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  • #4604
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      “But I can’t, I’m too busy with my new art deco project, repainting the gnomes in the garden, supervising Roberto to take care of my crops of… erm medicine. And of course, Uncle Oobie is staying in the caravan for the next weeks, I absolutely need to show him around.”
      “Who would have known the housewife life was so stressful” a metallic voice came from the speakers.
      “Couldn’t have said it better” Finnley said under her breath.
      “Damn it Godfrey, thought you’d deactivated Fliz!”
      “It’s not Fliz, Liz’, it’s Olexa! Not my fault if she has a temper in her notification mode. We installed it so you can reorder hummus by shouting in the air… Or… wait a minute… Has Finnley tricked me there?”
      He looked around, but the maid had scurried along to tend to some important cleaning duties.

      #4595
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        “Finnley, pssst!”

        The maid looked tersely and visibly annoyed at the lanky unkempt guy with the crazy eye.

        “Do not bloody psst me, Godfrey! I’m not your run-of-the-mill hostess, for Flove’s sake.”
        “Alright, alright. Come here, and don’t make a sound!”

        Finnley clutched at her broom, which she’d found could make a mean improved nunchaku in case Godfrey’d forgotten proper manners.

        “Don’t sulk, dear. What I’ve found here is nothing short of a breathrough – pardon my typo, I mean of a breakthrough.”
        “Oh Good Lord, spit it out already, and I mean it metaphorically. I haven’t got all day, you know,… places to clean, all that.”
        “Look at that!”
        Godfrey handed her a pile of typed papers.

        “Well, what’s about it? It does look a bit too neat and coffee-stain free, but the style is unmistakable. Long nonsensical babble, random words and characters, illogical sentence structure and improbable settings… That’s all you have psst ed me for? Another of some old Liz garbage novels?”

        “That’s it! Isn’t it genius?” Godfrey looked at Finnley with an air of sheer madness. “You know Liz hasn’t written in years now, nothing fresh at least. You’ve be one to endlessly complain about that. Something about needing the paper to clean the window glass.”

        “Of course I remember.” She paused, considering the enormous improbability that had just been hinted at. “Do you mean it’s not hers?”

        “Ahahaha, isn’t it brilliant! This is all written by a clever AI. I’ve called it Fliz 2.0 !”

        Finnley was at a loss for words. She didn’t know what was more terrifying, the thought of another Liz, or of an endless inexhaustible stream of Liz prose…

        Godfrey looked pleased at himself “and to think it only took Fliz 44 minutes to spit the entire 888 pages novel!”

        #4570

        Liz felt someone tug at her almost transparent pink silk gown. She tried to ignore it as she worked hard to recall the young woman’s name, she had it on the tip of her tongue.

        The tug got stronger and Liz feared that whomever was doing it they were going to tore her silk veil. She turned around, her irritation colouring her high cheekbones with a nice tint of pink and gasped.
        “What I do with the spiders,” asked a small woman with dark skin and wearing a rainbow sari. “They’re so big big, and SOOOO hungry. They’re going to eat the guests only.”

        Liz shook her head, seeing the curls of her newly acquired blond wig bounce about her face. She looked at the cocktail. What did Roberto said was in those? she wondered.

        “What spiders?” she asked. The maid pointed behind Liz with her chin. When Liz looked she almost dropped her glass. A swarm of colourful giant jumping spiders were running and jumping near the swimming pool, frightening the human guests, while Roberto was riding one of them in his sparkling cowboy costume, laughing like a teenager.
        “So?” asked the maid insistently. “What I do?”
        Liz was confused.
        “Why are they here?” she asked, “I don’t understand. Where’s Godfrey?”

        “They are the daughters and sons of Narani from the giant spiders island,” said a man with a beard in a WWII uniform. A ghost dog barked silently at his feet.

        “Of course,” Liz said. But it was too much for her and she gulped, all at once, the remaining fifteen jewels of condensed information floating in her cocktail. She shoved the glass in the maid’s hands and said: “Bring me another,” before she collapsed under the afflux of so much knowledge.

