With Love and Squalor Feb 16, 2010 18:06:51 GMT -5
Post by Tiago James Squalor on Feb 16, 2010 18:06:51 GMT -5
With Love and Squalor
With Love and Squalor notes:
*This fanfiction was written for Daniel Handler, and my contribution to his gift.
*It can be classified under the Jesmé ship.
*There is no use of curse words or profanity, although there is sexual reference warranting a PG-13 rating.
A fanfic by Tiago Squalor, dedicated to Daniel Handler
‘So he has breakfast everyday at 141 Dark Avenue, Veritable French Diner, huh?’ – Esmé Gigi Geniveve Salinger put down the letter from her reporter contact inside The Daily Punctilio. Esmé had been instructed to meet, seduce, and use whatever means necessary to gain access to the penthouse apartment of 667 Dark Avenue. She was determinate, and wanted to please her boyfriend and old dramatic arts professor. Esmé sat at the table of Café Salmonella, her favorite restaurant at the time.
‘This mission requires only the most in outfit, and make-up. I’ll have to do my hair too.’ – Esmé was a very attractive woman and she knew it. This mission was going to be piece of cake. That man, Jerome Squalor, would fall for her, right where she wanted. Esmé was a spider, and Jerome, the fly, trapped in the spider web. She surely was content to have contacted that silly reporter that was also president of her old fan club. She was a pain, but useful. Esmé knew The Daily Punctilio could be trusted. The infiltration idealized by that woman with hair but no beard and the man with beard but no hair had been a great success, and they could use the paper to destroy and hunt down those fool volunteers.
Esmé left for 713 Dark Avenue, the home of the House of In boutique, which was very in at the moment. Her fashion designing friends always provided her with the most in outfits, as Esmé was not only the city’s sixth-most important financial advisor, as she was also a famed actress, and it made the House of In look good in the fashion world.
‘So, what is in right now?’ – she asked her fashion designer friend.
‘Pinstripe suits. We have the best selection here at the boutique, Esmé, and we saved them all for you.’
Esmé bought many pinstripe suits and returned to her apartment, and decided to wear the in-est one to meet Jerome Squalor. She knew exactly what she was going to do, if the man was as Geraldine had told her he was. The next day, Esmé woke up, took a shower and got dressed. After applying her in make-up, Esmé took the elevator and told her driver to head for 141 Dark Avenue stat.
Veritable French Diner, 141 Dark Avenue, was a very in restaurant, and she appreciated that Jerome Squalor frequented the place, because that meant he was really rich. Only the richest people could afford to frequent it, and Esmé was satisfied to know that she was rich enough to do so, and that if her plan worker, she would be even richer.
Esmé entered the restaurant, and saw a handsome man drinking an aqueous martini, which Esmé really appreciated; aqueous martinis were very in at the moment. She decided to approach him right away.
‘Hello, Mr. Squalor.’ – she said, when she was standing next to him.
Jerome looked surprised to be approached by someone, apparently, he was always alone during his breakfasts.
‘Hello. Have we met before, Miss…’
‘Esmé Gigi Geniveve Salinger. I am the city’s sixth-most financial advisor, as you may know.’ – Esmé pointed to the Punctilio laying on the table. Esmé had a financial advisory column in the paper called Money is Always In.
Jerome gently shook hands with her and kissed her hand. Esmé was pleased; what man would not appreciate being approached by someone such as her?
‘I understand you recently purchased the penthouse at 667 Dark Avenue, am I correct?’ – Esmé sat at the table. She was a vision in pinstripe.
‘Oh, yes. A friend of mine insisted that it was once in a lifetime opportunity, so I did. Are you also interested in real estate?’
‘Yes, I am. I’d just love to take a look at your apartment, Mr. Squalor, if you would have me. I always wanted to see what the city must look like from all the way up there.’
‘Oh, of course. You can visit me anytime, I’ll be happy to show you around that place. It’s so big sometimes I get lost for hours.’
‘Could I visit…today?’
‘Today?’ – Jerome asked, a bit surprised.
‘Yes. Today. You see, Mr. Squalor…’
‘Oh please, call me Jerome.’
‘Alright then, Jerome.’ – Esmé then used her secret weapon, her trademarked seduction look. She slightly opened her mouth, and looked at Jerome as if he were the last bottle of cola in the desert. She demonstrated with every cell of her body what she intended to do. And Jerome perceived it, because immediately invited her over to 667 Dark Avenue.
The two spent the afternoon walking around the enormous penthouse. Jerome was the perfect host, and did everything to please his guest. Finally then they sat down in one of the many living rooms of the apartment to have wine and talk.
The next day, Esmé had succeeded. The two had spent the night together.She awoke next to Jerome, in one of the bedrooms of the apartment, and had to contain a shriek of triumph to not wake him up. She put on her robe and approached the window, overlooking the city, sixty six stories below. It looked peaceful, and Esmé was disturbed by this.
When Jerome woke up, Esmé brought up the subject of marriage.
‘Marry you?’ – Jerome finally asked after nearly choking on a piece of french toast.
‘But Jerome, we did already have our wedding night, haven’t we? I think we are destined for each other. It was destiny that led me to you, and I won’t let you go quite so easily.’ – she seemed decided.
‘Well, I don’t want to argue…’
‘So don’t!’ – she said.
‘Fine then. I’ll buy a ring and send a letter to the Vineyard of Fragrant Drapes, I heard it’s very in to get married there.’
‘Please ask them if they have a sugar bowl in your letter.’
‘A sugar bowl?’
‘Yes. Oh, Jerome, I’m so happy that we are getting married. I know we only spent one night together, but I know it will be the first of many more that are to come.’
‘Really? Many more?’
‘Why, yes…’ – she caressed his face with her hand.
‘I’ll write that letter now, Esmé. I think you are the one!’ – and he quickly rushed out of the room, towards the adjacent office.
Esmé had triumphed. She grabbed the telephone and dialed that number she had memorized so well.
‘It’s done’, she said on the phone, and cackled like she never cackled before.