Day 9: Definitely The Worst Party I've Been To

Today's stimulus was the first line of a play "Put the knife down Linda. Fine, I’ll tell you what he did with the apple!" and bonus points (that mean nothing) for using the final line  "Prawns, that’s what it was.". It was a lot of fun writing from basic starting lines, and this is one I'd really like to see what other people did. It seemed to suggest to me a moment of high tension ultimately ending in some sort of revelation around a mundane item. In less wanky terms a cheesy Agatha Christie style dinner party climax complete with horribly outdated attitudes to women, foreigners and homosexuals. It was a lot of fun indulging in such a cheesy, and vaguely offensive, style!                

                              Definitely The Worst Party I’ve Been To

                                                 By Jeremy Linnell

A elaborate dinner party, like something out of Agitha Christie. One of the guests is dead. In a panic the Matron Linda has grabbed the carving knife and waving it about, at Detective Rowlzner, at Doctor Proctor, at Father McInnery, at Sargent Plume and the Maid Kitty. The dead body is local business man Tycoon Floon.

Rowlzner: Put the knife down Linda. Fine, I’ll tell you what he did with the apple!

Linda: No you won’t. You’ll all blame me. 4 men, 1 woman I see where this is going.

Rowlzner: Calm down you’re hysterical.

Plume approaches her from behind, disarms her of the knife and, for good measure, slaps her.

Rowlzner: Thank you. Was the slap really necessary?

Plume: I’m courting her.

Rowlzner: Ah ok, makes sense. It won’t damage her will it? I need her testimony.

Proctor: No, in fact a daily blow to the face is shown to aid a woman’s constitution.

Rowzlner: Really….? Hmmmm

He thinks for a moment and then slaps Linda

Proctor: I said once a day!

Rowlzner: Did you? I wasn’t really listening. Sorry. Where were we.

Plume: This apple business.

Linda: Yes I want  to know how he died.

Rowlzner: You seem awfully interested in the death of someone you just met.

Linda: Well…I mean…it could be any of us yet.

Kitty: She bang dead man!

Linda glowers at the maid

Rowlzner: Are you telling you me you had *ahem* relations with the deceased Mr. Floon?

Kitty: That’s what I said!

Plume: Bloody foreigners. Send them all back.

Kitty: And you 100% British? Plume is Yugoslavian name!

Plume: Well I uh…uh..uhh

Proctor: Can we please get back to the matter at hand please. The dead man? The apple.

Rowlzner:  Ah yes…the apple. It was poisoned you see.

Collective gasps all round

Rowlzner: Yes someone gave poor deceased Mr. Floon an apple laced with poison hoping that he would bite it and it would kill him. The first part of their plan succeed.

Plume: What do you mean?

Rowlzner: I mean it was not the apple that killed him!

Proctor: How can you possibly know that?

Rowlzner:  Well I spoke to Floon earlier and I noticed he constantly fondled a gold crucifix. It seemed odd to me that a man so ruthless in his pursuit of power and wealth would have a religious bent. So I sought out an expert in theological matters to aid me. Father McInnery!

McInnery: That’s true. We spoke for hours, on many things.

Rowlzner: But there was one thing you told me that was rather unique wasn’t it Father. Don’t be embarrassed. You’re in good company.

McInnery: Recently Floon had become obsessed with self-flagellation. However due to his work, which often required him to dress and undress in front of others, he did not want any new, unexplainable scars.

Rowlzner: So you offered him a solution.

McInnery: As we believe sin originated from eating the apple that Satan offered Eve I suggested that perhaps by eating a poisoned apple might we taint the serpent’s gift and cleanse us of his sinful knowledge.

Rowlzner: Which it appears Floon took rather literally. He’s been eating poison apples since you had that conversation and built himself up quite an immunity. Thus it was impossible for him to be killed by this poison apple.

He sees Plume going to finish it off

Rowlzner: I said it was impossible for HIM Plume. You would certainly drop quite dead.

Proctor: So who killed him?

Rowlzner: All in good time my friend, all in good time. However attempted murder is still murder. So we must first identify the culprit of that crime. Which, really is quite obvious. Isn’t it Linda!

Linda: What? No…I….

Rowlzner: Don’t think I’d noticed your suspicious silence. You think panicking and pointing a knife at everyone would distract me? I know you loved him.

Linda: He was supposed to leave his wife for me! Bastard. All of you are the same. Empty promises and limp minutes alone.

Rowlzner: That’s enough of that talk. Tie her up. And gag her. I have no reason to listen to the prattling of a hysterical woman any more.

Kitty: So who kill Floon if not crazy lady?

Rowlzner: Ah well that’s simple. It’d be someone who knew about his poison immunity, someone who could talk to Linda regularly along and push her in to making her own attempt, someone who had been secretly admiring Floon’s body for years but knew due to his wife and affairs he’s never stood a chance. Someone who knew about his lethal shellfish allergy. Someone hosting this very party and could plan the menu accordingly, hiding the lethal crustacean in a simple soup.

Plume: You mean?

Rowlzner: Yes our poor, heart-broken fruit of a doctor, Proctor. I trust you’ll come quietly, like a gentleman of your disposition is supposed to?

Proctor: Of course. What’s the point? He’s gone. Maybe in the next world I can have him. Take me to the gallows.

Rowlzner: Prawns, that’s what it was.

END