and landing in a heap on the stage. A few snickers erupted from the milling crowd.
“Come mon ami, you are getting too old to be coming to zese parteez, have a seat wiz me.” Napoleon guided the bewildered musician to a side table.
“Vater, vater! Can ve go play vis de goat man?” Half of Bach’s ten living children surrounded the old man.
“Achtung kinder, he does not like being called that. His name is Pan, and you’d best remember that!”
The five children stared up at Napoleon as if noticing him for the first time. Napoleon stared back at the little gremlins in something akin to horror. The five little offspring of Bach and his closely related wife; were living gargoyles. The boy nearest him had no upper lip and a third ear on the top of his forehead. A blonde-headed girl beside him giggled, her four chins vibrating with each sound. Bach shooed them all away and Napoleon almost choked on his wine as he watched two walk away on their hands, for lack of useable feet.
He turned back to Bach, to find the wizened old cadger hunched over asleep on the table. “Sacre Bleu!” Napoleon cursed, “What a waste of an evening!”
Suddenly a deafening gong blasted across the room, leaving it in stunned silence. Everyone stopped dancing, drinking, fighting or whatever other nefarious activities they were doing, to listen. The monstrous Twelfth Dimension clock gonged again, vibrating the room right down to the floors. The deep sound reverberated off the walls, shaking the chandeliers.
Famous people from all the dimensions crowded about their ‘viewing bowls’ and peered anxiously down into the Twelfth Dimension.
“SEVEN…!” the oddly dressed future-humans roared. The clock chimed again, louder.
“SIX…!” People were raising their wine glasses and linking arms. Napoleon sighed, rolling his eyes and started to make his way to his dimension portal, to go home.
“FIVE…!” The clock gonged very loud and Napoleon jumped, covering his ears. All around him people were grimacing at the increasing volume.
“FOUR…!” The twelfth dimension partiers were obviously unaware of the deafening clock’s roar.
“THREE…!” They continued to count. GONNNNGGG, the clock boomed sending shock waves through the room. Glasses shattered and tables overturned. The room started to vibrate and people began running madly to their portals. Napoleon heard someone scream and he had had enough. He turned and dove for his portal.
“TWO…!” Napoleon smacked hard into the solid wall. “What in bleeding hell!?”
All around him historical figures were pounding on their portal walls, to no avail. They were all shut. GONNNNGGG, the clock roared. People crumpled to the ground covering their ears. The whole room shook violently and Napoleon fell.
“ONE!…HAPPY NEW YE-“ The lights flashed and went out, the clock gonged a final time and a wrenching, deafening shatter screeched across the room. People screamed and clawed desperately at their portals. Napoleon writhed on the ground as blood started to drip from his shattered eardrums. Suddenly a blinding flash of white light snapped across the room and everything disappeared.
Napoleon hurled up the food he had just eaten as everything around him whirled in vicious upending circles. His body slammed hard into the ground, knocking the wind out of him and blurring his vision.
He lay still…hearing nothing, seeing blurry shapes. His head pounded, he was dizzy and disoriented. Slowly he started hearing people crying out in shock…others moaning in pain. His vision started to right itself and the swirling shapes started to shimmer into clarity.
Sitting up gingerly, he blinked in the bright sunlight. “Uuuuhhh,” moaned Pocahontas from beside him.
“My horse! I’ve lost my horse!” Cried a distraught King Richard III, a little ways away.
Napoleon surveyed the area around him. Bodies lay strewn across the grass, helter-skelter, some pushing still inert bodies off themselves. Napoleon caught sight of Josephine nearby, staggering to her feet. Her gorgeous ballroom gown was torn and muddy. Someone had spilled dark rum all over it, and her hair was a matted mess.
“Josephine, my darling!” He cried out, raising his arm to her.
“Oh Leon!” she cried stumbling over and flopping down beside him.
“Where are we, for god zakes what happen?” Josephine sobbed into his shoulder.
“I do not know, my dear.” He replied stroking her hair.
All around him bodies were pushing themselves up and staggering to their feet, adjusting torn clothes, and gazing around at the trees and perfectly manicured grass they were sitting on. They were surrounded by empty bottles and broken glasses littered the grass. Toto ran by obviously looking for Dorothy.
Napoleon stood shakily and took a better look at where they were. A stone bench sat under a large Maple tree a few hundred yards away. He turned and spotted a snaking path of solid stone winding its way past them. People were walking by, glaring at them and whispering. Very strangely dressed people.
“Oooh!” Josephine gasped. “Is that woman wearing pants? Look Leon, she has pants on like yours! Ooh, the nerve of her!” His wife scolded, at the woman jogging by, her hair swaying behind her in a ponytail.
A hand rested on Napoleon’s shoulder. “Where in the hell do you think we are mate?” A muscled Hercules asked quietly. Napoleon gazed way up at the hulking man, feeling somewhat safer with him standing there.
“I have no idea,” he replied rather meekly.
“I told you! I warned you all! The end of the world as we know it!” Robin Hood raved from beside Chiang Kai Shek, waving his arms madly. Nervous cries broke out from the bedraggled group, women clung to men and the men clung to each other.
“You there! What in god’s name are you all doing out here? This is public property! Get up, get UP all of you this instant or I’ll arrest ya’!”
“Arrest us?” Galileo looked puzzled. “You are threatening to slow us all down? I am sorry Sir I don’t understand.”
“Oh a jokester huh? Git yer ass on the ground!” The short, portly man strode towards a frightened looking Galileo.
“Attention dispatch we have a 10-29, repeat a 10-29, I need some serious back up here.” The fat man spoke into a tiny black case on his shoulder. The case crackled back, scaring Tutankhamen, who was standing nearby.
“10-4 we hear you Lance, on our way.”
“Alright I wanna to know, what you guys were doin’ last night? Ya’ can’t be partyin’ in Central park, man! This is New York man, look at the mess you drunkards left!” The policeman scolded, surveying the haggard crowd of cross-dressers, alcoholics, drug addicts, and obvious fetish fiends.
Terrified whispers raged through the small crowd. “Aye! What year is this?” Hollered William Wallace from the back.
The policeman glared over at him, and responded sarcastically “Playing stupid are we? Get off it, Scotty! It’s January 1st 2000. Everyone knows that! Now all of you git on the ground, yer’ all comin’ down to the station!.”
Napoleon shrieked in horror and fainted dead away, dropping into Josephine’s waiting arms…
***
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matty_j reviewed Version 2 -
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great idea! i loved the different accents, the playful tone and how fun it was.
it definitely could be broadened into a bigger story. i would love to know more about the portal meeting room and what happened to everyone once they arrived in the 12th dimension.
nice pacing and flow as well.
overall it was a wonderful piece!
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thisisnotanexit reviewed Version 2 -
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enjoy! and i did. an endearingly crack-headed idea executed with verve and no little comic panache. it’s good. perhaps squeeze some less obvious jokes out. the accents upset me at first, but it becomes clear that they’re necessary. the punctuation isn’t as bad as you think, although you’re not quite sure about dialogue. even if the sentence is an exclamation and punctuated as such, the dialogue tag isn’t capitalised. so:-
“Josephine, my darling!” he cried out, raising his arm to her.
that’s the correct formulation. same goes for questions, and indeed for full stops, or periods, as you persist in calling them.
yeah. it’s ‘zany’ (sorry. hate the word.) but you keep it together. it works, i think, and is certainly successful within the remits of the short story. any longer and the conceit becomes tiresome, or would do, i think.
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