Page 240 of Storm over the Caribbean
“Why, naturally, it is…” I swallowed, tasting bile. Was I really going to say it? That horrible word, which would destroy the proper world order? “…equality.”
They all gazed at me, expectantly waiting for more. Son of a tax-collector! There truly was no way around it, was there?
“Freedom.”
Agh! This was torture!
Just you wait, dear wife of mine. Just you wait!
“The right to…towork. And…”
Just say it. You’ve dealt with this insanity for years now. You can say it like you mean it, just this once.
“…vote.”
Don’t scowl. Don’t scowl. Don’t scowl. It should be easy, right? You are used to showing no emotion. Or rather, not even having any.
So why did it suddenly seem so hard?
The answer to that came a moment later when the gaggle of women started cheering and chanting “Am-brose! Am-brose!” with my wife cheering at the front, giving me a thumbs up.
My hands tightened around the lectern, making the wood creak from the stress. And down below, hundreds of women were cheering and applauding, contributing to mine. If only there were a suitable outlet for it…
As if by providence, my eyes landed upon my darling wife.
Oh, right. There is.
Judging by the way she started retreating into the crowd, she knew exactly what my gaze meant. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t fast enough.
Shoving the lectern out of the way, I leapt down from the podium and stalked towards my prey. How fortunate that said prey happened to be not only surrounded by a thick crowd of cheering women who didn’t seem eager to move out of the way, but also heavily pregnant. In a blink, I had crossed the distance between us.
In desperation, she doubled her efforts to get away, and…was stopped by one of her friends grabbing her arm?
Hm. Maybe I wouldn’t drive them all into bankruptcy after all.
Then said “friend” stuck her fingers in her mouth and gave a horse whistle, attracting everyone’s attention.
“Oy, ladies!” she called out. “Listen up! Mr Rikkard Ambrose has given such a marvellous speech, why don’t we show our appreciation?”
Instantly, another cheer went up from the crowd and, in a flash, I found myself surrounded by a crowd of squealing and cheering females, pelting me with flowers and asking for donations for various feminist endeavours.
Correction: she wasn’t just going to be driven into bankruptcy. She would rot in debtor’s prison till judgement day.
“Am-brose! Am-brose! Am-brose!”
Or maybe I could simply ship her straight to Australia?
“Oy! Break it up, everyone!”
Never before had I been so thankful to hear the voice of the defenders of the law.
“It’s the bluebottles!” one of the girls in the crowd around me shouted. “Run!”
And run they did. The crowd began to scatter, fleeing before Her Majesty the Queen’s men. Some tried to protest, or even charge at the men in blue, but those were quickly taken down.
“Agh!”
“Let go, prick!”
