The Trouble with Polly Brown (27 page)

“Good boy, Pitstop. Good boy,” Uncle Boritz muttered as he patted his faithful beast on the head. “Now you too can see what happens when greedy, overindulgent little paupers allow their eyes to become much bigger than their bellies. They look so sad and so very pitiful, don't they?” he said as he patted the beast on the head, a wide grin forming on his face. “Bless their little cotton socks. This sad affair must surely work to purge them of all future desire to ever again eat ice cream. Yes, I don't believe they will be begging me for anything sweet for many long months to come,” he chortled.

Pitstop gave a deep growl for his affirmation.

Aunt Mildred, who, due to a severe migraine and uncontrollable nosebleed, had been lying upstairs on her bed, entered the room only to be met by a scene of absolute carnage.

As she stood over the children, one hand on hip, the other pegging her nose due to the terrible stench of vomit, she too was completely out of mercy. She continued surveying the kitchen floor, a look of pure disgust written all over her face.

“Boritz, what the dickens has been going on behind my back?” she screamed.

“I hope you're well and truly satisfied, for look at them all; they are in the most distressed state, and all thanks to you,” she forlornly cried. “I only have to be absent awhile due to a headache and utter exhaustion, and this is how you repay me! Pray, tell me now, who is going to clear up all this putrefying mess from the floor?” she angrily queried.

Boritz quick response was to childishly shrug his shoulders like a naughty boy caught with his fingers in the honey jar.

“You should never have allowed them to stuff their ugly little faces with so much ice cream, for not only is it a total waste of money, but there is also every possibility that none of them will be fit for school tomorrow,” she raged. “And I, for one, have not the slightest intention of forfeiting my already planned shopping expedition to stay at home and nurse a nauseous bunch of children back to full health,” she contemptuously spat in his direction. “Oh, no. Hear me now and hear me clearly: this affair is not going to scupper any of my plans,” she snorted.

Uncle Boritz stood in an amused silence as he allowed Aunt Mildred to express all that was troubling her seemingly fragile and volatile heart.

“Calm down, dearest one. Calm down, or you'll get another of your terrible headaches that normally keep you bedridden for days on end,” was all he could manage to mutter.

“I daresay all this has, as usual, done much to entertain and amuse you, but I, for one, am deeply upset,” she sternly admitted as she struggled to contain the depth of anger she was truly experiencing.

“Come, come, my dear. Spare me the histrionics. Better still, do not distress your good self any further; otherwise, your migraine, as well as your unstoppable nosebleeds, will undoubtedly return with a vengeance,” he muttered. “Try to see things from my perspective, Mildred dear, for the ice cream machine will be off our hands in the next couple of days, and at least we can have the joy of knowing that not only will we sell it for a rather splendid price, but it is also in perfect working order, so there will be no comeback this time 'round.”

Aunt Mildred seemed to perk up as her husband explained the logic behind what had seemed, up until this moment in time, as nothing short of sheer lunacy.

“Yes, I daresay this experiment may have caused us some slight inconvenience,” he said as he surveyed the children and the mess they had created all over the floor, “but it has also worked for the good, as we stand to make quite a killing when we sell it,” he said as he reassuringly patted her hand in his feeble attempt to commiserate with her. “So come on, dear. Don't be so defeated. Just look on the bright side.”

Poor Aunt Mildred failed dismally to appreciate his supposedly comforting words. “Pray, tell me, dear, how are we going to get them all upstairs and undressed for bed? Oh, I do believe this is all too much, truly it is,” she cried as she broke down into desperate sobbing. Boritz quickly rummaged around in his pockets and finally produced a large, spotty red handkerchief, which upon sight, only encouraged her to bawl louder.

“Don't panic, my dear, we'll get Miss Scrimp to come down from her bedroom to lend a helping hand, and I'll also phone Cecilia and ask her to come quickly to our aid,” he said calmly as he continued on with his patronizing words of comfort.

