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.