Laurels Literary Magazine Spring 2014 | Page 12

Tea With Bluebeard Janna D. Tierney “Kyle, come sit with me, pleeeeeease! I want to have a tea party! Just for three minutes, pleeease. I’ll play pirates with you after for as long as you want.” “Fine. But only three minutes. I’ll be counting.” “Oh, my dear Mrs. Nesbit. How kind of you to drop by for tea. Is this your handsome husband? My, he is so charming!” “I trust you have brought me here for good purpose. I do not usually make stops this far off-course. But the wind was in your favor. So here I am.” “Ahem. Thank you so much for coming. It is such a joy having you. Would you like some tea?” “No, as a matter of fact I should like to get right to business. Where is the treasure?” “Kyle! Well I don’t know about any treasure. Would you care for a biscuit? I do believe they are called Queen cakes. Quite the rage.” “This is an outrage! Queen cakes? You offer mere trifles when I was promised doubloons! Show me the gold!” “Well, I suppose if you have them baked just right, they are a nice golden color on the inside. Vanilla-flavored, I believe. Would you care to try one?” “I should not! If you will not show me your loot, at least show me your blade and give me satisfaction!” “What? I must say, Mr. Nesbit, today you quite confuse me!” “My name is Bluebeard the Black-Hearted.” “Kyle! You said I’d get three minutes. You should have asked mom to let you bring the egg-timer from the bathroom.” “I am Bluebeard the Black-Hearted and Bluebeard the Black-Hearted I shall remain. You did not specify who you wanted at your . . . engagement.” “But I want to have a tea party with Kyle! My brother! Not Bluebeard the whatever!” “No, you wanted Mr. Nesbit. And I tell you, either I am Bluebeard the Black-Hearted, or I am no one!” “Fine! But mark my words, a lady can be as fine a spoil-sport as any when it comes to these sorts of games.” “Shall we proceed, then?” “Yes, but the time we spent arguing doesn’t count! Let’s see . . . where were we?” “You were about to give me my treasure, as was our arrangement. Can I borrow this?” “Hey! Give me back Mrs. Nesbit! Mom!” “The gold for the girl. It seems a fair enough trade.” “But sir, I do not parlay with knaves, who hold a girl hostage and value her only for her weight in gold.” “Nice! Well I am no knave. And I do not doubt the girl’s value, in the right situation. Her hair is indeed very lovely, as of gold.” 12