“Don't be so stupid and disrespectful, dear,” Mildred rather aggressively snapped back. “May I use this moment to remind you that Cecilia is once more back under the professional care of Dr. Ninkumpoop, who says her prognosis is not looking good at all. And other than dear Miss Scrimp, who is having a few hours off from her tireless work in the laundry room, who else in your infinite wisdom might you readily suggest?”

“Well, sweet pea, since you care to mention it, at this precise moment in time I sadly find myself at a complete loss for words. I therefore find myself to be, as usual, entirely at your mercy,” he muttered in his usual obsequious tones.

“And so you should be, Boritz my dear, for ever since Mr. Peawee was forced to leave the castle due to certain unmentionable events, we have not been the least fortunate in finding ourselves another helper even the remotest bit willing to work such long hours for such a paltry sum of money, even though it is combined with full board and lodging.”

“Sadly, that is true,” he morosely muttered.

“So, pray, tell me, my sovereign mastermind, what precisely do you intend to do now?”

Boritz shrugged his shoulders as he continued to play out the remorseful but desperately floundering man. Oh, he knew that, given time, she would eventually calm down; all he had to do was sit and wait it out and, in the meantime, try his utmost to look suitably repentant.

“Are you paying serious attention to all I am saying, Boritz? For I do believe you are also completely oblivious to the fact that there is a most severe gale brewing up, making the weather outside most inhospitable. Even if you made numerous calls asking for help, no one in their right mind is going to leave the warmth and comfort of their home to come over to the castle and then assist me in getting all these desperately sick children up from the floor and into their beds,” she bitterly sniffed.

Suddenly, and much to Boritz's relief, the front doorbell rang, and so with Pitstop close at his side and with a thankful heart, he left the troubling scene to go and see who it was daring to call at this unearthly hour, when, as Mildred had just stated, all right-minded persons would never think to venture out on such a terrible evening as this.

Boritz stopped short of the door and then bent down to peer through the tiny spy glass that was intended to give some idea as to who was on the other side. He felt quite alarmed when he discovered that he could see very little, with the exception of a tall, dark shadow lurking under the porch light. So it was with great reserve and caution that he opened the heavy, creaking oak door to get a better look at the mysterious and up until now unidentified caller.

However, before he pulled back the large iron bolt, he turned to check that Pitstop was on standby, baring his razor-sharp teeth, ready and willing to pounce at a moment's notice if necessary. Confident that he was in full control, he pulled back the bolt, then placed his hand on the doorknob and opened the door wide. He happily breathed a deep sigh of relief before patting Pitstop on his head, sending him the message that all was well and therefore on this occasion so he was not required to sink his razor-sharp incisors deep into the flesh of this particular visitor. Even though Boritz was safely sheltered from the storm, he still managed to shudder as he heard the deafeningly loud crack of thunder as it ripped through the magnificently clouded skies with a vengeance. This was followed on quickly by brilliant streaks of lightning that were blinding in their intensity as they sought to strike out at any object that dared cross swords with them. The wind continued to howl mercilessly, as though it were mourning some sad souls lost at sea, and the sheet rain was equally relentless in its fury as it lashed down hard from the sorely angry and darkened skies above.

“Come in, come in,” Boritz hurriedly urged the silent stranger. The tall, willowy man dressed in a long black raincoat nodded, then stooped as he sought to enter through the door before taking off his rain-drenched hat and making direct eye contact with Boritz. “I'm sorry it's so late, but I felt that I had to come immediately,” said the croaky voice in barely a whisper as rainwater continued to drip from his forehead as well as from the end of his misshapen nose. Boritz nodded to suggest he understood and then moved to one side to allow the mysterious guest to dispense with his umbrella in the tall wrought iron stand.

“Dear sir, please do allow me the pleasure of taking your coat from you,” Boritz sycophantically fawned in his usual and very sickening attempt to curry great favor. The distinguished looking old man hesitated, a concerned look darkening his long, scarred face. “Thank you, but I think it will not be necessary, for I have no intention of staying too long. Therefore, I think it best that I leave my coat on, for that way I can disappear quickly if conditions necessitate that I must,” said the aged and mysterious silver-haired guest.

