Posted on Wednesday, 31 October 2007

Mr. Palmer rode up towards the Barton cottage with an air of indifference, his head pulsing from the headache that was caused by the constant annoyance that was his wife. Just ahead of him, Mrs. Jennings and Sir John eagerly approached the door with expectation.

“You are really going to like these women,” Sir John nudged his elbow into Mr. Palmer’s side and gave a wink. “After all, four beauties such as these women you don’t often see every day now.”

“I understood that the youngest girl was not yet ten, and Mrs. Dashwood to be quite old. How could you consider them beauties?”

“True, true, but Palmer my boy,” he lowered his voice so that the ladies might not hear him, “The youngest is the prettiest by far, I mean the younger they are the…” he stopped himself from finishing his thought and brought himself back to a dignified posture, “Well yes, anyways, just because I am married does not mean that I cannot enjoy the scenery that these fine women can bring.”

Mr. Palmer was disgusted by his brother-in-laws pedophile-istic (it’s a word!) tendencies. He went back to being his aloof self and stifled a yawn when Sir John differed from his path to the door towards the window where a young woman was standing just inside the house.

“I have come to…”

Mr. Palmer tuned out his “brother” and tried to think of happier things, like his newspaper. He was almost serene thinking about his black and white lover when Mrs. Jennings broke away from them and joined Sir John saying to the girl at the window, “I have not the patience enough to wait till the door is opened to tell you about my guests!”

"Your guests? When pigs fly!"

"You fly?"

He watched as his mother and brother-in-law vied for the young women’s attention before getting into a fistfight, and brawling on the ground, before rolling down the picturesque, scenic, steep… (You get the idea) hills all the while fighting. While they kept tumbling and kicking and pulling hair and biting and punching and yelling, they failed to notice that they were tumbling into the Dark Forest on Colonel Brandon’s land. The sky went dark and suddenly it was night. Clouds covered and quickly uncovered the moon. A loud howl was heard and the screams of two very annoying family members were heard before the sun suddenly came back out, the birds began to sing. No one ever saw Sir John or Mrs. Jennings ever again.

It was a very delighted looking Elinor who opened the door to the cottage and welcomed them inside. “I have been trying to get rid of them for weeks!” she said as they took their seats on the couch.

“I have been trying to get rid of them for years!” Mr. Palmer said.

“Oh my! Who shall help me deliver my baby now? Who shall teach me all that I shall need to know once I deliver in December? Oh dear! But I have a cheerful disposition you know, it is prepossessing is it not? Well of course it is now who shall teach me?” Mrs. Palmer chattered, making Mr. Palmer's headache worse.

“You forget that I have two children, and they are all of whom I can speak about, did you know…blah blah… and then he…etc etc… imagine my surprise when…” babbled Lady Middleton.

Mr. Palmer ignored the women and turned to Miss Dashwood, he gave a bow said his “How do you do?” and then looked for a newspaper to entertain himself with. Elinor being Elinor decided to keep herself busy drawing so that she might forget Edward.

Soon after Marianne arrived and he said his “How do you do?” and turned back to his paper, Marianne however being Marianne decided to speak with her new acquaintance about all things pertaining to everything.

“So how do you like Cowper sir?”

“ It is….”

“Oh no this will never do, do not you know sir that to engage my attention you must speak with energy, now start over!”

“It is…”

“No, oh my, how can Mrs. Palmer stand you, she is to be pitied, you are nothing at all like Willoughby, no he says his words in such a… blah blah…”

Mr. Palmer tuned her out and returned to his beloved…the paper. He was just about finished with the first page when Mrs. Dashwood and Miss Margaret came down. This time when he looked up from his paper to say his “How do you do?” he was stunned by the absolute beauty in Mrs. Dashwood, how on earth the late Sir John could have preferred the daughter when the mother was more beautiful was beyond Mr. Palmer, he had just decided to be agreeable by speaking of the weather when he heard his wife cry out in pain.

“What is it Mrs. Palmer?” was his disinterested question, he didn’t even glance at his wife, his eyes were only for Mrs. Dashwood.

“My love, I think it’s tIME" she screeched at the end.

"For what?" he asked, staring at Mrs. Dashwood.

"FOR WHAT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN FOR WHAT? BLOODY *ELL MR. PALMER, THE BABY THAT'S WHAT!"

Mr. Palmer panicked, “What do I do? What do I do?” he screamed running about in circles.

The ever-beautiful Mrs. Dashwood rolled up his beloved newspaper and smacked him upside the head. “Get a doctor you nit-wit!”

“A doctor?” he asked dazed, before comprehension dawned on him. “Yes, a doctor, I shall get a doctor!”

Elinor turned to the readers and asked, “Is there a doctor in the house?”

“House?” was Mr. Palmer’s confused reply. ‘Where have I heard that before? House…doctor…House…doctor…’

“That’s it!” he cried. He ran to the kitchen, grabbed the pill of bottles popped some in his mouth, before running towards the door and grabbing an umbrella. Leaning on his “walking stick” he began to bark orders at all in the room, before popping some more pills.

“Ma’am, I am going to need you to settle down and take a seat before you die from over-stressed-out-annoying-bubonic-hindrance-syndrome!”

The whole room turned to look at him and let out a collective, “Huh?”

“Just do as I say or I shall verbally abuse you all!”

They listened to Doctor House a.k.a. Mr. Palmer and after forty hours of labor, it was time.

Marianne, as Mrs. Palmers breathing coach, criticized her breathing, saying that it was not expressive enough to her tastes, Lady Middleton stood by and watched with an elegant disinterest, Elinor began to draw again, trying to forget Edward when Doctor House said, “I see it! I see the…head?” he shook himself saying he was just tired and went on with the delivery, when all was done, Doctor House stood shocked as a little white mouse stared up at him.

“Hello!” he squeaked.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Stewart!”

“My you are a little one Stewart!” something in Doctor House’s mind snapped.

‘Stewart…Little…Stewart…Little” his eye began to twitch as he handed the mouse to Mrs. Palmer.

“Congratulations madam, it’s a mouse.”

Mrs. Palmer was so shocked that she slipped into a coma and never woke up. Leaving Mr. Palmer a widower. He proposed to Mrs. Dashwood on the spot, and they married the next day. Margaret, Stewart, Marianne, and Elinor came to live with him and his new wife.

Stewart became exceedingly helpful to the eldest daughters as he helped Marianne realize that Willoughby was just a rake and that Colonel Brandon was the one for her, and as it was a truth universally acknowledged that Mrs. Ferrars and Lucy Steele were deathly afraid of mice, he scared them both to death, leaving Edward to inherit everything and free to marry Elinor.

On their one-year anniversary, Mrs. Palmer nee Dashwood announced that she was pregnant and would be delivering in December. Mr. Palmer’s happiness was complete and he said to his wife on the occasion, “How fortunate for us that-“ he was cut off by a shrill voice that he knew all to well.

Mr. Palmer was startled from his dream with his wife’s shrill voice saying that it was time to leave. How sad he was when he saw that his wife was still alive and that his mother and brother-in-law had not been mauled, but he hid his disappointment with his mask of indifference. When Lady Middleton rose to go away, Mr. Palmer rose also, laid down the newspaper, stretched himself, and looked at them all around.

“My love, have you been asleep?” giggled Mrs. Palmer.

The End