#perhaps I resurrect it??? i have the weirdest writing ambitions and ideas lately

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

August 8: Sneak Some Zucchini onto Your Neighbour’s Porch Day

Almost every time, I write something for a specific day, I will, for some reason, finish and upload it late.

This time, it was because, on August 8, I had a LOT of bad luck which swept over to the next few days which is why this chapter is late by three days... >.<

It’s a very silly side story (just look at the name) but, after rembering about the day while looking through my notes, for some reason, I just had to write it down. (And the story fit so unbelievably well into the timeline! I’m still amazed about that.)

Don’t expect much though XD

London, England, United Kingdom – August 1847

 Cloudia didn’t like to stay in the Phantomhive townhouse longer than necessary. There were various reasons for that, and one of them was the fact that while the Phantomhive Manor was located in the middle of the woods with the next centre of human living being a few kilometres away, the townhouse could be found in the middle of London – a vibrating city which grew and grew in inhabitants. Many were fond of the liveliness of the city, politely ignored the Thames’ and the streets’ smell for the radiance – but Cloudia who preferred being all by herself in the library or the anteroom of her chambers, sitting comfortably in an armchair and devouring a book, preferably a good one, London was a place you made sure to leave as quickly as possible as soon as the Season was over.

Of course, Cloudia could still sit in silence and enjoy a book in the townhouse with the doors and the windows shut and barricading her from the loud world outside – if it wasn’t for her neighbours.

The manor didn’t have any immediate neighbour houses, but the townhouse had two: The house on the left belonged to the Dowager Duchess Sophia of Hainault, a nice elderly woman who, nowadays, spent most of her time in the countryside and didn’t even come to London for the Season. The house on the right, however, was the property of Arlington Lincoln, the Viscount of Middalanoware, and his wife, Danielle.

Danielle was two or three years older than Cloudia and much more energetic. She was even much more lively than Constantia and much more annoying than Cloudia’s cousin as her most salient “talent” was to order around servants with that piercing voice of hers and run around hysterically. Her husband, Arlington, was around a decade older than her but definitely not less loud and nerve-wracking. He alone had been a nuisance, but ever since he had married Danielle two years ago, the noise level had drastically increased. Undoubtedly, they were disastrously well made for each other.

Phantomhives had never been religious persons. Cloudia only ever attended the Easter and Christmas masses whenever she found the time. This lack of faith wasn’t connected to the fact that they murdered for a living – after all, there were killers who took lives for their religion just like there were killers who claimed themselves to be religious and murdered people for other reasons or for nothing else than “for the sake or thrill of it.” It was just that if you asked Cloudia that after seeing so much of the world’s dark side that you couldn’t do anything else but doubt the existence of a God.

The Viscount and Viscountess of Middalanoware, however, were devout members of the Anglican Church, and every Sunday, chaos broke out in their house to get ready for the Sunday mass. Unfortunately, they frequented a church whose mass started at eight o’clock in the morning which meant that around six o’clock, sometimes even earlier, Danielle Lincoln’s voice woke up the nearby residents like a vicious cock.

Including Cloudia who couldn’t believe that the walls of the Phantomhive townhouse were known for their “noise attenuation.”

  If this house wasn’t family-owned for decades, I would have sold it ages ago to the next best person willing to live right next to Mr and Mrs Eardrum Piercer. And to their unbelievable and unknown fortune, being the Watchdog wasn’t a carte blanche for murder.

  Cloudia woke up, rolled out of her bed, and grabbed her dark blue dressing gown which she put on and furiously buttoned. On her way out, she quickly checked in the mirror of her dressing table that she didn’t look too horrendous.

  I couldn’t murder Arlington and Danielle – but I could surprise them at their back door and remind them as politely as I managed that they weren’t the only ones living on this street and that they also weren’t the only ones getting ready for church, only the only ones who couldn’t do it in adequate silence.

I massaged my temples. I had returned from my holidays in Wales only yesterday, and today, I had to visit Antonia Rossini’s tailor’s shop because I needed new clothes for Cedric and me for the meeting with the Queen next Saturday. I needed rest, I needed silence – I needed a few more wonderful hours of sleep. And a few annoying Zounderkites at whom I could be passive aggressive.

  Walking down the corridor, Cloudia nearly collided with Cedric who was also wearing his dressing gown over his night clothes, but unlike her, he hadn’t bothered buttoning it or making sure that his hair didn’t give others the impression that he had been involved in a bombing.