        #4569

        Elizabeth was even more impressed when the Obviously Intelligent Daily Comment Generator mentioned something very similar to Alice’s cookies .
        She was delighted to see that Sanso was one of the early arrivals to the garden party, and that he’d brought with him a rag tag assortment of strapping young Arduino time hackers.

        And who was that following then? Hypatia ~ and someone else. Could it be Galatea? Liz clapped her hands delightedly. What a party this was going to be!

        Finnley bustled past with her arms full of colourful bed linen, muttering under her breath.

        “Would you like me to write that the French maids arrive next Finnely, perhaps they’d give you a hand with that….I’ve forgotten their names though ~ Mirabelle?”

        Liz scratched her head, perplexed. Suddenly it came to her along with the sounds of a carriage approaching with a deafening clatter of hooves. “Adeline and Fanella, of course!” she exclaimed.

        The horses snorted as they were reined in to a halt an the front entrance. A young woman in what appeared to be a fancy dress costume descended from the carriage.

        “I ‘ave come to ‘elp Finnley wiz ze bedding!”

        #4561
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          Liz, who had been out in the garden, waxing lyrical about the glorious sun for this time of year, the colours of the flowers and at the same time regaling Roberto with tales of the places she had been, paled when she noticed Paul Anna writing notes into his phone.

          She stopped dead in her tracks.

          “It’s that powerful journalist, Paul Anna! I can’t possibly do an interview now!” she hissed at Roberto, “I’ve not even unpacked my case … I don’t have any clean clothes! Where is that maid .. what’s her name … Glynis? Oh no, that’s not right. Ah, Finnley!”

          Liz looked frantically around.

          “Here I am. All ears, as per usual,” said Finnley.

          “Finnley!” Liz hissed. “It’s time to do some work for a change. Get me out of this interview and make no bones about it!”

          “Oh okay, If i must,” said Finnley. She had been looking forward to the interview. She well remembered the last interview when Inspector Olliver had come to question Liz over the missing maid in the suitcase misadventure. Most entertaining.

          She cleared her throat dramatically. “Oh Madam Liz!” she said loudly. “Your Great Aunt Lottie is on the phone and it’s very urgent indeed.”

          #4449
          ÉricÉric
          Keymaster

            “Speaking of green stuff, what’s with Roberto and his new green mohican?” whispered Godfrey conspiratorially to Liz. He kinds of look just like a Mary river turtle now… Only with less moss around the nose…”
            “I think it’s one of Finnley’s idea of a practical joke… She may have suggested that it would look cute on him.”
            Godfrey paused, considering the thought. “Well, that for sure would make it nicely into your new book, Liz’,” he said pointedly.

            “A new book?” Finnley couldn’t help but overhear, and had faked the loveliest enticed look on her face.

            Liz’, who wasn’t one to be fazed by the rumbustious maid quickly snapped back “Yes, it’ll start in the most unexpected manner you see. With an ending.”

            #4427
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              “Oh, rrrrrrright. So now somebody wants to conferrrrr with me,” said Finnley petulantly, clearly still galled about the key fiasco. Not to mention the small-maid-in-the-large-trunk fiasco.

              “Oh okay! I’ll confer,” she conceded quickly as Roberto started to wander off again.

              #4418
              ÉricÉric
              Keymaster

                “Hold right there!”

                Liz’ looked over her shoulder to see the too familiar trenchcoat of Walter.

                “Blimey! What are you doing here, lurking in the dark, you gave me a mighty fright!”

                “It’s the Good Thoughts Police! Freeze your pen right where you are! We had our eyes on you ever since you started introduce all the queer characters!”

                “What do mean, silly goose. All my characters have been queer, and I mean that as a compliment!”

                “Shush now! Blatant racism, and hints of sexism and female coercion, you can’t deny that now! Black on white -err, I mean… Look at what you’ve done to the poor maid! You better write this off before the rest of the Political Correct Bureau is sending the cavalry!”

