I'm having a bit of a moment, friends. A moment that resulted in this cracked out story based on The Unexpected Party chapter of the The Hobbit.
"Hello Mrs…oh Mrs. Hughes!" Carson hadn't even recognized the woman at the door. He knew she'd gone out to run an errand in the village that afternoon, but she returned looking very strange indeed. There wasn't anything obviously different about her except…
"That's a rather odd hat." he remarked. It certainly wasn't her usual one. Black and very pointed, with a wide brim. It didn't look like any hat he'd ever seen.
"Is it, Mr. Carson?" she said cheerfully, removing hat from her head. "Perhaps you are not up to date on the latest fashions?"
"Perhaps," he said, thinking that neither was she usually. "Anyways, I wanted to speak to you about finding a replacement for Alfred."
"I'll see to placing an advertisement, just as soon as I've gotten in the door."
"Very well then."
As she disappeared down the hall he mentally cursed himself. Why did he agree to let her see to the advertisement? Knowing her, she would just take it as an opportunity to ensure Moseley was the only one that answered the ad. Bah! He would have to see to it himself later.
After their brief interaction Carson promptly forgot all about hiring a footman for the next few days. He didn't mention it again, and Mrs. Hughes privately chuckled at him as she scrawled out a note on fresh sheet of paper. She donned her little pointed hat and walked out to the end of the drive to affix it to the gate. A proper invitation, that ought to do the trick.
The sign on the gate was concise and to the point. "WANTED: New footman. Plenty of excitement and reasonable reward."
A young man in an oversized coat inspected the neat script of the sign carefully. "Seems to be the place lads," he declared to his comrades. There was a jovial murmur of agreement and they descended upon the house with great aplomb.
It was late evening when the back door bell rung. Now who could that be at this hour? thought Carson to himself.
He opened the door to find a large group of decidedly short young men staring up at him.
"Albert, at your service!" said the first one, pushing past him.
"Now wait just a minute-"
"Hello! Eric at your service," piped up the next one already halfway through the doorway.
The lot of them chimed in as they piled into the house: "Fred and Ed, at your service! Matthew! Mark! Luke! John! Wilbur, William and Willie! At your service!"
"And I!" said the last one in a deep voice that seem to contradict his small stature, "am Theodore!"
Mr. Carson was aghast. "What in damnation do you think you're doing?!"
"Mr. Carson?" came a woman's voice, "Oh! I see they've arrived already."
He rounded on Mrs. Hughes, his face like thunder, "did you have anything to with THIS?"
"Of course. You wanted a new footman. I've sorted out the applicants and here they are."
His eyes bulged out. "Why? How- what-" He couldn't decided what he wanted to say first. Finally he settled on: "WHY are they all so short!?"
"You complained when we hired Alfred because he was over six foot. These fellows are all under six foot. I thought you'd be pleased."
"They're all under five feet!"
Mrs. Hughes shrugged. "So I exceed expectations."
"What do you expect me to do with them?" he sputtered.
"Let them serve of course," she said, as if she speaking to a particularly dull child, "and pick one to replace Alfred." She gave him a brief pat on the shoulder and ducked back inside.
"All of them?" he hollered after, bewildered.
"Why ever not, Mr. Carson?" she called merrily over her shoulder.
It was chaos. It was pandemonium. Let them serve indeed. They piled into the servants hall, all talking excitedly and not listening to him at all.
"Now see here," said Mr. Carson, trying and failing to command their attention. "You cannot possibly serve as we haven't liveries to-"
"Have you any supper, Mr. Carson?" interrupted one of them. Mark, he thought maybe. The rest of them chimed in their agreement.
"Yes, I'm awfully hungry."
"You're always hungry!"
"Anything to eat?"
Daisy and Mrs. Patmore, who had been watching the scene with amusement, leapt at the possibility. "Surely we ought to give them something to eat Mr. Carson? For their trouble," insisted Daisy.
They are only going to cause ME trouble, thought Mr. Carson. "I have to get upstairs or supper will be late!" he sputtered.
"If there's no food, we could come up and help you, Mr. Carson," suggested Theodore pointedly.
"No!" cried Carson, mortified at the idea that the family might catch wind of them all being in the house. "You lot stay right where you are! Mrs. Patmore some food and drink all around if you please."
"Very well," said Mrs. Patmore. From the kitchen Mrs. Hughes shot the cook an amused look.
Muttering incomprehensibly Carson stormed upstairs. He had a dinner to see to. The little gang gave him a smattering of applause as he left.
"Some cake please, Mrs. Patmore?" asked Theodore hopefully.
"And tea!" piped up Albert.
