The Repressives

And now for a short, satirical interlude:

The Repressives

Clod Repressive sat down to the small, round table, overflowing with flowered china, scones, and lemon curd, and nodded to his good lady-wife, but never took his eyes off the neatly folded and pressed London Times that was set at his place.

"Good morning, Prissensia. I hope the day finds you well." Clod waggled his mustachio slightly in anticipation of the day's news.

"Yes, Clod, it does. Thank you. I notice you are one and one-half minutes late in breaking your fast. Is something amiss?" Prissy never took her eyes off the cup of tea she was delicately sipping, pinkie properly pointing at a near right angle to her other digits.

"I beg your forgiveness, dear lady-wife. Mullberry aligned my shoes improperly, and I nearly tripped over a spat. Remind me to bring it up with him later."

"Of course. I noticed he neglected to polish your penny collection this month. Do you think we should dock his pay?" Prissy set her tea-cup down, and broke off a piece of a scone, about the size of her thumb. She then took a butter knife and placed a tiny sliver of butter onto the oversized crumb and a pin-head sized dollop of marmalade on it, as well. Prissy brought the scone up to her nose and breathed deeply, savoring its smell, her nostrils fluttering slightly. Then she dropped it into the trash.

"Miss Veritable has done an excellent job with the scones, this morning," noted Prissensia. It was, of course, a pity that her corset precluded actually eating anything.

"Indeed," agreed Clod. "Have you seen the notice in the paper? Victoria Williams is engaged to Percival Armsmatter. The wedding is expected this spring. I was under the impression her parents were sending her to a convent."

"They did. Father Armsmatter was the priest who sponsored her. Apparently she gives very inspiring confessions." Prissy swept some crumbs off the pure white linen table cloth, and sprinkled them into the trash.

"I see. Speaking of which, would you like to procreate this morning?" mentioned Clod as he poured over the financial section.

"Oh, I don't see why not."

"Excellent."

"Ah"

"AH"

"AHH!"

"So, what should we get the couple?" commented Clod as he straightend his tie.

"Oh, I believe a solid silver sauce separator should meet the required standards," replied Prissy as she adjusted her feather hat, slightly.

"Splendid idea," concluded Clod. "Splendid."