Cedric blinked at her through his crooked glasses. “Countess, good that you are awake too – if you weren’t I would have had to question your hearing. Are the neighbours dying? And is that happening regularly?”

Cloudia shook her head and suppressed an unladylike yawn. “Unfortunately, my dear neighbours, Arlington and Danielle Lincoln, aren’t dying. They are only terribly noisy and get nervous and hysteric every Sunday as if it was their first mass although they are members of the church for many years now.”

“How long will this go on?”

“Until around half past seven.”

“I think I’ll return to the Dispatch now and continue sleeping there,” Cedric said, rubbing his eyes. “Good luck with whatever you want to do, Countess.”

He was about to turn around and walk back to his room, most likely to get his possessions, but Cloudia grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her.

“You are going nowhere, Undertaker,” she hissed. “We have to go to a tailor today for the Queen’s drawing room – and you will not leave to sleep somewhere else while I have to endure this nonsense.”

“How cruel, Countess, wanting me to suffer with you.”

“Don’t think of it as cruelty from me but as solidarity from you.”

“I can pass on solidarity – I can’t pass on sleep.”

“Do you think I think differently? That’s exactly why I wanted to pay the Lincolns a visit and tell them to lower their goddamn voices – of course, without putting it like that.”

“I like that, you should definitely say it like that,” Cedric meant. “Then they will be too shocked to speak.”

“I’m telling you – nothing in the world, no matter how shocking, will stop Danielle and Arlington from speaking too loudly in their piercing voices. The shock may make them even more hysterical.”

“How in the world aren’t they already dead?”

“I am asking that myself every time I’m here,” Cloudia replied, starting to walk again and dragging Cedric with her.

“But if nothing can stop them, Countess,” he asked, “can you stop them with only a polite ask?”

“Honestly, I don’t think so,” she said, “but I want to try. What do they say? ‘Suck it and see.’”

Cedric stared at her. “It seems like you really do need more hours of sleep – that was uncharacteristically colloquial for you.”

“I am talking – and when people are talking, they are colloquial. What makes it so wondrous? We aren’t in a novel after all,” Cloudia grumpily told him. “We don’t have to speak in perfect grammatically correct sentences. And we don’t have to use the right, intelligently formulated and intellectually appropriate proverbs or idioms. Sometimes, we can use the colloquial versions of them.”

“You only didn’t use it because it’s about pudding, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“‘The proof of the pudding is in the eating.’ That’s the nice version of ‘Suck it and see.’ You didn’t want to use it because you didn’t want to mention pudding in front of me, right?”

She blinked at him. “Undertaker, you are being ridiculous.”

Cedric stopped walking and brought Cloudia to a halt too. “I am not. You didn’t want to make me hungry, right?”

“Undertaker…”

“But you’ve failed, Countess. I am hungry now. Do you think it would be eyebrow rising if I go and get Arwyn so that he makes me pudding and that cheesy Glamorgan sausage?”

Cloudia rolled her eyes. “Not that again.”

“They will never guess that I am a Grim Reaper. They will probably think I’m a magician, a witch, a sorcerer, a wizard – and I will say when they chase me to the top of a mountain with their torches and pitchforks: ‘I’m a wizard!’ in some fancy but not fancy fancy accent. And after my proclamation, I will seemingly vanish into thin air and continue eating my pudding and sausage in the Dispatch. Warm, comfortable, with the pleasant knowledge that I won’t have to attend any awkward parties anymore. Well, except the annual ‘Very Awkward Grim Reaper Ball.’ That’s not its official name, but everybody calls it by that name. Or perhaps, it’s only me. I don’t really talk to the other Reapers; I have no clue what goes on in that undead brains of them, and I don’t want to find out because it would be weird and…”

“Undertaker,” Cloudia cut him off. “We came back from Wales just yesterday – and you know how silly our stay there was –, and there’s a fixed amount of nonsense I can tolerate. And this amount is long strained. Also, even though I went to sleep early yesterday, I lack sleep – and you lack it too. Our brains are not working properly; we are talking nonsense, the neighbours are nonsensical… It’s too much. We need to breathe in and out and stop this before it gets out of hand. On a side note: We both know that it would be much more believable if you said you were a jester than a wizard.”

“Today is ‘Sneak Some Zucchini onto Your Neighbour’s Porch Day.’”

She blinked at him, taken by surprise by his contextless statement. “Wait – what?”

