Back
to the Karaoke Chaos Party in downtown Minas Tirith for a little masterclass in
setting up your (undercover-cop) characters ‘foo-fun’ personas as impersonators of the
late, great and famous bard stars…
Lesson
1 – How To Make An Entrance!
“Whadya mean he’s… I mean I’m… dead?!”
The seven-footer elf roared at the pub doormen, who
had quite naturally assumed he was a Telvis Parsley impersonator,
was causing more trouble at the cloakroom after first refusing to hand over his
silk lamé iridescent oyster-coloured cape (with diamante detail on the high
collar naturally). The bigger of the two doormen eyed the tall personage warily
as he had a very loud and carrying voice and he had already been slapped off
rather rudely when he had tried to take the cape away… The way this great fella
was windmilling his arms about he was going to take someone’s eye out with the
flouncy cape: not to mention the rather lethal-looking creases in his matching
bell-bottoms, a far too figure-hugging pants-cum-jumpsuit affair… The doorman
quickly averted his eyes here, suddenly feeling quite demoralised by so many
well-defined and shiny muscles.
“I’m sorry Sir, but whether or not you’re
dead, you can’t bring your cape into the bar – there’s not enough room for it
there, and there are candles and such-like… It’s a… a… safety hazard, that’s
what it is!”
The poor mortal shrank back as the well-built
impersonator positively loomed over him curling his lip expertly. Quite frankly
the doorman was actually grateful when a rather tall lanky female with a very nasty
expression in her blazing silver-blue eyes; dark hair, with ill-applied blonde
highlights that seemed to match her belligerent attitude; and… frankly
looked like she’d just got out of a bed - backwards - which may
or may not have doubled as a hedge, judging by all the leaves and twiggy things
that were stuck all over it…
“Oh for heaven’s sake Tellee…
I mean Telvis! Take the stupid thing off already! You can put it on
again when you get onto the stage with the mic! Honestly, can’t you do anything without
making a freaking song and dance about it… Cheese Louise!”
The shorter of the doormen watched with some admiration
as the rather tatty velvet-clad harridan, also wearing too tight bell bottoms
that had somehow forgotten the way to her waist and hung, or rather clung
rather fetchingly, in a kind of gravity-defying way, in the vicinity for her
hips – kind of… grabbed the showy cape off the longshank's impressive shoulders,
and thrust it aggressively under his arm with practised ease.
And then things began to deteriorate again as the
doorman looked at his taller partner in a stunned, horrified, slow-motion ‘oh
my gods! – don’t do it’ manner as he looked ‘kindly’ at the female,
who might have looked like she had been a lady once, but was taking
tonight off come hell or high water.
“Erm… Miss?”
Shorty closed his eyes and tried to look as though he wasn’t there…
“Same goes for your long coat… it’s very… flouncy…”
“Erm… Miss?”
Shorty closed his eyes and tried to look as though he wasn’t there…
“Same goes for your long coat… it’s very… flouncy…”
“Excuse me?”
The temperature in that doorway fell rather rapidly
below frost level, although it was a relatively warm autumnal night.
“Sorry Miss – same as the gent here. It
has to come off… And we have to take your name as well Miss – for the
Kara…Oooo… keee… ooooo my giddee Aunty!” Mr Big finally caught on
to the wisdom of seeking back up, but Shorty had already skedaddled into the
bar and was hiding behind one of the bartenders.
“Never seen spaghetti straps before, Mr
Picky…?”
She laughed rudely as she continued to peel off the distressed patchwork
leather coat that reached to the floor past very curvaceous and soft puce and
yellow velvet legs. The doorman’s eyeballs moved up, almost popping out of his
skull as he took in far too much midriff, not to mention an excessive amount of
ribcage and a rather skimpy – in fact gratuitously skimpy – black silk
undergarment, of a description normally called a chemise, except there was far
too much ‘eez’ in the amount of material that failed to pass the bit that was
supposed to be covering her… chest area.
