The orchestra played “The Waltz of the Dancing Bears” as the couples alternately swirled and pounded their feet to the deep bass music, heavily accented by drums. Candles burned in silver candelabras placed on the window sills of the ball room. All wore white, shining in the dim light. Sir Milos Westerman spoke.
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I’m good. I am recovering from being stressed out over the holidays, with a bad cold, and with a zillion projects. You are so nice to ask. Actually I have a new post I just worked on, so I hope you’re up for a tough, but fascinating challenge! –Ann
Everything okay, Ann?
That was nutty.
Just because you rocked Milos does not mean someone else cannot blow the string sky high with a little this, and that!
; )
What shines through yonder Bluetooth speaker hence?
Bwiwiant!
Thanks Lawrence. It appears that Sir Milos is not terrible popular. Or, maybe it’s the bears people don’t like. 🙂
Three Faces of Sir Milos Westerman
Spy
“Whitherford, do you see the woman wearing the white opera gloves and ermine stole?”
“The one with the protruding teeth sir?”
“No, next to her Whitherford.”
“Ah, yes sir. The woman with the Aruban spider monkey on her shoulder.”
“Yes,” said Sir Milos eying the woman intently. “I have reason to believe the monkey did not arrive with that woman, and…” Sir Milos paused for effect. “He has no ticket.”
“Good gracious,” exclaimed Whitherford, his eyes twitching wildly at the very thought. “How Sir are you able to tell?”
“Quite simple actually,” said Westerman, tapping his Royal Turk cigarette against the Sheffield silver cigarette case he had removed from the breast pocket of his bespoke Anderson & Sheppard smoking jacket. “That monkey is…”
Sir Milos paused mid-sentence, pointing helplessly at the Yanomami blow pipe dart stuck in the left side of his neck. “..is…is,” he sputtered while collapsing to the ruby red Ziegler Mahal carpet, an obvious victim of curare poisoning.
Pitchman
“Hi, ‘Sir’ Milo S. Westerman here, former pro-football linebacker, for Bargemobile. Whether I am attending a fete at the Wiener Staatsoper, or just picking up a few items at my local 7-11, I appreciate the refined luxury found in my all-new Bargemobile XLMS. Every appointment, from the excessive chrome ornamentation to the illuminated wheel covers, are carefully engineered to maximize both style and appearance. Take for example, the new twelve-speaker immersive audiotronic sound system. I could spend thousands on trips to the grand opera houses of Europe, like the one behind me, or, I can enjoy that same superior audio quality right from a handicapped parking space at my neighborhood Piggley-Wiggley. Whether I’m in the mood for classic rap, hip-hop, or even “urban contemporary,” my Bargemobile XLMS with optional audiotronic sound has me covered. So, isn’t it time for you to experience the affordable luxury of Bargemobile? Your friendly Bargemobile dealer LOCALIZATION Smilin’ Joe’s Vee-Hickel Emporium in the Roughage County Strip-Shopette (just 5 blocks from where the old JC Penney used to be) END LOCALIZATION has all of the new 2018 models, and can show you several attractive, federally mandated, financing options. Bargemobile, where class and refinement intersect your lifestyle.”
War Hero
TRANSCRIPT BBC 1
Milos Westerman Interview
Broadcast Date: 14 September, 2017
Sir Milos Westerman MBE: “Is this sissy rubbish over with then?”
BBC: “Shush! Please Sir Milos, we’re live”
BBC: “And that was “The Waltz of the Dancing Bears” performed by the Longines Royal Symphonette Society, directed by Sir Lawrence H. W. Hinton-Barstock, with dancing provided by the Saint Beulah’s Orphans and Cripples Refuge Performing Arts Company from Boggson-Whiltenshire on Kentpool, Essex.”
BBC: “And now we’ve an interview with Sir Milos Westerman MBE, the last surviving member of His Majesty’s Royal Fusiliers, 8th Corps, who saw action in the Great War.”
BBC: “Thank you so much for being with us today.”
SMW: “They said I would be paid.”
BBC: “Ha, ha. Certainly you will Sir Milos, but I have a few questions for you first. So, right then, how did you come to join the Army in 1916?”
SMW: “They said I would be paid.”
BBC: “So, patriotism was not a factor. What then was your first impression of the army?”
SMW: “The tube.”
BBC: “Now Sir Milos, there was no tube in 1916. I’m sure you mean…”
SMW: “No, the bloody tube for me arse. It’s come un… Aaaaccccckkkkkkkkkkk….eccck…..ecck. ec…..”
BBC: “Oh, God. Yellow fluid. Liters of it. Somebody ring the NHS! I know it’s St. Ogontz day, call somebody anyway! Oh, and now pus. Bloody pus. What is that smell? Oh God, the smell…How can a man have that much pus? He’s a bloody cream filled pastry!….. Cut to BBC 5. Cut!”
BBC 5: “And welcome to our presentation of part 5 of the 26-part series, “Cheese Making in the Low Countries.”
And so Sir Westerbrook spoke to his production manager about staging the performance at the Bears’ practice stadium, employing Cheerleaders in place of lumbering dancers.
There was no reaction to the applause. None, nada, zip. Sir Milos slowly stopped clapping his hands. “Gentlemen, is there a problem?”
A Paul Bunyan-like figure separated himself from the crowd and lumbered to the front. “Yeah, well,,, Yeah.”
“Please elucidate,” said Sir Milo. The huge man stood for a moment, then turned and began walking toward the exit.
“No, no, no,” said Sir Milos. “I said ‘elucidate,’ Not exit.”
The man returned to the front. “I just don’t see no way this dancing stuff will help us prepare.” Sounds of agreement rumbled behind him. “Like, them Lions ain’t dancing, I can tell you that!”
Sir Milos turned to a man beside him and whispered. The man whispered back to Sir Milos.
“Ah, now I see,” said Sir Milos. “You think this is sissy stuff. Am I correct?
More rumbles from the crowd. The giant spoke, “We shouldn’t be in here like we’re a bunch of vampires. We’re the Chicago Bears, man! We need to be out there on the field! Running plays, workin’ out! Them Lions is tough, man. That running back of theirs? Like a freight train. No way we can let him do-si-do around us. He’d make us look like fools on Monday Night Football.”
And with that, all the players went to the locker room, shucked off their whites and tugged on their black Bears jerseys.
“Believe it or not, my dears, this composition was inspired by an 1879 painting by William Holbrook Beard called, Dancing With Bears.” Sir Westerbrook observed from the rear balcony of the hall while the orchestra, the stomping guests, and the flickering candelabras played out the scene. Even the high ceilings, cloaked in darkness, mimicked a canopy of forest tree branches above it all.
“I think they have caught the spirit of it!” He turned to his friends seated with him and rose from his seat to applaud.