Cedric stepped closer to her and bent down to whisper into her ear even though the corridor was empty except for them and even though he had openly talked about being a Grim Reaper only a few minutes ago. “I shouldn’t be telling you that but, in some centuries, August 8 will be known as ‘Sneak Some Zucchini onto Your Neighbour’s Porch Day.’”

“What kind of weird holiday is that?”

“The weirdest.”

“Do people really celebrate this day?”

“Only weird people.”

“And why do they do it?”

“Because it’s fun – it won’t silence the Lincolns, but, at least, it’s a funny, confusing prank.”

“And why did you mention it? Do you want to sneak some zucchini onto the Lincolns’ porch? We are a Watchdog and a Grim Reaper and make up a weird partnership, but we aren’t that weird to sneak zucchini on a porch. What reason is there to leave a fruit most wrongly call a vegetable on the porch of neighbours you don’t like? I have no idea what is wrong with the people in the future, but we are definitely not as weird as that. We aren’t such oddballs, such nutcases, such crackpots.

“If they find out about that, we will get sent straight to one of those awful asylums, and the hysteric laughter of Danielle and Arlington will sound right behind us until the carriage door closes and even all the way to the asylum and for all eternity. To cut my rambling short: This isn’t something we should do. Especially not I. No matter what, we will never sink so low.”

Cedric looked at her, his eyebrows raised, and Cloudia looked back at him, her own brows contracted.

“I will get as much zucchini as I can carry from the pantry,” Cedric said.

“I will make sure that the coast is clear,” Cloudia said. And with no other word, they went to work.

  ***

  “Jester to Blood Queen – the hatchlings have safely landed in the nest, I repeat: Jester to Blood Queen, the hatchlings have…”

“Undertaker, I am standing right next to you.”

Cloudia and Cedric were standing behind some bushes in the front yard, shielded from the passers-by on the road. She had a spyglass in her hand although there was no need of it because the Lincolns’ porch could be seen very well by the naked eye from where they stood. He had a small sack full of zucchini thrown over his shoulder, looking like the oddest Santa Claus.

  I wondered what Armstrong would think if he noticed that all his zucchini supplies had mysteriously vanished – and that, coincidentally, a bunch of zucchinis had appeared on the neighbour’s porch.

  “What is the plan, Countess?” Cedric asked, pushing away the bush branches to look at the neighbouring house. The door was open, and a woman stood in the doorsill, talking loudly to the servants working on the carriage.

“I will go and distract Danielle,” Cloudia said. “It’s early, she is busy but manners are manners, and she would definitely invite me for tea in her parlour. We will go there, and, perhaps, she will take one of the servants working on the carriage with her. It doesn’t really matter if she does or not. What matters is that she is gone and that the servants are far too captivated by their work to notice a fast moving silver-haired man putting zucchini on the porch.” She paused. “Did I really say that?”

“You did,” Cedric said and nodded.

“I am not asleep, and this is nothing more but a fever dream?”

“It isn’t, and if it was, I would be the guard dog of your fever dream – and all the other fever dreams to come and go.”

“The guard dog of the guard dog?”

“The fever guard dog of the guard dog’s fever.”

“Let’s just start.”

“Yes, we should.”

“Then, we can sleep.”

Cedric smiled a young boy’s happy, innocent, but sly smile. “Then, we can sleep.”

  ***

  With grace, Cloudia walked out of the townhouse’s courtyard and to her unpleasant neighbour and hoped that her grace and elegance could cover the fact that she was wearing a dressing gown and her hair was dishevelled.

  Why lie?

I was doomed. If someone who knew me saw me on the street, I was doomed to a life of being ridiculed and being laughed at. The others living here would understand, surely they would. After all, I was definitely not the only one bothered by the Viscount and Viscountess. Passers-by who didn’t live here though wouldn’t get easy on me.

Hell, I was doomed.

But now, I could only smile happily and wave at Danielle as I had already entered her courtyard.

  “Lady Cloudia! How did I get the pleasure?” Danielle Lincoln said, nearly screamed, her eyes widened in surprise.

“My dear Viscountess,” Cloudia said, approaching her. Every time, they stood side by side, she was always amazed how such a petite woman could produce such powerful sounds. “I am sorry if I am disturbing you so early – and even on a Sunday although I know very well that you are readying yourself for church. But can we still talk? It won’t take too long, I assure you.”

“Oh, well… yes, of course, Lady Cloudia,” Danielle replied, a puzzled smile on her lips. “Gisela!”

“You called for me, Viscountess?” spoke a voice from behind Cloudia. She stepped away and positioned herself differently to see an old, little woman with short brown hair and a fringe, glasses, wrinkles, who emitted wickedness and was wearing a housekeeper’s clothes.