                #4414
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  “Not so fast, Anna” said Finnley, intercepting the maid as she left Godfrey’s room. Just as Roberto had suggested, the back door was indeed unlocked. “I think you have had far too much time on this thread!” And without further ado, Finnley stuffed the protesting maid back into the large trunk.
                  “Good thing you are so small. You should be fine in there, I think, and I’ve popped in some food and water for your trip too.”
                  I am so much kinder than she deserves, thought Finnley proudly.
                  “Please, Miss Finnley! This is not honourable of you. Please revert me to the outside of the trunk at once!”

                  #4410
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    “Unhand me, you insubordinate wench!” cried Liz. “How very dare you manhandle me like that!” Liz struggled weakly to free herself of Anna’s vice like grip on her arm.

                    “Godfrey told me to make sure you stayed in bed,” the new maid hissed, “So you don’t spread your germs to the rest of us. Please,” she started wheedling, “Come back to bed like a good girl.”

                    Liz sputtered in rage, her face turning an alarming shade of puce. “How dare….” she started, and then doubled over. “Take me to the lavatory this instant!”

                    #4408
                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      “My key won’t work! Let me in!” shouted Finnley, banging loudly on Liz’s front door.

                      She saw a slight movement at the dining room window and spun around, just in time to see the new maid’s face furtively disappearing behind the curtain.

                      And then, with a shock of horror, Finnley realised what must have occurred.

                      “That stupid girl can’t even cook toast! You can’t just discard me after all these years of faithful and devoted service. Goddamit let me in!

                      “And,” she added loudly, “there is dust!” Finnley spat the word dust with great emphasis and contempt in her tone. “I saw it. I saw it when the curtain moved!”

                      “Well,” she said eventually, “I’m not one to stay where I am not wanted!” And just as she was about to turn away, somewhat huffily, the front door opened an inch. And then stopped.

                      “Finnley Finnley! is that you?” hissed Liz croakily from behind the crack.

                      “Liz? “

                      “Finnley, thank goodness! You’ve got to help me! I’m sick as a dog and Godfrey is no good … he is completely under the spell of that awful new … “

                      Suddenly, the door slammed shut.

                      #4404
                      Jib
                      Participant

                        Liz left her bed at 8:30am, wearing only her pink and blue doubled cotton night gown, a perfect hair and her fluffy pink blue mules. She had been thinking about her characters while the sun was trying to rise with great difficulty. Liz couldn’t blame the Sun as temperatures had dropped dramatically since the beginning of winter and the air outside was really cold.

                        When Liz was thinking about her writings and her characters, she usually felt hungry. Someone had told her once that the brain was a hungry organ and that you needed fuel to make it work properly. She didn’t have a sweet tooth, but she wouldn’t say no to some cheesy toast, any time of the day.

                        She had heard some noise coming from the kitchen, certainly Finnley doing who knows what, although certainly not cleaning. It might be the association between thinking about her characters and the noise in the kitchen that triggered her sudden craving for a melted slice of cheese on top of a perfectly burnished toast. The idea sufficed to make her stomach growl.

                        She chuckled as she thought of inventing a new genre, the toast opera. Or was it a cackle?

                        As she was lost in her morning musings, her mules gave that muffled slippery sound on the floor that Finnley found so unladylike. Liz didn’t care, she even deliberately slowed her pace. The slippery sound took on another dimension, extended and stretched to the limit of what was bearable even for herself. Liz grinned, thinking about Finnley’s slight twitching right eye as she certainly was trying to keep her composure in the kitchen.

                        Liz, all cheerful, was testing the differences between a chuckle and a cackle when she entered the kitchen. She was about to ask Finnley what she thought about it when she saw a small person in a yellow tunic and green pants, washing the dishes.

                        Liz stopped right there, forgetting all about chuckles and cackles and even toasts.

                        “Where is Finnley?” she asked, not wanting to appear the least surprised. The small person turned her head toward Liz, still managing to keep on washing the dishes. It was a girl, obviously from India.

                        “Good morning, Ma’am. I’m Anna, the new maid only.”

                        “The new… maid?”

                        Liz suddenly felt panic crawling behind her perfectly still face. She didn’t want to think about the implications.

