Barnaby, Rufus and Charles were enjoying a festive brunch of tea and scones in the parlor of Delosius Stanton’s high country manor. The esteemed host Stanton was currently nursing an extreme faux pas in the town centre. The topic currently of debate was Charles’ recent acquisition of five ton of African house product. Lets see what we can make of it:

“… I was rather skeptical of it’s cleaning abilities, naturally,” explained Charles to his peers, “and it’s cooking skills are still not up to the top standards I usually possess, but in time I do believe it could excel in making my life quite enjoyable.”

“And where did you say you found this delightful item?” asked Barnaby.

“Well, Captain Jones down at Foxworthy pier was kind enough to sell it to me, and at a vastly reduced price, mind you.”

“Oh yes indeed,” agreed Barnaby. “In what area of Africa does it originate?”

“I believe they all come from a tribe named Zulu, but I may be mistaken, as I am not an expert in the society ties of the African Natives, you see.”

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmm, Captain Jones’ first mate is an excellent bedfellow, if you see my point,” said Rufus.

“We’ve all unwittingly seen your point at one time or another, you despicable man. Now be quiet with you, here comes Nestor with more scones.”

And indeed Nestor did comes in with a tray of edibles, but they weren’t scones. Nestor placed the tray down on a small table next to Charles, then quickly extricated himself from the proceedings.

“Nestor doesn’t like working with niggers,” explained Charles.

“Yes.”

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

****

Outside the small white room, Nestor went up to the Orderly Smith.

“Do you think those tranquilizers will do, Smith?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Dr. Jones thinks they’re having some kind of hallucination where they’re in the 18th century. Charlie keeps talking about those sheets from Foxworthy’s Downtown like they are slaves or something.”

“And he keeps calling me Nestor, like I’m a fucking butler or something,” said Orderly Nelson.

“Dr. Jones reckons his associating the hospital staff into his hallucination. Thinks its to keep some base in reality.”

“Yeah, well Dr. Jones could reckon up a blue storm, the board will never let him back in after what he did to Rufus.”

They looked through the Plexiglas on the door at Rufus, who sported a large red burn down the left side of his face.

“Rufus did attack his son, Nelson.”

“I guess. Life goes on.”

“That it does. I’ll see you later.”

“Yep.”

They both turned and walked opposite ways down the corridor, away from the maniacs in room 3-B.

THE END

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