“Gisela,” Danielle said, smiling as if she couldn’t sense the woman’s apparent evilness. “Could you prepare tea and cucumber sandwiches for Lady Cloudia and me?”

“Of course, Viscountess,” Gisela replied before she laid her small, vicious eyes on Cloudia. “We shouldn’t tolerate such behaviour,” she said as if Cloudia wasn’t there, and Cloudia had to fight the urge to kick her in the chin. “Arriving, uninvited, unannounced on a busy Sunday morning in such an inappropriate attire. Some people must have been raised in the wild – surely they are those deemed insane and looked away for good.” Gisela wrinkled her nose in disgust before she vanished inside the house.

  I was certain that Agatha and Gisela were blood-related. Perhaps even mother and daughter. I should bring them together as they lived side by side. It would make a dreadful reunion.

  Danielle cleared her throat, smiling, beaming. “Lady Cloudia? Please follow me to the parlour.” She turned around and walked ahead. Cloudia looked if she saw Cedric somewhere but she didn’t catch sight of him and followed Danielle inside.

  ***

  I had never been inside the house of the Viscount and Viscountess of Middalanoware, and to be honest, it could have stayed like that.

You might have guessed that a house inhabited by two lively persons who only ever wore vibrant colours would emit life, but it didn’t, and it was clear that Gisela had been the one who had decorated the house. All was white and bleak and cold. It was just like how I imagined an asylum looked like.

An asylum where I would end up if someone found out about Operation Zucchini.

Or that I had thought of it as such.

  “How is Arlington doing?” Cloudia asked, putting down her teacup after taking a short sip of the flavourless tea. “I would ask you how you are doing, but you are sitting right in front of me looking so lovely and healthy that it wouldn’t make a lot of sense if I did.”

Danielle smiled at her. “He is doing well. We are doing well – and thanks for the compliment, Lady Cloudia. But, in the hope that I don’t sound rude, may I ask what made you come to my house in a dressing gown?”

“Oh, you see, Danielle, I woke up – and, suddenly, a few interesting riddles came to my mind, and I thought ‘Oh, they would be perfect for my riddle loving friend Danielle!’ And because I was too excited for your answers and reactions, I couldn’t help myself but come to your house immediately to ask you the riddles.”

Danielle’s eyes lit up and widened. “Riddles, you say?” she shrieked and nearly pierced Cloudia’s eardrums.

  The Viscountess of Middalanoware wasn’t very intelligent, and she knew that very well, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t be a lover of riddles and mysteries from the bottom of her heart.

  Cloudia smiled. “Nice ones, wonderful ones – ones you’ve hopefully never heard before.”

“Then,” the Viscountess chewed on her lips and pondered for a moment if she could spare a minute or two even though they were in a hurry, “let us start, Lady Cloudia.”

She cleared her throat. “Very well, Danielle, here’s the first one: ‘Of flesh and blood sprung am I ever; but blood in me that find ye never. Many great lords bear me proudly, with sharp knives cutting me loudly. Many I’ve graced right honourably: Rich ones many I’ve humble made; many within their grave I’ve laid!’”

It took Danielle a while to come up with the answer. “A pen!” she yelled, smiling. “The answer to the riddle is a fine, fine pen.”

“That’s right,” Cloudia replied, making the smile on Danielle’s face grow. “Then, to the next one: ‘I’ve seen you where you never was, and where you ne’er will be; and yet you in that very same place May still be seen by me.’”

Danielle giggled. “It’s so easy! It’s a face’s reflection! These riddles aren’t challenging at all, Lady Cloudia.”

“Well, then, let us head to a scenario: We are walking through a park when we see two women talking to an older man while sitting on a bench. I come to a halt and make you stop too as I want to point the women out to you. I tell you, ‘Those women, do you see them? They are like two peas in a pot with not only their faces being one and the same but also their dresses and their hair-does.’ And upon hearing my words, you reply, ‘But, Lady Cloudia, dearest, isn’t it obvious? The two women are nothing but twins.’ And I shake my head. ‘The women, Lisa and Louise Barnes, share a birthday, share a mother and a father but they are certainly not twins.’

“With this scenario in mind, Danielle – what is the explanation?”

The Viscountess seemed to struggle with finding the solution to this riddle – which was fine for Cloudia as she didn’t have to think of another one.

  Of course, as long as Cedric didn’t take too long to leave some zucchinis on a porch.