                        “Why don’t you use the dishwasher?” she asked, proud that she could keep the control of her voice despite her hunger, her questions about chuckles and cackles, and…

                        “The dirty dishes are very less, there is no need to use the dishwasher only.”

                        Liz looked at her bobbing her head sideways as if the spring had been mounted the wrong way.

                        “Are you alright?” asked Anna with a worried look.

                        “Of course, dear. Make me a toast with a slice of cheese will you?”

                        “How do I do that?”

                        “Well you take the toaster and you put the slice of bread inside and pushed the lever down… Have you never prepared toasts before?”

                        “No, but yes, but I need to know how you like it only. I want to make it perfect for your liking, otherwise you won’t be satisfied.” The maid suddenly looked lost and anxious.

                        “Just do as you usually do,” said Liz. “Goddfrey?” she called, leaving the kitchen before the maid could ask anymore questions.

                        Where was Goddfrey when she needed him to explain everything?

                        “You need me?” asked a voice behind her. He had appeared from nowhere, as if he could walk through the walls or teleport. Anyway, she never thought she would be so relieved to see him.

                        “What’s that in the kitchen?”

                        “What’s what? Oh! You mean her. The new maid.”

                        He knew! Liz felt a strange blend of frustration, despair and anger. She took mental note to remember it for her next chapter, and came back to her emotional turmoil. Was she the only one unaware of such a bit change in her home?

                        “Well, she followed us when we were in India. We don’t know how, but she managed to find a place in one of your trunks. Finnley found her as she had the porter unpacked the load. It seems she wants to help.”

                        #4384
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          “What we all need now”, Liz was thinking out loud, “Is a more relaxed approach. We should stop trying to be proper clever writers and just blather.”

                          “If it’s supposed to be relaxed blather, why did you just fix three typo’s?” asked Finnley, the annoying maid, who had once again been peering over Elizabeth’s shoulder, looking for something to find fault with.

                          “Oh come on, that’s a bit much, Liz!” Finnley retorted, accidentally on purpose slopping Liz’s tea into her ashtray, knowing a pet hate of hers was a wet ashtray.

                          “Do be careful, Finnely! snapped Liz.

                          “Just taking a relaxed approach to being a maid, Ma’am,” she replied rudely with a flamboyant gesture with her feather duster, which whacked Liz smartly across the back of the head as she swanned out of the room with her nose in the air.

                          #4369
                          Jib
                          Participant

                            The door bell rang and Finnley left Liz confused by the present the maid had brought her from Bali. It was the statue of a man in a strange position. Liz had no clue what he was doing, but the statue was so big she could imaging using it as a stool with small silk cushion to make it more comfortable. It was made of wood. Liz touched the head of the statue and felt a momentary lapse.

                            “hum!”
                            Liz started. “Oh you’re back”, she said to Finnley with a smile. Finnley looked at her suspiciously.

                            “Did you take something while I was answering at the door?”

                            “Oh! right the door. Who was that?”

                            “Journalists. They are here for the documentary movie.”

                            The fleeting state of bliss was gone. “Journalists? For me?”

                            “For who else?” asked Finnley, raising her eyes. “Godfrey?”

                            #4366
                            ÉricÉric
                            Keymaster

                              It’s all a bit quiet there, where have they all gone again? One could hear plants growing in that silence.

                              “Finnley!” she shouted across the mansion, pondering at what demoniac activity the maid was devoted recently.

                              She hadn’t seen the maid in the all of the week, but somehow they had been communicating in a sort of eerie telepathic way, by subtle positions of objects in the house. A piece of clothe in this or that position would mean, please wash it hasta pronto, but if it was slightly above ground, she somehow would get it was meant to be just folded for another use. There had been a silent tug of war as to where the towel would dry, as she didn’t like it to be in the humid bathroom. And for every lunch, she would find something prepared in the fridge, ready to be heated in the microwave oven.

                              But she had to tell her, that was enough with chicken and grilled aubergines. A little variety would go a long way…

                              #4345
                              TracyTracy
                              Participant

                                “Finnley, go and tell Roberto to bring the ladder. I can’t possibly climb up through that trap door with those rickety steps, I want a proper ladder. And proper gardener to hold it steady. I wouldn’t trust any of you lot,” she said, glaring at them each in turn.

