The scene...
It's a brisk Autumn morning in always sunny Seattle. The peaceful little town has awoken and people have just rubbed the sleep from their eyes, stretched, yawned, broke wind and turned on the a.m. grunge music station on their radios.
Angie Cox, fashion blog icon, Netherlands ambassador, secret fashion crime fighter and general gadabout town leapt enthusiastically through her bedroom door to greet the day in stately Cox Manor.
Several minutes later she picked herself up off her bedroom floor, shook her head painfully and straighted her nose with a resounding *crack.* She then sprang to her feet and OPENED her bedroom door, took a few steps back and did a " Take 2 " on her ballet inspired leap, finishing with a somersault and stood akimbo, hero style in the corridor, her dressing gown strangely fluttering behind her in the still morning air.
" Good morning, ma'am. "
Angie's crime fighting reflexes reacted and she did a backward roundhouse kick which Malfred, her loyal butler automatically ducked and then returned to his full height to calm attention.
" Breakfast, ma'am ? ", he calmly enquired.
" Oh ! Sorry, my good manservant ! I thought you were one of my many enemies ready to get the drop on me before I get the full wakey wakeys ! Good thing your previous experience as a post-Christmas sales store clerk and daycare worker had you more than prepared for my vicious onslaught ! "
" No harm no foul, ma'am ", he replied in his customary dry English tone without a hint of emotion.
" What would ma'am like ? Uitsmijter ? With extra uits ? "
" You betcha, Mal baby ! ", Angie beamed, licking her lips in anticipation.
" Very good, ma'am... baby ", he drolled.
After breakfast Angie decided she needed go on a drive to brush away the cobwebs she didn't have.
Instead of the You-look-KILLA-mobile twin RS-25 NASA jet engine Morris Minor, she had another idea.
Flipping a switch, a hidden door opened revealing a full sized Roman chariot and an automatic platform slid it out and deposited it onto the garage floor. Suddenly the theme from Ben-Hur broke out over the crackly mansion loudspeaker.
" Hey, nice touch, Malfred ! ", she grinned and nodded.
" It's what I do, your Fab-ness... ma'am ", Malfred intoned.
" ...Apparently, I don't have a life ", he added.
" ASSEMBLE THE CHARIOT TEAM !!! ", Angie murmured.
Malfred returned with the chariot pulling team and set about attaching them to the carriage.
" Steady on, you little scamps ", he gently chided them as they excitedly stirred.
Within grand prix tyre changing time, Malfred had completed the task and then quietly stood at attention beside them.
The chariot team attempted to do likewise, but were too much in the moment.
Angie reappeared dressed in her immaculate riding outfit consisting of a brown tweed jacket, beige cashmere turtleneck, riding breeches and knee high boots... and a pink deaths head biker facemask and goggles... " Insects are for beating, not eating ! ", she often said.
" MMMFFF !!! MFFFMMM !! ", she said.
Malfred and the chariot team looked at each other and he shrugged.
Angie removed the facemask and inhaled deeply.
" I can't breathe in that dang thing, by Coco ! ", she exclaimed with a gasp.
" It appears you haven't removed the plastic bag, ma'am ", Malfred informed her gently.
" I don't need it anyway ! No bugs dare step foot ( or wing ) in my beloved state of... Umm... Which state are we in ? "
" Washington, ma'am. "
" ...Wash-a-tongue ! ", she finished.
Malfred sighed. " Close enough, ma'am. "
" How's my team of awesomesauce ? ", she asked.
" Chomping at the bit as they say, ma'am. "
Angie looked at them with unbridled pleasure and pride. Ahead of her stood eight of Yorkshire's finest, a dogsled team of said Yorkshire terriers ( and one Australian dingo/cattledog mongrel that somehow made it's way in ) that for the past five years had put their Husky competitors to shame in the Alaskan Iditarod and were sipping dog friendly cocoa in the lodge long before they were even close to crossing the finish line.
All eight looked over their shoulder and gave a happy bark before resuming their position of attention.
" H'YAHHHHH, MY PRETTIES !!! H'YAHHHH !!! ", Angie murmured again.
As one, their paws scampered in place for several seconds, building up speed before they shot off like a roadrunner on Red Bull, USMC coffee and speed.
Luckily, Malfred had long learned to leave the gateways open ( after many mishaps ) and no damage was done, apart from the thousand year old tree which was demolished on the first turn through the main gate.
" Whoops ", Angie sputtered, spitting out and wiping off shredded bark and leaves.
The chariot team had settled to cruising speed once they made the freeway, but still managed to overtake a sports car or two.
" Onward, Sam ! Sam the 2nd ! Sam the turd ! Dishlicker ! Crotchsnapper ! Squirrelchomper ! Leghumper ! and Maaaate ! ", Angie urged as they weaved around and sometimes over the traffic ahead, ignoring the many urgent beeping horns and friendly greetings from other appreciative road users.
Several minutes later, they returned to stately Cox Manor with a convoy of police vehicles, sirens wailing close behind and three choppers in the air.
" I was never here ! ", Angie calmly intoned as she ran past Malfred to the secret entrance to the Fab Cave and locked herself in.
" To think I left the old country for this ", he sighed as the terriers and one dingo/cattledog yapped loudly around his feet. The sound of a dozen police boots crunching over the driveway following shortly after.
" Oh, well... England expects... "
