PLOT: comedy - not only humorous or farcical, but technically ‘a complex situation that resolves happily’
Several high-ranking members of the community were in the farmyard, enjoying a few drinks and some canapés, which were being served by Butler, the butler. Several women of importance were accompanied by the bank manager and the Chairman of the Board of Governors of the Chamber of Commerce. Two chief executives, five lawyers and a senior Law Enforcement Officer were also present, tucking into the blinis and petit fours.
Meanwhile, the owner of the farm, Hay Ricks, was standing in his bedroom, wearing a shirt and tie, socks and a pair of brightly coloured underpants. He was presently unable to mix and mingle with his vey special guests because, somehow, he had mislaid his trousers. He knew he’d placed them on the end of the bed before he had a shower, but now they were nowhere to be found, and neither were any of his spare pairs. This was a quandary.
‘Well, I am vexed,’ he said aloud. ‘I’ll look again.’
He opened each drawer in the chest of drawers, but could only find a few neatly folded handkerchieves, three pairs of socks and a harlequin’s hat. He opened the door of the hanging cupboard, and looked again at the rows of shirts and jackets; none were long enough to cover his embarrassment. There were also some boots and a pair of dungarees, but they were paint-splattered and not at all suitable for the occasion.
There was a knock at the bedroom door, so Ricks opened it.
‘Master, the guests are ready to receive you,’ chimed the ever-helpful Butler, the butler.
‘Yes, yes, I’ll be there directly.’
‘Very good, sir. Excuse me, sir, but you do realise that your garb is sadly lacking in the trousering department?’
‘Thank you, yes, Butler,’ snapped Ricks, closing the bedroom door.
He opened the door of the wardrobe, to look again amongst the dressing gown (no use), his best suit (sans trousers), an anorak, a few t-shirts (mostly with unsuitable slogans, and all too short to be of any use in this situation) plus a selection of unfashionable tank-top jumpers, several gaudy ties and (ironically) two leather belts.
‘Oh, this is a nuisance!’ he said, and slammed the door shut. He retraced his steps to the bathroom, checking the towel rail as he passed. He knew there was no hope of his trousers being in the airing cupboard, but he was desperate. He opened the door anyway.
Standing in the cupboard, with a broad grin across his ruddy face, was his younger son, Brian.
‘Hallo Dad!’ he said, cheerily.
‘What are you doing in there?’ his father asked.
‘Keeping warm. May I ask you a question?’
‘Yes, if you’re quick. I have to meet my guests.’
‘Why are you not wearing any trousers? You can’t meet your guests dressed like that, can you?’
Hay kept his temper. ‘That’s two questions. My trousers seem to have gone missing.’
‘What are they worth?’
‘Hmm?’ Hay had not been too concerned with the financial value of the missing strides, but knew there would be serious and costly implications if he went out to meet these particular guests inadequately coutured.
‘What would you give me, if I could find them for you?’
Hay had reached the end of his tether, so he made a wild offer. ‘Right now, I would give you – I would give you all of your inheritance.’
‘Deal.’
‘What? Do you know where my trousers are?’
‘Show me the money.’
A few days later, plans were finalized for the transfer of funds from Farmer Ricks to his son. He handed him a big bag of gold coins.
‘Even though you have cleaned me out, I do still hold you dear, you know, son.’
‘Those local dignatories would have been horrified to see you in your underpants, don’t you think?’
‘Taunt me no more, please. I have one more gift for you, my dear boy. Please take this ring, and wear it and think kindly of me when you are away from home.’
Brian accepted the precious, meaningful gift, placed it on his finger and embraced his father. ‘You understand that I have to do this, don’t you?’
‘Not at all. But if go you must, then be that as it may.’
Brian made his way from the farm and journeyed over hill and valley to Dissipation City.
Once he’d arrived and settled into an hotel room, he went out to find some ways to dispose of a small amount of his wealth, and quickly discovered more than a couple of opportunities.
He started with a grand meal, in Fivestar, a fine dining restaurant. This was owned by a man named Frayn, who had always dreamed of leaving the service industry and making his living on a farm, tending cattle and other livestock. But for now he continued to work at the Fivestar.
Brian’s spree continued with a spell in a casino, and then on to a theatre, accompanied by a few friends who had been drawn to him in the course of his adventures so far.
Prime among these companions was Rochelle, a beauty with long blonde hair and mischievous eyes. ‘We could always have a little drinkie if you like…’ she said, hinting at something else that might follow.
to be concluded
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