Welcome to the first chapter of the stories I wanted to write but somehow never got around to.

Each chapter is a separate short-story (mostly the intro) to a story idea I never got around to write, and may never finish. Sadly.

But if you like an idea, feel free to use it. Some of these come with a per-sketched story arch, feel free to ask for that if you want it as well.

Or throw in a comment and vote for it to be written -and I'll keep in mind which stories people like once I have the time to start anything new.

Beyond that; Enjoy these snippets of the things that does not yet exist.

Keeping Up Appearances: Chapter 1 - The Storm

'...the storm is moving up from the south, and is expected to hit London sometime around...'

Richard tuned out the radio and focused on the road. He squinted against the darkness and downpour, and for the first time he considered maybe his wife was right about those glasses.

"Richard. RICHARD, STOP! STOP THE CAR!" a rotund housewife in a big, flowery dress shouted at her husband as he was driving.

"What?!" her tired-looking husband hit the break, and the car slid to a stop seconds before it hit a basket floating in the middle of the road.

"I swear you need glasses. You'll go see the optician as soon as we get back home tomorrow," the woman said, getting out of the car, struggling to keep her hat on and her dress hem down.

"Yes dear," Richard said with a tired sigh, his grey-haired head sinking down on the steering wheel. He could have been nice and comfy in a hotel bed now, but of course the only hotel out here didn't meet his wife's high standard.

"Look Richard!"

At the shocked outburst of his wife, Richard's head jerked up and he opened the door to see what was going on. He almost toppled over, and wistfully looked after his hat as it flew away in the stiff wind.

'Lucky bastard'

"What is it?" he said, turning to his wife.

"It's a baby! Someone left a baby in the middle of the road!"

"I'm sure it belongs to someone. It's probably just...blown off course."

"Blown of... Do you listen to yourself?" the disapproving voice of his wife came as she lifted the baby out of the basket.

The basket was quickly being carried away down the street, and Richard eyed with with envy.

"Well, what else could it be? It didn't come with the stork."

"Must have been one of those floozies. Running around and having babies they don't want, then dropping them in the street like trash. I watched it on the telly, just two days ago," she said, shaking her head in sad disapproval.

Then she started cooing the little green-eyed devil, tickling it like she'd once done with their own, spoiled son, Sherridan.

"Could have been left on someone's doorstep. Kid might have some family here?" he tried. He'd seen that look on his wife's face before, and he did not like where this were going.

"Don't be ridiculous, Richard. If he had family they'd taken him in. Not left him out in this dreadful storm,"

"We could take him to an orphanage?" Richard's tried hopefully.

"And let those horrible nuns raise him?!"

"I don't think they're run by nuns anymore, dear."

"Well, they're clearly not responsible people if they loose kids left and right like this, I won't have it," she said, finally giving up the battle with her hat to hold on to the baby.

Her hat flew away on the strong winds. How he envied that hat.

...And he just knew he would be the one to pay for a new one.

"Yes dear," Richard sighed.

Maybe she'd forget the hat to coddle the baby? He held the door open for her, almost blowing away himself as she seated herself in it.

"Do get in, Richard. I want us to get back home before morning. I have a bake-sale to go to. For the vicar you know,"

"Yes dear,"

Richard wrestled his own door shut after the wind nearly took off the hinges.

"Goochi-goochi-goo~ Don't worry, Henry. Mommy's going to take care of you."

"How do you know his name is Henry?"

"There's an H embroidered on the blanket, and what better name to name out little prince, hmm?"

Richard started the car and drove on, focused on his struggle with the road and storming rain.

"HJP," Hyacinth said, ignoring her husband's lack of attention. "Hrm... Well, he'll be Bucket* of course, so the last name will simply have to be changed, but what does the J stand for?"

"James?"

"Don't be silly Richard. His mother is a floosy! James is a royal name, I doubt she'd name him anything so sophisticated. But I suppose it's a good name for a Bucket, our family have always been illustrious."

A crackles of thunder swept across the sky, and then the sky tore open and the rain came crashing down.

Richard sighed and and turned on the windshield wipers.

It was going to be a long and painful drive home.

END CHAPTER 1

*"It's B-U-C-K-E-T, pronounced "Bouquet!" Hyacinth was always very clear about how it's pronounced.