FROM: HMS Victor Victorian <victorvictorian@hushunomail.com>
> Act 1, Scene 2
>
> Father
>
> Monday, March 29, 6:45 pm
>
> The Macmillan parlour at the end of the work day. Mr. Roger Macmillan
> is a thin man, tall and lanky, with a prominent nose set in a sober
> face of almost severe features. He has just arrived home by train
> from his position as a design engineer for a construction firm in a
> city some distance from home. It has been raining, and even with his
> mackintosh, galoshes and bumbershoot, he appears at the door drenched.
> "My God, the weather!" he announced, stomping into the foyer.
>
> Peeling the mac off, Roger tossed it over a chair and slipped off
> his rubbers.
>
> "Hello, kids!" He grinned.
>
> "Hi, Dad." Claris and Nigel replied, hardly looking away from the
> television.
>
> "Is that a way to greet your dad?" Mum scolded and turned to give
> Roger a kiss as her husband moved to hang up his umbrella on a wall
> hook.
>
> Dutifully, Claris dragged herself off the divan to give her dad a hug.
> Nigel, who had been lying on the floor cuddled up in his favourite
> blanket in the whole wide world, a fleecy Pooh throw with frayed
> corners, and stroking Poohkums, the family's tan and brown long-haired
> cat that he'd personally named to the exclusion of everyone's
> preferences, shrugged off his blanket and stood up. Mr. Macmillan
> abruptly froze in the act of hanging up his umbrella.
>
>
> "Oh, dear," Angela lamented.
>
> "Nigel," Father asked firmly. "Where the blazes are your clothes?"
>
> "In the bedroom, I think, sir." Nigel replied softly, squeezed
> Poohkums, and gave his dad a small smile
> .
> Roger sighed an apology. "I'm sorry for the bad language, Nigel, dear
>
> "Well," Nigel offered, "That I'm starkers?"
>
> "Bonkers is more like it," Claris interjected. "Barmy."
>
> "Be quiet." Nigel retorted, wrinkling his nose in disdain.
>
> "Oh, Roger," his wife reasoned, "It's just a passing phase. Lots of
> little boys do it."
>
> "Well, I dare say I've never done it." Roger shook his head. "I
> thought you said he was past it already. How long has this been going
> on?"
>
>
> "Weeks? Weeks you say! Well, it's got to stop." Dad demanded,
> him locked up in a cellar with a bone and a bowl of water, or
> something rubbish like that. People think the worst. We'll have some
> social worker from the child welfare knocking us up before long."
>
> "I hope they take him off," Claris said. "And put him in a home."
>
> "Will they take me away, Mummy?" Nigel asked quietly, for the first
> time looking alarmed.
>
> "No, no, dear. Heavens, no!" Mum said, and knelt beside her son. She
> hugged him warmly, her large arms enveloping and pressing him into her
> ample bosom. "I love you darling. No one's taking you off."
>
> "Oh, yes they will. He's bonkers."
>
> "That's enough, Claris," her father warned, and looked down at Nigel,
> who seemed close to tears. "Now, darling. Nigel. Son. Please.
> You've just got to keep your clothes on. Can you do that for your old
> Dad?"
>
> "But, why?" Nigel asked.
>
> Mum rolled her eyes. Nigel saw the look.
>
> "Well, no one tells me a GOOD why!" the boy protested
> .
> gently. "People will talk about us and say things. Think of how our
> family will look. We'll be the laughing stock of the town, and we
> bobbing up and down. You could get a cat scratch or get it caught in
> a door."
>
> "Poohkums won't scratch my willy!" Nigel protested. "She just likes
>
> "You let the cat bat your willy about?" Claris exclaimed in disgust
> .
> "Goodness!"Mum interrupted, "That's quite enough, Nigel!"
>
> "Now I need to talk to your mother," Father finished, "So back to
> your programme, both of you."
>
> Nigel sat back down on the floor with thump, released Poohkums and
> threw his Pooh blanket back over him in a huff. Mr. Macmillan
> motioned Mrs. Macmillan into the adjoining kitchen.
>
> "I think it is time perhaps that you-know-who goes to see you-know-who
> about you-know-what." He said. "Could you make an appointment
> tomorrow morning?"
>
> Angela gave a dejected sigh.
>
> "Yes, yes. I suppose we should have someone see Nigel, but I had so
> hoped we'd not have to."
>
> "Not so loud, dear. The children will hear." Roger said, and gave his
> wife a kiss. "It will be fine. We just don't want it to get any
> worse."
>
> In the parlour, Claris grinned malevolently and pressed up against
> where her brother's head was hidden under the Pooh blanket.
>
> "They've got special white coats just for your type," she snickered.
> "With long sleeves and buckles."
>
> "Oh, belt up." Nigel growled from within his fleecy sanctuary.
Nice story! I know it is yours and therefore you get to do it your way.
But I could modify it into a family hard core sex scandel.
And, being a troll, I think I might steal it and write it my way.
Trolls love play-ger-risum.
Cumin' later: GroupTroll's "Nigel! The Untold Story"
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