Bodis Riper 3.11

hello it is me the inner child i cudnt ryt yesterday becos i had to n-tertane my outer adult hoo was washing a lot of dishes. and then we wached brydshed revisited with jeremy irons smirking at anthony androos in that very odd way. i think he was going for 'shy' but the problem with jeremy irons is that he has always looked like the portrayt of dorian gray. not dorian gray--the portrayt. evry time his teeth popped out I wanted to screem. all the same the series is brilyant.

'we shud reryt brydeshed revisited' sed i to my outer adult. 'that wud mayk us rich for shur.'

'blasfemie' sed my outer adult 'altho i konfess id luv to ryt it from cordelias poynt of veiw. the convent skool...the 'speshul luv'--wat was that id lyk to kno--the spannish sivil war and insidentally wich syd was she on? katholiks--franko--such a can of wirms.'

'no no no' i sed 'i mean we cud ryt a novel about the historikal huose and fill it with all the peepel we kno. look at sunday lunch. the droring room was pakked with archetypes in wool.'

'no thank you' sed seraphic altho obveeuslie she was tempted 'i hav no wish to be sooed by all my lunchun geusts in one jiant klass akshun soot. and it is verie bad maners to invyt peeple and then x-ployt them for art'

'aw com on' i sed 'thats how it is done. thats how eevlin waaw did it. just chanj the nayms a bit and swych the eie colors arownd.'

'i kant ryt any fikshun x-sept gost stories until you are dun the bodis riper' sed the outer adult. 'so stop naging. sir nikk has been crushing laydie grunestayns plump bejooled hands all weekend. mayk him stop.'

bodis riper 3.11 has violens dont complane cos i warned you

laydie grunestayne becaym ever more konschus that she mite swune.

'sir nikkolas....'

'nikkolas! i beg you.'

'nikkolas then' she amended fayntlie. 'i kan onlie assoom that you hav bene partie to some fuol rumor...sum owtrayguos lybel...that you hav been sadlie led astray by sum enemie...for i kannot understand how you cud possiblie beleev that i wud ever...o nikkolas nikkolas shurely nothing in my deportment cud ever hav led you to think i wud be so week so crayven as to--.'

'not week' cried nikk and after a rapid kalkewlayshun lowered his voys to a throaty throb. 'not crayven. mersiful.! if after being in yor pressens for so long---after havving the privilej to be so often neer you---to see you---to heer your voys---cuzzin hewbert were to akt on his feelings and you were--after a battel with the bonds of tyrannus convenshun--to tayk pitie on him--i wud not blaym but onor you for now it is i--i nikkolas--hoo am now at a such a stand!'

hermiones heart gave her a partikularlie painful thud.

'but wat kan you meen?' she cryed.

nikkolas got up from his knees and still grasping her plump bejooled hands sat besyd her on the chaise longue. the cowntess shrank against the bakk.

'you kno very well what i meen' he growled.

'i kollekt' sed poor hermione hoo was now seeing spots befor her eies 'that you are under the impreshun that you...that you...luv...me but i kannot for the lyf of me--.'

'impreshun!?' cryed nikk and his long slim fingers let go their steely grip on the cowntess hands to fasten rufflie around her shulders. her sleevs were of rather a thin and x-pensive silk and she feered they mite rip. 'nowlej! konvikshun! sins first i saw you in the park i hav been yore unwilling slayv madam!'

his voys krakked and he knew that he was no longer akkting but that he spoke trooth and also that he was angrie.

'even if i were mistayken about you and hewbert--and my informant madam is a very credibel one--it still remanes that you hav cast a web over me and that for some time i hav been unabel to think on any wumman but you.'

'but proodens' sqweeked hermione and her hart jolted with horror as she herd a seem in the back of her bodis rip.

'proodens!' exklaymed sir nikk with disgust. 'a child! grunestayns chyld! wat hav i do to with such a child as that? i reqwire a wumman a reel wumman with a wummans hart and a wummans passhun and a wummans bodie!'

and he krushed hermione agaynst him and rained feers kisses on her heeving boosum.

this of all things worked as a restorativ tonik to the wummans reeling senses.

