The Case of the Misshapen Head

The following is to be read aloud ONLY by Proper English Gentlemen,
The rest of you may read along quietly:

It was quarter past the 22nd hour and all was still but the wind and willows. The night sang its sleepy song to the slumbering ears of a certain Felix Ferdinand II whilst a can of vegetable beef soup sat, spinning in the micro. The can of soup is not important though; forget that it was ever mentioned. In any event, the can of soup sat, spinning and cooking whilst a certain Felix Ferdinand II lay slumbering about dark and swirly things. To be particular, she dreamed that her head was sorely misshapen and was caving in on her brain. This Felix Ferdinand II, in her bleak and ghastly state, etched a frown upon her lips and tried to shew the thought away. Alas, the can of soup, which again, should have no weight in this tale, was finished and had been poured into a bowl. Felix Ferdinand II returned to the land of consciousness, still grimacing. The dream, she realized as she slowly felt the back of her head, had come true! Her fingers told the story; her head was sorely misshapen and inward it was caving! By this time, the ever persistent bowl of soup had made its way down the hall and into the bedroom where the Damsel was riveted in her distress. It wasn't hard to piece together, since the corners of her mouth nearly touched her toes. The bowl of soup was hastily clanked upon a dresser, sloshing about in its way. Felix Ferdinand II sat up and began to cry. Much to its chagrin, the bowl of soup was made to wait. There, upon her bed; upon her basilisk of comfort, the Damsel was wracked with her new yet ever present distress. This was the highest offense that nature could conjure. For the place Felix Ferdinand II wished most for comfort, was the exact place where she found none. It was that misshapen head of hers that caused the discord and discomfort. The bowl of soup was cooling. It was then the Damsel found loving arms and wept her tears of weep. Those loving arms had loving hands that wiped the weep from her cheeks. These loving arms were also attached to a loving body, complete with a loving head. Ironically, Felix Ferdinand II found, this head was shaped just like hers! It was sudden then, that a thought came streaming in; she had never really touched the back of her head before this night. In fact, as she felt the loving head, her own became more shapen than mis. The soup was still waning in its bowl. "All heads must be like this!" the Damsel chimed. She also found that what she called caving, most call a tension headache. So, off she went, back to sleep; back to listening to midnight's sweet melody. Not to dream of dark and swirlies but of marshmallow paddies and chocolate moonlight. The wind continued its dance through the willows and the bowl of soup, that was never forgotten, finally found its home.

The End.

Felix Ferdinand I

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