AS THE JANE AUSTEN WORLD TURNS
Episode 33
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Episode 33
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In the sleepy town of Meryton , a suburb of the great throbbing metropolis that is known as London
This is their story.
It is late in the evening at the Pemberley Mansion. Fitzwilliam Darcy - handsome, tall, wealthy, pompous, arrogant, stuffy - has just returned home from a combination bird watching tour and leaf buying expedition, only to discover an orgy in progress - in his three month absence his young ward, Charles "Don Juan" Bingley, has turned the once respectable and staid Pemberley Estate into a den of sin and iniquity. With a Starbucks.
It is now known far and wide as the Pemberley Playboy Mansion.
Everyone young and nubile from Meryton is in attendance - those famously loose women of THE PEAKS, the bit o'muslin, the demimonde, the round heeled - including, but not necessarily restricted to, the following:
Those Bawdy Bennet sisters - Coo Coo Kitty and Loosey Goosey Lydia,
the perennially desperate Dr. Charlotte Collins, Proctologist to the Stars,
and Caroline the Contortionist Bingley as the Beaver!
It was quite the plethora of pulchritude.
Fitzwilliam Darcy: I say. Charles old man. I wonder if I might have a word with you?
Charles Bingley: Good god how did you get in here and why?
Fitzwilliam Darcy: Well it is...after all...my home. Charles who are all of these people and where are their clothes? This cannot be in the least bit sanitary and why does this short person keep placing her hands in my pocket? I've no change, young woman, none whatsoever, and no, to answer your ridiculous and repeated question, I do not have a gun in my pocket. How truly bizarre you are.
Charles Bingley: These are school chums of mine. It's a study group.
Fitzwilliam Darcy: With sheep?
Charles Bingley: I never claimed it was a particularly good study group.
Fitzwilliam Darcy: Well, you must ask them to leave. Enough! Please young woman, you are beginning to try my nerves! I know nothing about your pole dancing skills, nor do I wish to...unless, of course, you are speaking of a type of Slavic folk dance perhaps...no? Pardon me madame - if I could just step over you and your small farm animal companion - Charles! what are those ladies doing to your breeches!
Charles Bingley: They are seamstresses. They are taking my inseam.
Firtzwilliam Darcy: With their teeth?
Charles Bingley: Ummm...both are extremely nearsighted.
Fitzwilliam Darcy: I have never seen such odd things in my entire life. I passed a couple on my way into the room who were physically forming the number four.
Charles Bingley: Darcy why don't you run on upstairs and color sort your socks. It would really be bad form if you were here when Wickham arrives. He frankly finds you a bit dim.
Fitzwilliam Darcy: Never tell me that bounder has anything to do with this!
Charles Bingley: Well, rather. He is what they call in America the boss. The Godfather. The grand cherokee. The Donald. He runs things around here - everything. He decides who lives, who dies, who...
Fitzwilliam Darcy: What are you trying to tell me, Charles?
Charles Bingley: Good lord but you're obtuse! He owns the place Darcy my boy. He purchased Pemberley from me for nice bottle of chianti, some shiny beads and a neck nibble.
Fitzwilliam Darcy: How? How is this possible? I trusted you with my most precious possession! Oh heavens - didn't I leave my sister Georgiana here also?
Charles Bingley: Oops.
Fitzwilliam Darcy: Good god, man! What were you thinking? Whatever could be worth giving up Pemberley? Georgiana I can see but...Pemberley!
Charles Bingley: He has promised us all immortality! All of Meryton!
Fitzwilliam Darcy: What does he think he is? German?
Charles Bingley: Don't be ridiculous. He's French. Of course, you must allow him, or one of his followers, to gnaw on your neck, just a tad. Charlotte Collins brought me on board - it was too too odd to think of my sister Caroline doing it, you know, incest and all that.
Fitzwilliam Darcy: Why Charles, I am seriously considering becoming quite vexed with you! Quite! I could even, possibly, become irked.
Charles Bingley: Now if you will excuse me, Darcy, as you can see I am busy at the moment - wouldn't want a wardrobe malfunction so to speak. A little to the left my darlings...
Just then the front doors of the Pemberley Playboy Mansion are thrown open and Dr. George Wickham, Amateur Gynecologist, Polo Player, and Phlebotomist enters, wearing striped pajamas and smoking a pipe. On each arm is a beautiful young woman.
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Charles Bingley: Oh joy! Oh Rapture! I have fallen in love - at first sight! No, no, no my darling...of course that doesn't mean you must stop! Heavens no. That's very good, only please try not to cough quite so much...
Charles Bingley: They are seamstresses. They are taking my inseam.
Firtzwilliam Darcy: With their teeth?
Charles Bingley: Ummm...both are extremely nearsighted.
Fitzwilliam Darcy: I have never seen such odd things in my entire life. I passed a couple on my way into the room who were physically forming the number four.
Charles Bingley: Darcy why don't you run on upstairs and color sort your socks. It would really be bad form if you were here when Wickham arrives. He frankly finds you a bit dim.
Fitzwilliam Darcy: Never tell me that bounder has anything to do with this!
Charles Bingley: Well, rather. He is what they call in America the boss. The Godfather. The grand cherokee. The Donald. He runs things around here - everything. He decides who lives, who dies, who...
Fitzwilliam Darcy: What are you trying to tell me, Charles?
Charles Bingley: Good lord but you're obtuse! He owns the place Darcy my boy. He purchased Pemberley from me for nice bottle of chianti, some shiny beads and a neck nibble.
Fitzwilliam Darcy: How? How is this possible? I trusted you with my most precious possession! Oh heavens - didn't I leave my sister Georgiana here also?
Charles Bingley: Oops.
Fitzwilliam Darcy: Good god, man! What were you thinking? Whatever could be worth giving up Pemberley? Georgiana I can see but...Pemberley!
Charles Bingley: He has promised us all immortality! All of Meryton!
Fitzwilliam Darcy: What does he think he is? German?
Charles Bingley: Don't be ridiculous. He's French. Of course, you must allow him, or one of his followers, to gnaw on your neck, just a tad. Charlotte Collins brought me on board - it was too too odd to think of my sister Caroline doing it, you know, incest and all that.
Fitzwilliam Darcy: Why Charles, I am seriously considering becoming quite vexed with you! Quite! I could even, possibly, become irked.
Charles Bingley: Now if you will excuse me, Darcy, as you can see I am busy at the moment - wouldn't want a wardrobe malfunction so to speak. A little to the left my darlings...
Just then the front doors of the Pemberley Playboy Mansion are thrown open and Dr. George Wickham, Amateur Gynecologist, Polo Player, and Phlebotomist enters, wearing striped pajamas and smoking a pipe. On each arm is a beautiful young woman.
-
Charles Bingley: Oh joy! Oh Rapture! I have fallen in love - at first sight! No, no, no my darling...of course that doesn't mean you must stop! Heavens no. That's very good, only please try not to cough quite so much...
-
Fitzwilliam Darcy: Charles who is she - that vision of grace and charm on his left?
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Charles Bingley: A blonde goddess - my Helen of Troy! I believe she is the eldest Bennet sister, Jane...
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Charles Bingley: Oh lord, another Bennet sister. They breed like rabbits. She is ELIZABETH!
***TO BE CONTINUED***
***TO BE CONTINUED***
3 comments:
You have just converted me to Wickhamism!
And Caroline Bingley as the Beave - LMAO! I'm sure this is exactly what Miss Austen would have written had she been a proficient on a soap opera. :D
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"Haven't you read the flyer?" Hysterical. I definitely got a good laugh!
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