Fic & Poetry: Cabinet Pudding: Teen
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holmes_minorTitle: Cabinet Pudding
Length: 500
Rating: Teen for body horror a la Sweeney Todd
Characters: Holmes, Watson, and Inky Quill, porcupine and balladeer.
For: the Holmes minor poetry page as well as exercise #12 of Stephen Fry's The Ode Less Travelled.
Summary: Holmes & Watson spot a porcupine in a public house. Ballads are sung.
“Not to derail our mission, but is that—?”
“A porcupine with a pint of bitters? Perhaps.”
Holmes and I made our way as inconspicuously as possible to the bar.
I coughed, and Holmes snorted, and we succeeded in getting the attention of our quarry.
“Captain Basil, I presume?” said the rodent.
“Aye,” said Holmes. He nudged me and said, “And this here be Bosun…”
“Woesun,” I supplied.
Holmes turned his head and said under his breath, “Bosun Woesun?”
I tried to look stalwart and seaworthy.
“Quill, Inky,” said the porcupine. “I’m a scribbler of shanties, and tonight, this crew will be giving one of my ballads its maiden voyage.”
“Ah.” I nodded with understanding, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’ve gone into lyrical verse?”
“It keeps the wolf from the door. It’s a rather Bohemian composition.”
“Well, you’ve chosen the right venue,” remarked Holmes as he looked about the place. “Does no one comment?”
“On a porcupine in a public house?”
“Yes.”
“I say I was in the Crimea. Would either of you do me the service of imbibing this?” The porcupine gestured to the pint. “I wanted to blend in, but as an herbivore, I’ve no stomach for spirits.”
“Consider it done,” I said as the ragtag band in the corner began to strike up a jaunty tune.
“Oh, here we go! It’s called ‘Cabinet Pudding.’”
Now gather round and let me tell
the tale of Fanny Wise
and how her sweet wife Isabelle
did suck out both her eyes.
It began with cabinet puddin’t
Isabelle said she’d make it,
and old Fanny said she woudn’t
or may the Devil take it!
The Devil heard old Fanny Wise,
and shook his pointed head,
cab’net puddin’ he did despise,
he’d take her wife instead!
The puddin’ called for four round eggs,
the cupboard held but two.
Mad Izzy sucked ‘em out like pegs
and left two sockets blue.
Then on to candied peel arranged
in fanciful device
Ol’ Fanny made a squeal deranged
with each and every slice.
In Isabelle-skin coat, Sir Bold
did press and he did plunge
a lady’s fingers in a mould
and called ‘em Fanny Sponge!
The sultanas and the currants,
reeked a brimstone smell,
t'seems they were and then they weren’t
dried on the fires o’ hell.
So Fanny got her just desserts,
‘twas served with sauce a-side
and Isabelle just swished her skirts
and skipped away a bride!
“Three encores, Mister Quill,” said Holmes leaning close—but not too close—to be heard over the din. “You’ve a hit on your paws.”
“I think you’re right. Cheers!” cried the porcupine. He clinked his empty mug against Holmes’s half-full one while I joined in the chorus.
“It began with cabinet puddin’t. Isabelle said she’d make it, and old Fanny said she woudn’t or may the Devil take it! And the Devil he did take it! And the Devil he did make it! And the Devil he did MA-A-AKE sweet Isabelle his bride!”
Length: 500
Rating: Teen for body horror a la Sweeney Todd
Characters: Holmes, Watson, and Inky Quill, porcupine and balladeer.
For: the Holmes minor poetry page as well as exercise #12 of Stephen Fry's The Ode Less Travelled.
Summary: Holmes & Watson spot a porcupine in a public house. Ballads are sung.
“Not to derail our mission, but is that—?”
“A porcupine with a pint of bitters? Perhaps.”
Holmes and I made our way as inconspicuously as possible to the bar.
I coughed, and Holmes snorted, and we succeeded in getting the attention of our quarry.
“Captain Basil, I presume?” said the rodent.
“Aye,” said Holmes. He nudged me and said, “And this here be Bosun…”
“Woesun,” I supplied.
Holmes turned his head and said under his breath, “Bosun Woesun?”
I tried to look stalwart and seaworthy.
“Quill, Inky,” said the porcupine. “I’m a scribbler of shanties, and tonight, this crew will be giving one of my ballads its maiden voyage.”
“Ah.” I nodded with understanding, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’ve gone into lyrical verse?”
“It keeps the wolf from the door. It’s a rather Bohemian composition.”
“Well, you’ve chosen the right venue,” remarked Holmes as he looked about the place. “Does no one comment?”
“On a porcupine in a public house?”
“Yes.”
“I say I was in the Crimea. Would either of you do me the service of imbibing this?” The porcupine gestured to the pint. “I wanted to blend in, but as an herbivore, I’ve no stomach for spirits.”
“Consider it done,” I said as the ragtag band in the corner began to strike up a jaunty tune.
“Oh, here we go! It’s called ‘Cabinet Pudding.’”
Now gather round and let me tell
the tale of Fanny Wise
and how her sweet wife Isabelle
did suck out both her eyes.
It began with cabinet puddin’t
Isabelle said she’d make it,
and old Fanny said she woudn’t
or may the Devil take it!
The Devil heard old Fanny Wise,
and shook his pointed head,
cab’net puddin’ he did despise,
he’d take her wife instead!
The puddin’ called for four round eggs,
the cupboard held but two.
Mad Izzy sucked ‘em out like pegs
and left two sockets blue.
Then on to candied peel arranged
in fanciful device
Ol’ Fanny made a squeal deranged
with each and every slice.
In Isabelle-skin coat, Sir Bold
did press and he did plunge
a lady’s fingers in a mould
and called ‘em Fanny Sponge!
The sultanas and the currants,
reeked a brimstone smell,
t'seems they were and then they weren’t
dried on the fires o’ hell.
So Fanny got her just desserts,
‘twas served with sauce a-side
and Isabelle just swished her skirts
and skipped away a bride!
“Three encores, Mister Quill,” said Holmes leaning close—but not too close—to be heard over the din. “You’ve a hit on your paws.”
“I think you’re right. Cheers!” cried the porcupine. He clinked his empty mug against Holmes’s half-full one while I joined in the chorus.
“It began with cabinet puddin’t. Isabelle said she’d make it, and old Fanny said she woudn’t or may the Devil take it! And the Devil he did take it! And the Devil he did make it! And the Devil he did MA-A-AKE sweet Isabelle his bride!”
