Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 161.18

Harold looked at himself in the mirror, adjusted the collar and pulled down the sleeves. The cuffs on their own were six inches long, leaving the sleeves ruched and flowing. “It takes me back a bit, to be honest. I used to wear this kind of thing as a young man. All I need now is a velvet jacket and a cravat and I could be twenty again.”

Jasfoup clapped him on the shoulder. “You could never be twenty again, Harold.”

“Why not? I still have the figure and the flair for the dramatic.”

“It's not so much a flair as a tent flap these days, old bean.” Jasfoup grinned. “Besides, don't you remember what an idiot you were at twenty? You were the poor kid in Queen's College trying to keep up with all the post kids up from Eton and Harrow. They spoke with plums in their mouth and you spoke with a potato. You were a laughing stock among the upper echelons until your mum sent me to look after you.”

“You were at college with me? I don't remember you there.”

“You don't? You don't remember Scully Peabright, the kid everybody loved to hate?”

“Oh yes. He was so despised they forgot to torment me half the time.” Harold's mouth dropped open. “Wait. That was you?”

“What? No, of course not. But it was me who brought him to everybody's attention by upping all his grades to top of the class.”

“But he was bullied horribly. He hung himself from the chapel bell tower.”

“Yes.” Jasfoup high-fived Sefskapoi. “Double win.”

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