The further adventures of Tea-stained (late-night foolishness and vulgarity, to allow the author to avoid writing anything sincere).
It was a fine Autumn afternoon as Ms. Tea-stained strolled down Glumchester Square. She didn’t often venture from her father’s estate, but today she desired some fine silk to construct an ornamental seagull trap, and all of the servants had contracted sleeping sickness. She thought it terribly selfish of them.
As she walked, the little urchin children limped around her, asking for all manner of things.
“How’s ’bout a farthing Miss?”
“A kind word Miss?”
“Can I ‘ave an enema Miss?”
“A univers’ty education Miss?”
Of course Ms. Tea-stained felt terribly sorry for the poor little cherubs, but she couldn’t simply give away enemas and kind words. She had taken these things in small quantities, but only enough for herself, other ladies she might encounter, and any suitors that might make themselves known. However, all this changed when she noticed a small, plump child among the others that possessed the most striking squirrel-like eyes, and a noble leer that just melted her heart.
She went up to this angelic youngster, sweeping the other children gently into the gutter with her parasol as she did so. When she finally reached the lad, she asked what he would like from her.
He replied tentatively, “an enema Miss,” before presenting his little round rump.
Ms. Tea-stained took out her most impressive clyster syringe, and, with a kindly smile, inserted the object between the rosy cheeks. “Bless you Miss,” quipped the lad as he pulled up his rotting trousers and proceeded to skip away, legs akimbo.
“I suppose I must be the kindest girl in all the world,” Ms. Tea-stained thought to herself as she threw away her, now partially soiled, gloves.