"Red wine for me," said Theodore.
"And raspberry jam and apple tart if you've got it," said Wilbur.
"And minced pie and cheese," said William.
"And some eggs and a bit of salad," said Willie.
"Alright! Alright!" cried Mrs. Patmore, "I'll see what I can do."
Mrs. Patmore turned to Mrs. Hughes, who held up the store cupboard key. "Already open," she mouthed to the overwhelmed cook.
The twelve potential footmen entertained themselves with loud and enthusiastic conversation. Somehow or another they all appeared to know each other. It seemed that Fred and Ed were brothers and William, Wilbur and Willie all cousins. As Daisy and Mrs. Patmore brought out plate after plate of food it became apparent that they have voracious appetites. Mrs. Hughes took a cup of tea in the corner, watching contently and occasionally remarking on the gossip a few of the boys directed her way.
After a short while Mr. Carson came back downstairs bearing an empty silver platter. He surveyed the chaos in the servant hall with dismay. He had half hoped it was all a strange dream and when he returned from serving dinner they would all be gone. But no, they were there still, and by the look of the table they'd eaten them out of house and home! What a dreadful mess!
"The family has gone up," he informed Mrs. Hughes, who was still sitting calmly with a now stone cold cup of tea in her hands. "Now we just have to deal with this lot before we clean up."
At his words, which he had not intended for the ears of anyone else, the young men all rose and began heading for the stairs.
"What's all this?" asked Mr. Carson.
Theodore cleared his throat. "Time to clean up isn't it? And that's what we're here for, to show off our skills."
After the absolutely disaster they'd made of the servants hall, Carson didn't trust them with a rusty spoon, let alone the upstairs dishes. "Now wait just a minute!"
"Never fear Mr. Carson!" chimed Ed and Fred (or Fred and Ed, it was difficult to tell). "Just sit back and relax!"
And with that, Fred or Ed snatched the serving tray from the butlers hands and whisked it off towards the pantry. William, Wilbur and Willie all took stacks of plates and starting skipping off towards the kitchen. The rest all rose to their feet to join in.
"Careful!" cried Carson, as the dishes teetered wildly, "don't break them! I'll manage myself" The young men laughed at Carson's distress, and started to sing:
Chip the glasses and crack the plates!
Blunt the knives and bend the forks!
That's what Charlie Carson hates!
Smash bottles and burn their corks!
.
Drip the sauce on the Persian rug!
Tear the tablecloths in half!
Be sure to break the water jug!
And make more work for the laundry staff!
.
Serve pudding wine with the aperitif!
Splash some soup on the Dowager's head!
Be sure to give Mrs. Patmore grief!
Put any leftovers in her bed!
.
Steal the keys from Mrs. Hughes!
And kisses from the kitchen maids!
Footmen will flirt with whom'er we choose,
We don't always do as we are bade!
.
Scuff your shoes and don't stand up straight!
Scratch the silver and dent the door!
Once the butler is irate,
Pour the wine on his pantry floor!
That's what Charlie Carson hates!
So carefully, carefully! With the plates!
Of course they did none of these dreadful things that they sang about. Everything was cleaned and put away at lightening speed. Carson stood in the middle of it all, watching with his mouth agape as dishes flew from hand to hand without a single one falling. It was over in a mere minutes. The entire kitchen staff stared in delight as their work was completed for them, right down to the scrubbing of the servants hall table. When they were finished all twelve of the young men formed a neat little line in front of a speechless Carson, and a very amused looking Mrs. Hughes.
"Is that all?" asked Theodore.
Carson looked around at the spotless room. "I…I…yes, that will be all."
"Wonderful!" the Theodore exclaimed, sticking out his hand. "I look forward to you decision!" He shook Carson's hand enthusiastically, before turning to Mrs. Hughes.
"Mrs. Hughes," he acknowledged sombrely with a surprisingly deep bow. The housekeeper inclined her head slightly and the young man skipped away. Carson looked at her in wonderment, but before he could say anything Eric was shaking his hand.
"Thank you for your consideration, Mr. Carson!" he said.
"Yes, for your consideration!" said another.
"Thank you for your consideration!"
And Carson found himself on the receiving end of many more enthusiastic handshakes. Each of them thanked him heartily and bowed to Mrs. Hughes before prancing out the door. When the last of them were gone Carson was still well and truly flabbergasted.
"Mrs. Hughes?" he said shakily.
"Yes, Mr. Carson?" said Mrs. Hughes evenly.
Carson cleared his throat. "You may send for Mr. Moseley and inform him that he has the job."
If you are still reading, thank you for indulging my silliness.