J. Donleavy - Schultz

Schultz on the aisle. Giving the pale as a ghost bridegroom the Woonsocket hi sign and then promptly tripping over an armorial emblazoned kneeling pad to stumble out of the pew altogether. Bumping into a naval suited disembarking reigning foreign sovereign. Who politely sidestepped as an immediate small commotion was triggered off among security personnel at the back of the Abbey. Binky’s face slightly blue with bottled up laughter turning to look back.

In the sunlight and blaze of cameras the newlyweds stood on the Abbey step. The bridge ecstatic and the groom stretching his neck in his collar frowning at requests from photographers to smile.

In a snug courtyard environ of St. James’s another cavalcade of cars disgorging. Schultz ducking out of his limousine, hopped up the steps to jerk thumbs at his carnation as the major domo stepped to intervene.

“Invitation sir.”

“It was destroyed. My carnation is the password.”

“Sorry sir.”

“Hey I got a right to go in there.”

“Sorry sir. Other guests are waiting. Step aside please.”

“Like hell I will.”

Schultz striding forth into the massive marble interior festooned with flowers. The gleamingly smooth staircase balustrade ahead between which guests slowly ascend. Schultz bounding up three steps at a time towards the din of voices. The blue uniformed beribboned commissionaire above on the landing. Jesus my name is going to be announced.

“Excuse me fella, you don’t mind if I just squeeze by incognito.”

“Sorry sir. I must announce you.”

“Whisper will you. Sigmund Schultz is the name.”

“I know who you are sir.”

“You do.”

“You’re Mr. Schultz, the well known impresario.”

With a gentle ushering by the elbow and friendly nod from the commissionaire, Schultz steered into the receiving line. Waiting behind a monocled Field Marshal who looked around once like I was trying to steal a decoration off his chest. Jesus but what a relief somebody at last knows who the fuck I am out of this fucking collection of big shots. No sign of his Lordship. Gloved hands held out. One lemony smile after another. The bride’s highly fuckable mother with a lorgnette, yet. And her lemony smile.

“How do you do Mr. Schultz.”

“Hi.”

“So glad you could come.”

Into the crescendo beneath this vast gold embellished ceiling. Wandering past the talkative little groups. Massive portraits around the walls. Whiffs of perfume. Clink of glass. Cutlery clonking on plates. High pitched vowels everywhere. Eyes looking down their noses. And Jesus christ right now the side view of my face is more than ever out of place. With not a single soul I can talk to. My god. Except that.

Schultz stopping stunned and transfixed. Through a gap between two naval uniforms, stood an awe inspiring tall tanned silken limbed ash blond female. Her fruity body engloved in a raw silk orange dress. Holy cow, now that is exactly what I’ve been looking for all my life.

Schultz giving his lapels a quick brush down with his fingers, straightening his shoulders and moving towards the lady. Just as four dark suited security men increased their speed and quietly closed in behind him with a tap on the shoulder.

“Sir if you wouldn’t mind coming with us.”

“Holy shit when is somebody going to leave me alone for christ’s sake.”

“Now come along quietly now please sir.”

Schultz, flanked by two broad shouldered gentlemen, was led by another and nudged from the rear by a fourth gent and guided through the babbling assembly towards a distant door in a distant wall.

“Hey come on, don’t for christ’s sake exasperate me.”

“Quietly now please sir, we must warn you. One false move and you will be shot.”

“Shot. Hey come on. This is a joke.”

“Quietly sir. No joke. This way now.”

“What, are you trying to throw me out. Look at the colour of my carnation for christ’s sake.”

“I’m afraid sir, the colour of your carnation is a deeply suspicious shade. And we would appreciate your helping us, sir, with the making of our further enquiries.”

“Enquire for christ’s sake right here, I’m not moving another fucking inch.”

The bride in white silk, her veil held under a diamond and pearl tiara, stood a mere ten paces away, her hand to lips, as Schultz, wrenching his arm free from one dark suited detective, bolted. Knocking a high ranking clergyman’s champagne splashing on his black toggery, as a security guard made a grab. Only to rip open Schultz’s tailcoat seam down the back as he spun around loose in a move practised from previous unwanted apprehensions.

“I say there, stop sir, stop.”

Schultz sailing through a group of pages and bridesmaids and across an open space on the parquet. Chased by the detective who’d taken up the rear of the proceedings and who now flung himself in a horizontal rugby tackle to hit Schultz from behind just below the knees. Both engripped bodies flying face first across the polished floor amid the oooing and ahhhing of the rapidly space making guests. Schultz’s head coming to rest face up between the feet of a tall languid pink Chantilly lace encrusted lady lifting her lorgnette and eyebrows, staring down.

“Dear me, the incredible cheek of gatecrashers these days. It does make one yearn. Doesn’t it. For previous and more decent times.”

Madam

I couldn’t

Agree with you

Fucking more

At the commotion on that fatal mid day, Binky had in an ante room excused himself from his Lordship’s presence, being as his Royal Grace was more than surrounded by two of London’s leading dentists both trying to get a good look with pencil torches into his Lordship’s mouth as well as a throat specialist peeking into his Lordship’s trachea where it was believed a toothbrush bristle lay lodged.

Binky spying the altercation just a mere thirty yards away near the room’s main vast rose marble chimneypiece, hurriedly made his way through the nearly hysterically animated assemblage, while bracing himself to dispense suitable vowels to quell whatever disquiet had arisen. Until catching sight of the starring participant. Binky’s striped trousered knees buckling, his elbows gathering tightly into his ribs as his sides helplessly split with a silently cataclysmic laughter.

An apprehended red faced Schultz nailed to the floor by several knees. A detective’s hand over his mouth, an arm across his throat, feet shaken out of his shoes, one toe twitching whitely out of a considerable hole in his black sock. Binky’s pained face, eyebrows contorted to erase the glee, his hands held limp and helpless as he struggled walking backwards further and further away from the pinioned Schultz who at last managed to sink his teeth into one of the detective’s fingers as both of them howled out loud.

“Binky, Binky, for christ’s sake this isn’t funny, get them off, they’re trying to castrate me.”

Binky, mirth exploding through his teeth, taking a deep lungful of air and finally rigidly straightening his back to slowly march, chin raised with parade ground splendour, towards the pinioned Schultz. To stand tiptoe over him.

“My dear chap I have never seen you before in my life.”

“I swear Binky I’ll never forgive you for this.”

“Take the wretch away.”

“You son of a bitch, Binky.”

“And I must say to you gentlemen of our Metropolitan Police Force, such a splendid job you’ve done at downing this imposter.”

“Only doing our duty sir.”

The monocles and lorgnettes up over eyes looking distinctly the other way. A wide space opening wider around the red faced Schultz. Detectives lifting him by the armpits to his stockinged feet. As Binky feigned a presto pronto wide eyed surprise.