The aforesaid spaghetti
straps, two very thin silver chains, were in fact woefully inadequate for the
function of holding this scrap of clothing in place… In fact, he couldn’t look
to make sure whether that was a safety pin, or some kind of paper clip trying
to keep one of them attached to the main garment, if one could call it that. As
for the other side – well that appeared to have some kind of badge embossed
with some slogan that might have read as ‘Ban La Bamba’ keeping things up, but
was also failing to keep a rip in the material completely in
place, and so he very wisely tore his eyes away and tried to concentrate on her
furious face, which was just about the best option, although he wasn’t too
convinced when she turned the full wattage of those brilliant glacial eyes on
him.
“Well, make your mind up, bozo! Does the
coat stay on or off – I’m easy either way.”
“You certainly are mada… erm. Well… better
keep it on for now… hummm – it can get quite chilly in there… sometimes!”
He smiled at her nervously as a very long and
business-like blood-red elf-steel nail extension knuckle ring flicked towards
him and ‘chucked’ him very expertly under the chin without breaking his
trembling skin, although her eyes were telling him this could change really
quickly.
“Cool – I’ll make sure not to flounce it
around too much, sugar!”
“Will you tone down the floozy stuff for
the love of…! Sheesh! What’s that cockamamie stench you
got on! Fwaaaah!!” Telvis had
been upwind of Janus on the way over
and hadn’t quite grasped the industrial strength of her eau de
toilette…
“Oil of pat-chooo-lee, I think the man
said… Does ’ooo like it Tellee-wellee!”
She smiled irritatingly around the equally annoying
lisp and started for the bar.
“C’mon on then your King-ship – Momma
needs a drinkie!”
“Ahhhh! Lady… Miss! Your name…. please?” The doorman gave out a last desperate gasp.
“Has he gotta death wish or what! – can
you believe this guy?!” Telly was
getting hot and fed up and whipped off his big black wig with beautiful
matching bushy sideburns, and fanned his face with prejudice for a few moments.
“Nawwwww! He’s just doin’ his job -
aren’t you luvveeee?”
Mr. Big had seen nicer smiles on some alligators and was seriously
thinking of changing his name to Mr Eyemoutta-Here… but he held his ground,
which under the circumstances was pretty wise as this lady looked like she
could run real fast. The nail was
out again and this time was point on to his heart, then travelled over and up,
trailing lazily up his breastbone and lingered like a shard of very hard ice on
the hollow of his throat.
“I’m Jan-ussss, sugarrrr…” Her
voice was a soft honeyed hiss and behind her Telly rolled his
eyes impatiently. This did not help. “Janus Droplin… you’ll have
heard of me for sure - ’cos I ain’t dead, hon… I’m a legend! Just
like ole Telvis here.” Another nasty wide white
smile. “Don’t worr-eee! We’ll be good! You can count on it.”
“Claaaasssseee Jano – I
don’t know what Silen will say to me, if he catches sight of
you in that get-up!” Telly swept into the
bar in a thoroughly bad mood now. “What is it with the vest thing
anyway?”
“I didn’t have time to change it, big
guy! It was part of that costume you said wasn’t appropriate – you know the one
- the Cunning Stu……”
“Ai! Enough already!” Telly turned
quickly and clapped a huge mitt over her mouth and then tugged her over to the
bar whilst she giggled her head off.
“What is it with you and these
foo-prevention gigs these days in this crazy manor? Gimme a Mai Tai chief”
“And the Lady, Sir?”
“Where? Oh, her. Give her anything that
takes away the power of speech for the night, wilya, huh?” He
looked around the bar grumpily.
“Not many people in yet.”
“Well Miah’s a popular
lady – place’ll be humming soon enough!” Jano smiled
a little more nicely as the barkeep handed her a triple whisky.
*Too late! Your skunk oil grossed it out
first!*
Telly was a very intelligent
foo-fighting cop - he didn’t say that bit out loud.
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