Your Caius Aquilla by John Andrew Fredrick

Author:John Andrew Fredrick [Fredrick, John Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Humour
ISBN: 9781945572562
Goodreads: 33947334
Publisher: Rare Bird Books
Published: 2017-04-11T00:00:00+00:00

IV Aprillus

Dear Friend:

Hail, Caius. I have something sorrow-making to tell you & it’s not going to be easy to disburthen myself of this heavy load, open up, tell you straight up, straight out, lay it on the line, & get down to the nitty-gritty; so I’m just going to come right out & say it. I muck or fucked up. I really did. Oh this is bad. This is not good. This is a major faux pas & a half. I don’t know where to begin. Certainly, I never ever thought the day would come—the saddest day, coming where & when I never thought it would come; the day in which I would have to deliver news to you that would perhaps be most unwelcome if not excruciating to you, but, well, how can I put this? & now it’s here. There’s no getting round it—it’s happening. Obviously discombobulated, I’ve let my syntax wax jumbled as a retarded child’s alphabet blocks, & my thoughts are scattered like the tempest-tossed ships in The Odyssey. I’m sure you can guess what I am about to confess: so here goes nothing. That unutterably smiling, smug, unctuous, & attractive bastard Marius was here last night, mooning round, making moony eyes and kissy-mouths at me & so forth, after the kids were well bathed then put down & a glory story read to them of an against-all-odds Roman triumph over some pesky Egyptians. He’d brought his harp over: he wanted some pointers gratis from yours truly. Or so he said. What a sham. The ruses people resort to sometimes! Well, one thing lead to another as they say & we smiled & laughed & played & had a spot of wine &… I feel such a swine telling you this, writing like this—perhaps it’s better if I don’t tell you, better left unsaid, but I’ve started this halting confession so I may as well follow through with it, & plus with the outrageous price of papyrus these days I don’t want to waste an entire sheet of it, you know, papyrus prices being inextricably linked to the granary stock market, as any fool knows… Well, as I was saying we had some wine, & some more, then a bit more, then just one more tumbler, & some deal of fresh cheese, a bit of black pudding, plus a wedge each of sugar-dusted bread loaf dipped in extra virgin olive oil, plus some pig leftover from the second luncheon time, with a bit of choice cold cow, thin-sliced of course, from a couple of nights ago &—hmm—some dabs of pate of duck, a plate of sautéed sand dabs, quail sliders, roasted new potatoes, a rasher of liver, plump red and golden delicious apples, grapes both purple & white, a lovely burnt cherry tart, toasted honey-&-nut paste bars, some manna morsels in milk & a wedge each of yesterday’s moist-baked cream tea cakes from when I had Drusilla & two other women friends whose names I can’t

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