  And just as if he had heard her thoughts, Cedric appeared on the window opposite from Cloudia and behind the Viscountess of Middalanoware. He danced around like a mad joker, a triumphal smile on her face, and due to her lack of sleep, Cloudia had problems to keep a straight face so that Danielle didn’t notice the man at the window.

“Could it be astrological twins?” Danielle had said before she hit herself softly against the head. “Of course, it can’t be! Silly me! After all, they have the same mother and the same father, right?”

“Yes, they do,” Cloudia replied while Cedric made terrible grimaces.

“But… wait – what if they are adopted?”

“They aren’t adopted.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes – they are of the same blood. And they cannot be astrological twins because, then, they would still be twins which they aren’t.”

Cedric pressed his face against the window, distorting it.

  Hell – had he always been so annoying?

  “Lady Cloudia?”

“Hm?”

“I was asking you if you could tell me the solution now as I am afraid that I don’t have the time to think longer about it.”

“I am sorry, Danielle – I was in thought and…”

Now, Cedric was joggling with a few stones – and failed miserably. The stones rained upon him, and Cloudia nearly started to laugh.

Which made Danielle frown. The frown looked almost obscure on her usually happy, smiling face.

“Is there something behind me?” she asked, turning around, and Cloudia’s heart sunk – but Cedric had vanished before Danielle could glimpse at him. She looked back at Cloudia, still frowning.

“I am sorry,” Cloudia repeated. “A funny memory sneaked onto my mind porch and distracted me. Now, to the solution: You see, Danielle, the riddle explicitly says that Lisa and Louise Barnes aren’t twins, but they are still siblings born on the same day to the same set of parents – but what you forgot to consider is that the riddle doesn’t exclude the possibility of Lisa and Louisa not being the only children of their parents. And they aren’t as they have a sister named Lucy – they are triplets, not twins.”

“Oh, I see!” Danielle clapped her hands together. “What a wonderful riddle! I thank you, Lady Cloudia, and a nice day to you.”

“A nice day to you too, Danielle.”

  ***

  Cloudia had to stop herself from running out of the drawing room and all the way back to the townhouse. Danielle hadn’t brought her to the door as Cloudia had told her that she could do it on her own, having already stolen so much of her precious time she could have spent with church preparations.

She sneaked out of the kitchen door – and walked right into Cedric’s arms, was welcomed by his impish grin. Then, they appeared behind their bush again, waiting for the Lincolns to step out of the door and –

“ARLINGTON,” Danielle cried in piercing confusion so that all the world could hear her, “DO YOU KNOW WHY TWENTY ZUCCHINIS ARE ON OUR PORCH FORMING THE WORD ‘SILENCE’?”

“Twenty-two zucchinis,” Cloudia whispered, smiling. “You need twenty-two zucchinis to form the word…” A chuckle blurting out of her mouth interrupted her. Giggling himself, Cedric took her hand and guided her back to the secret door whose passage behind led to Cloudia’s chambers. They had taken the same way earlier to get out without running into any servants. As soon as the secret door closed behind them, Cloudia’s laughter echoed through the passage – and Cedric didn’t miss this opportunity to laugh with her.

“Did you see her face?” he said in-between ringing laughter. “It was priceless! Priceless!”

They steadied and held onto each other or fell against the walls on their way back to Cloudia’s chambers, and no matter how many steps they had taken – their laughter didn’t run dry.

They tumbled through the secret door and fell down onto the carpet, holding their bellies.

“I cannot believe that we really did that!” Cloudia exclaimed, and Cedric couldn’t speak and only nodded. Then, he reached into his dressing gown’s pocket – and held up a pudding.

“See what I got from the Lincolns’ kitchen.”

“‘The proof of the pudding is in the eating.’”

“Then, let’s proof the pudding and eat it.”

But they made no move to eat it. Instead, they looked at each other and smiled. They didn’t speak; they didn’t stir – they only lay next to each other, the shared laughter from seconds ago still running through their bodies.

  And I cherished this moment – no matter how weird, how odd, how peculiar it was.

Because, apparently, we had left Wales yesterday, but Wales hadn’t left us.

Not for now, at least.

But I knew that as soon as I had woken up for the second time today – I would be the Countess again.

And Wales would be gone for once and for all.

 The third riddle was taken from Sherlock Holmes’ Elementary Puzzles (Carlton Books). The first two riddles can be found here.

Gisela was named after and based on my old German teacher whom I hate with all my heart and soul.