Copyright
J.B. Norman
And, later, she’s gonna encase Nolan’s stapler in a block of Jell-O.
Sally looks up at her brother.
“Hey, Nolan,” she says, “You sound like this —” She clears her throat, straightens up her posture and affects a bearing of self-serious, unwavering professionalism “— Pursuant to Section Blah, Blah, Blah, Subsection Whatever of the Guild Authority Charter, let’s vote on the amendment that every member of the guild is required to wear long pants on Tuesdays.”
“I don’t sound like that!” Nolan protests. “And that’s not even part of the Guild Authority Charter! There’s nothing about long pants in the section about guild uniforms!”
“You’d know,” Matilda mutters.
“I’m the Captain! It’s my job to know this stuff!” Nolan insists.
“I’m the Captain,” Sally repeats in her Nolan Voice, “it’s my job to know this stuff!”
She grins up at her brother before turning to Matilda.
“And, Matilda, you sound like this —” she begins.
“Sally Theodora Lyte,” Matilda warns her sister, “don’t you dare!”
Sally poses with her hands on her hips. “Grrr, Nolan!” she says. “How dare you drop us into a den of Dire Marmots! I’ll never get the smell out of my hair!”
“She sounds just like you!” Nolan says.
“Shut up, Nolan,” Matilda mutters.
Sally smirks at Matilda before turning her attention to Tancred.
“And Mister Tancred,” she says.
“Actually, it’s Sir Tancred,” he notes. “But, have at it, Miss Sally. I can take it.”
Sally momentarily drops her aura of incisive observational comedy and glances back at her siblings. “See? Why can’t you be cool like Mister Tancred. He knows it’s supposed to be fun!”
She scoffs.
“You two are way too serious!”
“How is letting you insult us fun?” Nolan asks.
Sally rolls her eyes. “It’s called a roast, Nolan. Duh.”
She turns back to Tancred. “Anyway, Mister Tancred —”
He peers down at Sally with thoughtfully narrowed eyes. “You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?”
Sally responds by dramatically bowing low and answering Tancred in her attempt at his own voice, “I have the great, grand, great, phantasmagoric —”
“You said great twice, Miss Sally,” Tancred notes. “And that is most assuredly not what phantasmagoric means.”
Sally grins up at the knight.
“I most assuredly have the honour and privilege of being Sir Tancred von NineMiddlesNames. And that’s the Porthaven von NineMiddleNameses, of course.”
“That,” Tancred says, struggling to suppress a fit of chuckling. “Is actually quite clever, Miss Sally. You’ve struck at my foibles quite expertly, if I may say.”
“Would you say it was phantasmagoric?” Sally asks hopefully.
Tancred chuckles. “I suppose I would, Miss Sally.”
Sally turns back to Nolan and Matilda and sticks her tongue out at them.
“You’re no fun,” she tells them.
She turns at last to Amara.
The Elf defiantly crosses her arms over her chest.
“So, Amara,” Sally ventures, “you sound like this —”
“Do your worst,” she dares Sally.
Sally adopts a prim and proper demeanour as she stares down Amara. She clears her throat and begins her take on Amara, “Katherine, Katherine, Katherine. Have you met Katherine? And what have you thought of the weather lately, it’s been quite Katherine lately, hasn’t it?”
“I will admit that you’re quite good at capturing my tone and demeanour,” Amara concedes, but she scoffs and dismissively waves her hand. “But I do not talk about Katherine quite that much.”
“You kind of do,” Matilda notes.
“And Pela and Falcata are my friends, so I’m not going to make fun of them,” Sally concludes.
“Aww,” Pela says. “Thanks, Sally.”
“Go to your room, Sally,” Matilda says.
So, as I understand it, the real Friars Club is a place where famous people go to be mean to each other…
The rest of my writing exercises are here. This scene is from August 2022.
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