More lad

Warning: I haven't seen the following story since I wrote it five years ago, and I can't be bothered to read it now either. Still, it should be quite the adventure.

“Good morning Joshua.”
“Hi Mrs. Thench.”
“Are you doing anything constructive today Joshua?”
“Oh, definitely no, Mrs. Thench.”
“Please, call me Tulip.”
“Whatever floats your boat, Tulip.”
“So anyway Joshua, why are you wasting your day?”
“Who says I’m wasting my day?”
“Well, if you’re not doing anything constructive it means that you’re wasting your day, doesn’t it Joshua?”
“Not necessarily Tulip.”
“Under what extenuating circumstances could you claim exemption from wastefulness?”
“Well, I am practicing my conversational skills, aren’t I?”
“Good point, Joshua. In that case though, why did you say that you weren’t doing anything constructive ?”
“Oh, just so that I could keep up the conversation.”
“Very noble of you, Joshua.”
“Oh, of course, Tulip. By the way, how’s Mr. Thench?”
“Oh, Rhododendron? He’s doing just peachily. Or floweringly might be more apt.” The silly woman giggles
“Well, ain’t that just too nice Tulip. Glad to hear your relationship is still so rosy. Encountered any thorns lately, though?”
“Well, now that you mention it, Joshua, we did have a slight problem a short while ago. Though I don’t know if I should mention it. Rhododendron probably wouldn’t like it.”
“Who cares about Rhododendron!”
“Well! I certainly do.”
“Well, I certainly don’t. The man is a stuck up prig. Plus, he likes chopped liver.”
“What’s wrong with chopped liver, or, for that matter, stuck up prigs?”
“They’re bad for the digestion.”
“Who, the liver, or the prigs?”
“Both.”
“That’s a nice thing to say about someone’s husband.”
“Glad you enjoyed it.”
“But really, what do you mean by talking in this most revolting manner?”
“Why? You don’t like it? Too bad.”
“No, it is definitely not too bad. I think I shall write to your most excellent mother. With her censure you should be slightly more normal.”
“That’s not bloody likely.”
“And that, Joshua, is exactly what I feared.”
The next day...
“Good morning sunshine, oh my sunshine, you make me haaappppyyyy, when the skies are gray, you always think that, you are so superior, so you always eat a, blue jay.”
“Beautiful sir, just a true work of brilliant genius. High art is what I call it. The unconscience desire to break these shackled bonds that hold you to the earth and you rise higher and higher to the great challenge awaiting all in the sky.”
“What rubbish you speak, Chandler.”
“Very good, sir.”
Note here folks, Chandler is Joshua’s butler. He sometimes gets carried away though.
“So Chandler, what’s for brekkie?”
“Brekkie sir?”
“Oh, don’t be a fool, Chandler. You know, breakfast: bacon, eggs, pancakes, cherry blintzes, waffles, butter on toast, plenty of hot and strong coffee, perhaps a cup of tea, a glass of milk, a muffin for afters.”
“Sounds rather unhealthy, sir.”
“No one asked you if it was meant to be healthy, Chandler, I just asked you to make it.”
“With what?”
“I don’t know, Chandler, you’re the cook around here.”
“Very good, sir, but there’s no food.”
“So go and buy some. Meanwhile, I await your return with an ever increasing appetite. If you’re not careful, Chandler, I shall starve.”
“That would be most unfortunate, sir. Unfortunately, there is no money to satiate your rather large appetite.”
“Less of the commentary, Chandler, and more of the food. Where exactly did all my money go?”
“You’ve squandered it, sir.”
“What are you talking about, Chandler?”
“Well, you can’t expect to lose all your fortune at the racing track and no feel any effects, sir.”
“I didn’t lose all my money at the track, Chandler. I didn’t even go there!”
“Too bad, sir, you might have enjoyed it.”
“So then what are you talking about? Who lost all their money on the horses?”
“Greyhounds, sir.”
“Well then, greyhounds? Who lost all their money on greyhounds?”
“Me, sir.”
“What!”
“Sorry sir, that was just the bell ringing there. I’ll just answer it.”
A few seconds later... Well, actually, more then just a few. Several, perhaps.
“Sir, your mother, the noted moralitician.”
“The noted what, Chandler?”
“Moralitician, sir. Person who deals with morality.”
“Sounds suspiciously like a mortician, Chandler.”
“Exactly, sir. They have much the same function.”
“Very good, Chandler. You may go now. Yes mother, what can I do for you?”
“Well, I’ve come about that letter from Mrs. Tulip Thench. She seemed very shocked at your behavior.”
“Doesn’t bother me.”
“No, it wouldn’t, would it.”
“So getting to the gist of the matter, mother, you wonder what my side of the story is?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, I’m sure that it’s much the same as she described it to you.”
“So can you explain yourself.”
“Oh, no. Heavens no. What a ghastly thing to think about. Why in the world should I explain myself?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll be forced to punish you.”
“And how would you do that?”
“I would kill you.”
“Well that’s a nice thing to say to someone’s only son!”
“Precisely.”
“Huh?”
“Actually, I think I would force you to do something even worse.”
“No, are you talking about...”
“Yes.”
“No. You wouldn’t punish me like that?’
“O h yeas I would.”
“You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
“Ah.”
“Wasn’t that supposed to be slightly longer?”
“Well, it was, but I couldn’t keep it up very long.”
“Why not?”
“Well, it didn’t strike me as being the done thing.”
“Makes sense.”
“I believe it definitely does.”
“Anyway, you have thirteen seconds before I punish you.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Well Joshua, I want you to explain yourself.”
“But that’s just as bad as ...”
“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it?”
“Besides, if you do that I’ll explain myself anyway?”
Chandler walks into the room.
“Did you call, sir?”
“Yes, thank you for being so prompt. Could you please ask Mrs. Thench to come into the room?”
“Certainly, sir. She will be coming in right now.”
Mr. Tulip Thench walks in several minutes later, announced by Chandler, of course.
“You wanted me, Joshua?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”
“Well then, shoot.”
Quick as a whip, Joshua shoots Mrs. Tulip Thench. She dies. Great mourning. On her coffin they placed some roses. Less poetic that way.
“Well Mr. Rhododendron Thench, I’m very sorry.”
“No, that’s all right Joshua. I was looking for an excuse to marry your mother anyway.”
‘Oh!”
“Any problem?”
“Well, if you could just wait a second.”
“Certainly.”
Not so quick this time, Joshua shoots both Mr. Rhododendron Thench and his mother. They both die. It was a comfort, though, that it was in each other’s arms. Mourning wasn’t so great this time. After all, this time Joshua was paying for the funeral. On the two coffins they placed some roses. In fact, it was the same roses that had been placed on Mrs. Tulip Thench’s coffin. The mortician thought it would be romantic. He was wrong, it was more ironic then anything.
“So all in all, Chandler, a pretty good day. Everyone who needed to got canned. By the way, what in the world were you talking about when you said I had lost all my money gambling on greyhounds?”
“Well, sir, I meant that I had wasted all your money gambling on greyhounds.”
“In that case, Chandler, I shall punish you in the worst possible way that I know of.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“You must continue to work for me.”