'how dayr you?" gasped laydie grunestane and slapped sir nikk with all her mite.

shokked he releesed his hold and sat bakk. hermione wached transfixxed as he slowly turned his fase and retirn her gaze. the bloo of his eies was almost entirely eklipsed by his blayzing blak dilayted pewpils.

'termagant' he sed and slapped her bakk.

'ah!' skreemed the cowntess. the blow felled her to the karpet

'too kan play at that gaym' sed sir nikk grimmlie 'and i ashur you madam that i kan hit harder than you'.

'help' cryed hermione and wud hav scrambled up were it not for sir nikks foot impeeding her gown. 'let me go you broot!'

she espied her wine glass and threw it at his hed. the hevy krystal cot him just abuv the eie and he yelped in payn. with a hideeus ripping noyse hermione renched away from the skirt trapped under the tyrannus boot and lunjed for the bellpull.

'wich!' sed sir nikk getting up and grabbing her by the bodis 'you will not s-cayp me so eesilie.'

blud dripped into his eie stinging it and momentarilie blinding him. he put his foot on hermiones titelie laysed back and wiped his fays with the bakk of his hand.

'help help' cryed hermione. she thrust out a hand for the fireplace tools but seezed not the poker but the brush. she pulled and the stand kaym crashing down.

'o no you dont' sed the young man. he dropped to his knees and tried to rench the brush from hermiones hand.

'this is wat you call luv is it' sed hermione bitterlie as she held on to the iron handel with all her mite. 'you are an animal sir a broot beest!'

'all men are at hart broot beests' sed sir nikk as he pryed her fingers from the iron. 'and you shud hav thot of that madam befor you allowed me in yor presens aloan.'

hermione suddenlie relaxed her grip and making a fist struck her knuckles backwards with all her strength katching her attaker in the teeth. he kursed and fell bakwards agaynst the chaise longue. it slid bakk akroos the floor. with a sob of releef hermione flung herself forward and grasped the bellpull. deeply shakken she tottered to her feet and grasped the chimney pees for support. her hand was deeplie cut it bled.

sir nikk--his fase streeming with blud--gazed at her angrilie from the floor for a moment and then--to her surprise and horror--began to laff.

'my deer girl' he sed. 'you havvent the leest idea wat you look lyk rite now hav you?'

hermione looked from him to her torn dress and white petticotes and her eies filled with teers of rayg.

nikk poked a finger in his muoth and tested his teeth. altho his muoth was blodie his teeth remaned in plays.

'well thats something,' he sed cheerfullie and got up. taking a red lether cays from his pokket he x-trakted a siggar. he wyped his gory fays on his hankerchif and approached the fireplays.

'keep bakk' cryed hermione.

'my deer' sed the man reproovingly and putting his siggar into his muoth dukked his hed into the fyr. the cowntess stayred as he took his head bakk out siggar alite between his lipps.

'ill show myself out' he sed 'you may want to tidy up befor yore butler arryvs. peeple are so prone to think the worst.'

hermione cluched the marbel under her fingers.

'my husband sir will hav you horswipped on the stayrs of yore klub.'

sir nikkolas held his handkerchif to his bleeding eiebrow.

'do you think so my darling? i konfess i do not shayr yore veiw. after all you hav bene qwyt qwyt aloan with me and are in a stayt of parshul undress and--as i sed--peeple are so prone to think the worst.'

at last hermione fainted. she wud hav crashed to the harth had sir nikk not stepped forward and cot her. with a somewhat wistful glans at her boosum he propped her up against the marbel surrownd. then he pikked up his hankerchif looked arowd the room for any forgoten artikles and heded for the door. as he renched it open he perceeved a mr mcauliffe outside. the butler was brethless he had run.

'ah mcauliffe' sed sir nikk slipping the servant a guinea coin.'good man. glad to see you. her ladyship has swuned. see to that wont you?'

mcauliffe opened and shut his muoth lyk a goldfish in distress and looked from the young mans bloody fase and shirt to the room beyond.

'my lady!'

'exit the yung man' sed sir nikkolas and made a beeline for the bakk stayrs.


to be kontinued...