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Ted Anthony Roberts

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Adventures of Le Marquis D'Iddelly du Squatt
By Ted Anthony Roberts
Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Rated "G" by the Author.

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A Swashbuckling Comedy
by: Ted Anthony Roberts

If there is any resemblance of any fictional characters in this story to any persons living or dead - THEN IT IS A MIRACLE!

Europe, mid-1700's, the time of swashbuckling heroes!

And here is a short description of our hero:

A swashbuckler;
Having the soul of a poet;
A figure of romance;
A man of iron;
A great lover of women;
And an all around good fellow -

And this is just exactly how he imagined himself to be at breakfast this morning!

But, what is he like, really?

Well, friends, this remains to be seen . . . .

After reading this, you may want to read a real story to get your brain functioning once again!

Chapter 1

Let us introduce the Marquis


"Your majesties," said a heavy-set man, who is in his mid-forties, "allow me to introduce to you the famous Marquis D’Iddelly du Squatt."


A skinny, tall, and lanky man bows low to their majesties.


"So," said the king, with a large grin, "this is the Marquis that I keep hearing about - extraordinary! Not at all what I was expecting, considering your reputation and all . . . . They say that you are a Frenchman."


"Exactly so, your majesty." said the Marquis, in consent.


"But how can this be?" asked the queen, a bit confused. "Your name ends with the title of Squatt. Is that not an English name?"


"Quite so, your majesty." confirmed the Marquis, in a dignified tone. "D’Iddelly is actually my maiden name."


"What!" their majesties exclaimed in sequence.


"It's true ." he continued, with his nonchalant air. "When I married, I took on my wife's name - she being a Marquise and all."


"Oh." said her majesty, a bit wide-eyed.


"And who is this lovely young lady that you are with?" asked the king, in a suave manner, and while grabbing the hand of a very beautiful young woman who was standing next to the Marquis.


"This is my sister-in-law." D’Iddelly proudly pronounced, while the king kissed her hand tenderly. "Madame du Squatt."


"Did you say Pott?" asked the king, who had just straightened himself back up from his hand kissing.


"No, sire; I said Squatt. But she does often squat on the pot - Ha! Ha! . . . ouch!" he yelled in slight pain, as Madame du Squatt elbowed him in the ribs, while she displayed grievous expressions upon her face toward him.


Trying to ignore the strange comment, the king then introduced someone near his right hand.


“This is the Duke of Merit." he announced to D’Iddelly.


"Ah – Dookey!" said the Marquis, enthusiastically bowing.


The Duke began to bow also, but after hearing his title being expressed as ‘Dookey,’ he began to eye the Marquis with slight contempt!


"And this is the Duke's daughter - Elizabeth." said the king, with his continued introductions, and while pointing out a young girl who was standing near the Duke.


"Ah!" cried the Marquis, at seeing the lovely young lady, and while advancing happily toward her - in a seemingly quick manner, while replying: "It would seem that the Dookey has a Dookette!" He then, after scaring her a bit with his fast approach, grabbed her hand (trying very desperately to copy the example that was just made by the king), and he then proceeded to kiss it. But just as his lips advance toward the lovely, ivory-smooth hand, his head whips toward it so fast, that as soon as his kiss is being delivered, a large white cloud of smoke suddenly issued forth from his wig, and landed directly upon the young girl's surprised face – which then caused her to appear as white as a ghost! As if her ivory skin was not white enough, this new look surely caused her to look as if she had just come out of a violent snow storm!


She can say nothing, but her mouth dropped wide open, and her eyes bulged to their full extent.


"My dear," said the Marquis to her, in an undertone, after seeing her extremely white face – which was covered with whatever issued off from his wig, "please allow me to point out to you that it may be best not to use so much powder on your face the next time you're doing your toilet. It may help your looks a little better."


"Marquis!" yelled the queen, in exasperation. "I think that you have used a little too much powder on your wig."


"I have no idea what you are talking about, your majesty." he said, looking at her with has calm manner. "I have no powder on my wig."


At this, the small assembly fell silent.


"I hear, sir," said the Duke of Merit to the Marquis, "that you are quiet an extraordinary fencer."

"Who, sir?" asked D’Iddelly, while he knitted his brows in slight confusion.


"Why, you, sir." answered the Duke, in a bit of a harsh manner.


"Me, sir?"


"You, sir."


"No, sir."


"Yes, sir."


"I see, sir . . . . Who was that you said, sir?"


"Why, you, sir."


"You addressed me, sir?"


"You, sir."


"Me, sir?"


"Yes, you, sir."


"I don't think so, sir."


"Yes, sir."


"No, sir."


"’Tis true , sir."


"You don't say, sir."


"I do, sir."


"I see, sir."


"And accept, sir?"


A moment of silence.


"Accept what, sir?" asked the Marquis, being more confused by each passing sentence!


"That it is true , sir."


"True about whom, sir?"


"That it is true about you, sir."


"Who, me, sir?"


"Yes, you, sir."


"Me? For what, sir?"


"For what we are discussing, sir."


"Oh, I see, sir."


"Finally accept, sir?"


"Yes, sir."


"GREAT!, sir."


Another moment of silence.


"I accept what, sir?"


And yet another moment of silence.


"Oh - never mind, sir!"


"Very well, sir."


The king broke into the conversation: "Yes, Marquis, we have all heard what a great fencer that you are."


"Oh – Fencer!” shouted D’Iddelly, “Is that what the Dookey has been talking about?" he added, while he rolled his eyes about. Then he turned to the Duke with a slight frown: "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"


The Duke said not a word, but began to bite the end of his moustache with his teeth, trying his best to keep his anger in check.


"Yes, a fencer!" shouted D’Iddelly, having placed both his hands upon his sides, in a swaggering manner. "I must admit, Dookey, I have a fair hand at it!"


"You're too modest, sir." said the Queen, whipping out her delicate fan, for both heat and fashion. "We have heard,” she continued, being addressed to the Marquis, “that you are the best fencer in all of Europe - perhaps in the entire world!"


"Well, I wouldn't go that far!” he chuckled. “But, maybe in Europe . . . . Oh, alright!" he added, with a burst of his lungs, having caught the attention of everyone in the entire ballroom. “I guess that I will go that far . . . . But, perhaps, it would be best if you did, Queeny. After all, you being royalty, if you’d tell all these kind folks about how wonderful I am, then it will save me the trouble of placing sale bills all over your kingdom!”


"And perhaps you would like to demonstrate with me, sir?" said the Duke of Merit, quite to the point of impatience.


"What, now?" asked the Marquis, in complete surprise.


"Unless you are afraid!"


"Afraid of fencing? You cannot be serious, Dookey. Why, I have fenced hundreds of times!"


"Hundreds?" asked the Duke, a bit wide-eyed.


"Give or take a couple hundred."


"Then you must indeed be good."


"Well," said the Marquis, grinning, while shaking his head proudly, "I cannot complain."


The Duke seemed a bit hesitant.


The Marquis began whispering into his sister-in-law's ear: "I cannot believe that these people are making such a big deal about putting up a few fences. I have been building fences for happy homes for many years."


"Be easy with them, Marquis," Madame du Squatt whispered back to him, "they are city-folk, what do they know?"

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Reviewed by Randy Stensaas 12/19/2009
great story. City folk have no idea of red neck fencing. Good thing there are good country folk around to help them.

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