I had occasion to go to the Traders Ball yesterday evening. It was a fine affair. The main event was a dinner of roasted swan stuffed with Chinchillas livers. It was delicious. During the dinner, there was a raffle in which myself and several of my peers won hats made from the pelts of the furry little devils.
After dinner, several of us gentleman traders stood in our furry tailed hats discussing business around the dance floor. The brandy was flowing freely and we swashed it down manfully as we smoked some Old Humpers Stout tabacco.
Perhaps it was the brandy that caused me to react a little too slowly when the Lady Darnley breezed up and asked me to dance. I am not above the dancing as they say. In fact, I have even been compared to Larry Finefoot, the English master of dance. A fine fellow despite having a nose like a prolapsed anus.
And so I found myself on the dancefloor, leading the not so fine a filly, Lady Darnley, in a slow waltz. As we revolved around the dance floor she repeatedly pushed into my hip whilst breathing hard in my ear. Eventually, she started to whinny and banged her pelvis off mine repeatedly.
Thankfully the band eventually stopped playing and I stood back and regarded the dishevelled Lady Darnley.
Milady, you have quite the sweat on, perhaps you would care to... freshen up?
Her chest was still heaving in her dress, like a barrel-chested pony in satin.
Oh let us not mess about Uncle Boom. Take me upstairs. And when I say take me, I mean take me in the way a man takes a woman!
I was aghast. This hunting horror thought for a moment that I would deign to bless her with my dowsing stick?
Upstairs? Lady Darnley, a filly you may be but I wouldn't ride you into battle!
I emphasised my point by banging her on the flanks with my cane. She snorted and flung her hair back before galloping off, much to my relief.
Many more brandies later, back in Boom Manor I thought of my fellow Steemians. The good sort who find themselves in a bind and looking for a little guidance. Could I, yet again bring my softer side to the fore and lend them some help, just like I did with the Lady Darnley.
Time to see. I fired up the damnable electric counting machine and logged onto the chats. What did we have here, two lost lost souls, looking for the light?
SpamFarmer1: Can upvote and resteem to 4000 followers, interested?
Uncle Boom: I can stick a jackfruit up your arse and call you a canape, interested?
Oh, he's gone. Moving on.
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SpamFarmer2: Hello. Are you single?
Uncle Boom: Am I single? Goodness me. Hold on.
I dashed off to squirt on some fine cologne. My favourite, El Cabron, some Spanish affair made from oysters hearts and goat hair.
Uncle Boom: Sorry about that. Why do you ask. Perhaps you seek to tease me with your feminine wiles?
SpamFarmer2: No man, I am a dude. Just want to get to know you. Where you from?
Uncle Boom: What the blazes, A dude??! And you see fit to come on here and tease a fellow until he is semi-erect? Begone with you, you painted harlot! I have a good mind to thrash you with my cane!
SpamFarmer2: I am from Nigeria.
Uncle Boom: What?!!? I don't care where you are from you fraudulent hussy. Bend over so I can give you what for!! What, wait, no, not like that! You seek to fuddle my senses!! Get off the line.
Dammit, I wonder if the good Lady Darnley is still awake. I appear to have an itch.
Another successful week. I hope you continue to drop in for some solid advisements. If you feel the need... provided you don't seek to lure me into wickedness then please, do so via the steemit chats. Anonymity is assured, after all...