“Nonsense, my dear man. I won't hear of it. Oh, no, no, no. There is no one here to even take note of your visit, albeit very cloak and dagger. So pray, stay as long as need be,” Uncle Boritz stated very matter-of-factly.

“Thank you, dear sir, and I apologize most profusely for turning up unannounced at such an hour as this, but I must stress that I would never have ventured out on such a night if I did not believe my errand to be of the utmost importance.”

Boritz remained silent as he beckoned his guest to follow him down the long, highly polished hallway. They momentarily stopped halfway down as Boritz fumbled through his thick bunch of keys, struggling to find the right key to open the iron gate. With the small gate finally unlocked, he ushered the gentleman through the opening before quickly relocking it from the other side.

As they walked the remaining distance to Boritz's private sitting room, not a word passed between them. Finally they entered the sitting room, his private sanctuary, and then with the door firmly closed behind them, they took it in turns to breathe a sigh of relief, for they believed themselves to be finally safe—yes, safe from all snooping children with elephant-sized flapping ears and equally long, talkative tongues, which might bring great harm if they were to listen in and then pass on any of their uncle's personal and very private conversations.

“Please do feel free to take a seat, Professor Fossilize,” Boritz said with the utmost charm as he beckoned the tall and elegantly dressed silver-haired gentleman toward a thick plush armchair.

“Mmm…forgive me, but before we get down to the reasons for this urgent visit, I feel the need to clarify something,” the professor quickly said, his voice suddenly sounding a bit annoyed, if not a teeny bit strained. “It's Fossil, not Fossilize,” he protested as he tried and desperately failed in his effort to take no offense.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Professor Fossil,” an extremely repentant Boritz replied, feeling slightly humiliated that he should inexcusably get the poor chap's name wrong, and, if I might add, on their second acquaintance.

“Apology accepted,” said the professor as he sunk back into the chair and began to visibly relax.

Boritz, feeling mightily relieved, then walked a few paces and sat down on a large and very plush velvet sofa. Pitstop waited until his master was comfortably seated before crouching down at his side, his ears pricked, his long, razor-sharp tongue hanging out as he too waited with insatiable expectation to hear the reason behind this sudden and very unexpected late-night visitation.

Boritz moved forward in his seat and was about to break the awkward silence, but due to his bad nerves and an unexpected bout of uncontrollable gas, he was forced to feign a bad coughing fit to hide his embarrassment, and so he failed to notice that once again he further insulted his guest.

“Professor Fossilize, sadly, I am unable to offer you any form of refreshment, for even as we speak, there is a little ongoing crisis still panning out in the kitchen that unfortunately will not be alleviated until I return to assist my dear wife, Mildred. However, all is not entirely lost, for I do have some rather special vintage port, as well as some excellent reserve Napoleon brandy in my private cupboard if you would care for a drop.”

Professor Fossil paused while he considered his colleague's thoughtful and kind offer.

“Thank you, but I feel I must decline your generous offer concerning any form of strong refreshment, but, dear sir, may I also remind you one final time that my surname is not Fossilize, but Professor
Fossil
,” he abruptly stated. “And, my dear fellow, as I am one of the most respected archeological historians this country has to offer, it might pay you, sir, to remember this and so accord me both my correct name and title. Or pray, tell me now, am I asking too much?”

Poor Boritz couldn't show it, but he was now feeling utterly mortified, for how could he make the same mistake not once but twice—and all in the space of a few mere seconds? He needed Mildred by his side, and fast. Without her he was in danger of revealing himself to be little more than a bumbling idiot who had no idea which way to turn. Not that she knew this, of course. Oh no, she could never be allowed such a position of power, or she might use it to her advantage. Such deceit would be considered by him to be unacceptable if not utterly irreprehensible.

“Oh, that would never, never do,” he muttered, shaking his head from side to side as though he were trying to release himself from the middle of some unbelievably frightful nightmare. “My darling Mildred running the show? Never in a month of Sundays!” he muttered under his breath as once again he tried hard to give the professor his full and most deserved attention