Tamerlane finds himself invited to a high society tea with some interesting contacts.

In the garden I was playing the tart,
I kissed your lips and broke your heart.
You, you might've thought it was the end of the world.
    --U2 “Until the End of the World.”


I got the invitation and wondered “Who are they kidding?”

 “The H.P. Lovecraft Society invites Thomas DiOrio to a tea held at 2172 Blackstone Boulevard at 3 pm on Saturday, June 15, 2013.”

 First, I was a working man.  My weekends were busy.  Most of the time.

 Second, I didn’t have a suit.  Well, I did; the black suit I used for funerals.  I still needed a new shirt.

 Third…a tea?  Didn’t women go to teas?

 And lastly, the Lovecraft Society?  I knew what they were – they were a cover for magicians and mages, witches and warlocks, in addition to Cthulu-ites and other Geiger-worshiping types.  The worship of the Spaghetti Monster was just the tip of that iceberg.

 Maybe I didn’t have to wear a suit after all.

 There was a fancy RSVP card in there, and I could either send it to them or call the number at the bottom.  I got out my calligraphy pen and wrote out my name in fancy calligraphic handwriting.  I grinned – if they wanted to be fancy, hell, I could be fancy too.

 But then I wondered if that was presumptuous of me.  Was I insulting them?

 I shrugged, “So what if I am.”  I put the envelope on top of my lunch in the fridge.

The End

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