                                Finnley made a rude sign behind Elizabeth’s back, and clumped back down the stairs. Increasingly heated bickering between Liz and the Inspector ensued. Godfrey wandered off down the hallway tutting and shaking his head, and then darted into a spare bedroom and fell sound asleep on the bed.

                                Expecting a tongue lashing from Liz for being so long, Finnley was surprised that nobody noticed her return. She cleared her throat a few times trying to get their attention.

                                “Go and get yourself a spoonful of honey and stop making that ghastly croaking noise, Finnley!”

                                “The thing is, Liz,” replied the maid, “He’s gone.”

                                “Who?”

                                Exasperated, Finnley’s voice rose to an alarming falsetto. “The gardener! Roberto! He’s gone, and what’s more, he’s taken the sack with him!”

                                “Do get a grip, Finnley, he’s probably just taking the rubbish out. Now then, Walter, if you think I’ve forgiven you for that day when you….he’s taken what? What did you say?”

                                Elizabeth blanched, waving her arms around wildly as if she was drowning.

                                “I know a good gardener who’s looking for a job,” the Inspector said helpfully.

                                “You utter fool!” Elizabeth rounded on him. “My babies have been stolen and you talk about gardening! Never mind that German, or whatever it was you said you’re doing here, go and catch that thief!”

                                Raising an eyebrow, Finnley wondered if this was just another fiasco, or was it really a cleverly engineered plot?

                                #4331

                                “What was in the bag, Finnley, tell us!”
                                Everyone was looking at the maid after the Inspector had left hurriedly, under the pretext of taking care of a tip he had received on the disappearance of the German girl.

                                Godfrey was the most curious in fact. He couldn’t believe in the facade of meanness that Finnley carefully wrapped herself into. The way she cared about the animals around the house was a testimony to her well hidden sweetness. Most of all, he thought herself incapable of harming another being.
                                But he had been surprised before. Like when Liz’ had finished a novel, long ago.

                                “Alright, I’ll show you. Stay there, you lot of accomplices.”

                                Godfrey looked at Liz’ sideways, who was distracted anyway by the gardener, who was looking at the nearby closet.

                                “Liz’, will you focus please! The mystery is about to be revealed!”

                                “Oh shut up, Godfrey, there’s no mystery at all. I’ve known for a while what that dastardly maid had done. I’ve been onto her for weeks!”
                                “Really?”
                                “Oh, don’t you give me that look. I’m not as incapable as you think, and that bloodshot-eyes stupor I affect is only to keep annoyances away. Like my dear mother, if you remember.”
                                “So tell us, if you’re so smart now. In case it’s really a corpse, at least, we may all be prepared for the unwrapping!”
                                “A CORPSE! Ahaha, you fool Godfrey. It’s not A corpse! It’s MANY CORPSES!”

                                Godfrey really thought for a second that she had completely lost it. Again. He would have to call the nearby sanatorium, make up excuses for the next signing session at the library, and cancel all future public appear…

                                “Will you stop that! I know what you’re doing, you bloody control machine! Stop that thinking of yours, I can’t even hear myself thinking nowadays for all your bloody thinking. Now, as I was saying of course she’d been hiding all the corpses!”
                                “Are you insane, Liz’ —at least keep your voice down…”
                                “Don’t be such a sourdough Godfrey, you’re sour, and sticky and all full of gas. JUST LET ME EXPLAIN, for Lemone’s sake!”

                                Godfrey fell silent for a moment, eyeing a lost peanut left on a shelf nearby.

                                Conscious of the unfair competition for Godfrey’s attention Elizabeth blurted it all in one sentence:
                                “She’s been collecting them, my old failed stories, the dead drafts and old discarded versions of them. Hundreds of characters, those little things, I’d given so many cute little names, but they had no bones or shape, and very little personality, I had to smother them to death.” She started sobbing uncontrollably.

