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As the SS Substandard pulls from its berth, a powerful-looking older woman strides on deck, her ruffled parasol already opened and held aloft by one meaty arm. The other arm rises stiffly to shield her eyes from the low-slung setting sun. She wears decidedly unstylish clothing - baggy, loose fitting dress that surely conceals numerous petticoats beneath. A very large, ostentatious locket rides next to a heavy silver cross on the cushions that are her bountiful breasts. As she pauses and looks out over the deck, her close-set eyes warding off the glances of curious passangers, one gets the impression of a mighty steel armature, covered liberally by pillows. Chenille pillows. Big fluffy ones, at that.
She glances down, looking it seems, through her decolletage, and starts talking to herself:
"It's alright, dear. You can come out. Nobody here will hurt you. It's such a nice evening. Why don't you take a stroll."
She pauses, as if listening.
"I just knew you could be brave! Just like mummy and daddy!"
Her gaze returns to the deck. As if by its own will her mammoth dress begins to billow outward, The woman seems oddly unperturbed by the chaos occuring beneath her clothing.
The reason for her serenity becomes abundantly clear, as a small figure emerges from the cotton cave. At first it is hard to determine the sex of the child, as a long mop of golden ringlets peeks out from under the hem. A delicate, pale hand grips the dress tightly, holding on for dear life.
"Go ahead, Toddles. It's okay. Prudie will protect you."
Hercules Q. ("Quentin") T. ("Todd") Rehnquist, ESQ. ("Toddles"), age 9, nervously crawls from underneath his governess's (actually, his father's unammaried sister, Prudence Chasity Charity Hope Rehnquist) dress. The crowd on the deck gapes at the boy, who is resplendant in an outfit the worth of which would surely eclipse the GDP of Catlipoca. A velveteen suit, dyed in crimson lake, is perfectly tailored to his delicate frame. White silk hose clad his legs beneath his knee breetches. An ornate lace collar and cuff set finish the outfit.
Toddles, the son of famed inventor Eugene Rehnquist (who made his fortune manufacturing detailed phrenological busts and other, perhaps more unsavory, anatomical models), was orphaned in rather spectacular fashion when his father crashed his supposedly superior-performing verion of the helicopter during a race with Igor Sikorsky. The hapless Eugene also managed to kill his wife, a beautiful but slightly mongoloid chorus girl, who was holding the checkered flag.
A few months after the accident happened, Prudence, bless her heart, decided that a leisurely boat trip to the tropical paradise of Catlipoca would do wonders for Toddle's constitution. If that failed to help, there was a quite famous sanitarium run by a German doctor on a nearby island.
The steamer dips slightly abeam in the light chop, and poor Toddles nearly dives under Prudie skirts once more. She halts his progress by wrapping him up in one beefy arm, and pulling the boy to her chest. He swoons, his head squeezed under her comforting chest, the reassuring cold silver of her cross kissing his forehead. |
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