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11-04-03, for Vinnie Tesla
Birthday Victim Victorian, Take 2
The Birthday Satyr is standing impatiantly by the stage in La Taverna. He's been there all day, clipboard in hand. He's excited…he's been hired by the Birthday Nymph as a Roadie! He's doing the legwork, and it's earning him a small fortune, under the table mostly.
Stage, decorated as Victorian-era London alley. Check.
Fog machine... Check. Tendrils of chilling mist choke the alley, swirling as a black cat leaps to an open genuine Victorian Dempstre Dumpstre.
Gas street lamp... Check. The flame gutters and leaps as icy breezes stir, causing the fog to swirl again.
Special Invitation to the birthday boy to don Ripper Costume and show up sent... Check. No receipt yet. Hope that doesn't pose a problem. The Birthday Satyr chews a nail, worriedly, then shrugs.
Birthday cake with genuine Victorian flavor, from which the Birthday Nymph will leap dressed in a corset and stockings and pseudo-victorian prostitute dress... ah, here comes the cake delivery service now. The Satyr dashes over to take delivery. Wait... this doesn't look Victorian at all. He lifts the lid...
Looking up at him is a tall woman with old eyes. Eyes that have seen a lot. Maybe too much. She has a bored expression. “Look, is this gig going to take long? After this Bachelor Party, I have another gig lined up at a frat house.”
B.S. gulps. “No, not long at all.”
He asks the delivery driver what other deliveries he's made. The only other one was to a bachelor party at the Elks lodge at their Retreat, deep in the woods. “I think they were expecting a hooker or something. Those Elks looked really horny.”
B.S. gulps again. “I hope she remembered her wand...”
Oh well. He signals the waiter and waitresses to surround the Victim's table and start their smarmy birthday song, and begins pushing the cake down the alley. Things might work out. At this end, at any rate. Cake... Check.
“Happy Birthday, Vinnie!”