                                That was then that Finnley came back in the room, panting and dragging the sack coated in dirt inside the room, and seeing the discomfit Liz’ with smeared make-up all over her eyes.

                                “Oh, bloody hell. Don’t you tell me I brought that dirty bag of scraps up for nothing!”

                                She left there, running for the door screaming “I’m not doing the carpets again!”

                                And closed the door with a sonorous “BUGGER!”

                                #4322
                                ÉricÉric
                                Keymaster

                                  It didn’t take much time for Godfrey to figure out that Walter may have been one of the missing husbands of Liz. She’d been always rather discreet about the total number of her past marriages, and she wasn’t very good at keeping archives either, so it was mostly guesswork from his part, but some signs were unmistakable, such as the spellbound speechless face on Liz’ and Walter.
                                  Frozen in time as they were, Godfrey could probably say anything, without fear of breaking that spell.

                                  “Well, that is rather awkward, Inspector.” Godfrey said, dropping the empty peanut butter jar into Finnley’s hands before she could make her escape for the sideway door.
                                  “Weren’t we all worried sick about that poor child since she left hurriedly from the mansion.”
                                  He felt compelled to add “our dear maid Finnley the most, I believe. She had all her belongings stacked in a safe place, for when she would return. Isn’t it, Finnley? That would surely help the Inspector if you could fetch those in the garden, wouldn’t it Inspector.”

                                  #4313
                                  ÉricÉric
                                  Keymaster

                                    “I had the most awful nightmare”

                                    Godfrey was taking his morning ginger tea, and talking to himself as usual, although it may have seem he was taking to the new gardener who had come inside for a glass of lemonade. The gardener raised his head, not sure what to answer.

                                    “The neighbour had left corpses in front of the house, and I had to bury them so people wouldn’t think we’d killed them. It was night, but then I realized it was our dear friends, one had lost an arm even. I then realized they were after the money, and has simply settled there in their place. And then I woke up wondering why is that I hadn’t just called the police instead of making it more of a mess than it was.”

                                    The gardener was still at the door, unsure if the pause meant he could finally go outside.

                                    “Truth is, by burying the corpses, I not only became complicit, but also probably made the murderer’s work easier…”

                                    “I’m sorry Sir, but I have to go back to work now,” the gardener finally said rather awkwardly. “Your bossy maid has ordered me to bury a rather large sack in the garden. I can’t let it sit in the sun like that.”

                                    Godfrey looked at the gardener in mute horror.

                                    #4233

                                    By the following spring, Trustinghampton had fifty seven inhabitants. Under the leadership of Leroway, all had comfortable homes and enough to eat. There were numerous workshops, a bakery and communal brick oven, vegetable gardens and a traveling scavenging team with a mule cart. It was Lobbocks who had suggested a distillery: what we need now is a pub, he’d said. Somewhere to party.

                                    And that is how Leroway became the Lord Mayor. When the first spirits and wines were ready, the villagers held a party. The scavengers had found, among other things including additional wines and spirits and party drug stashes, a vast collection of clothing of all kinds, and so they had a fancy dress party. For fun they had a competiton of the best costumes, and Leroway and Jolly won, with their royal robes and tiara crowns. Eleri won second prize for her fetching maids outfit.

                                    Lest anyone be confused as to the nature of the workings of the village, there was no hierarchy and no laws. It was a mutual cooperation under the obvious and natural leadership of Leroway. The villagers were fond of him and grateful for the part he played, and Jolly was popular with everyone. The First Party was such a success and everyone loved their costumes so much that they continued to wear them, and play the parts. Thus, Leroway and Jolly became Lord Mayor and Lady Teacake, and Eleri played the part of their maid, although nobody was dictating to anyone else as it was just a game.

                                    It was the maids outfit that led Leroway astray. Try as he might, for he was devoted to his wife, he couldn’t subdue the flames rising in his purple clad loins. Eleri deftly avoided him as best she could, for she too was devoted to her friend Jolly. Had she fancied Leroway at all, she might have considered approaching Jolly with a view to an amicable ménage à trois, but the fact was, she didn’t. She had eyes for the latest arrival, the mysterious Mr Minn.

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