Faux Pas

In the grand hall of the Tudor court, stood the noble Earl of Oxford, the fourteenth such: Edward de Vere. Nervously did he stand amongst the courtiers, for this day was of great import; he was to present himself before the illustrious Queen Elizabeth I. His heart did pound, his palms became sweaty. His Knees grew weak, his arms heavy.

As Her Majesty entered, a hush fell upon the room. Edward stepped forward, but when he bent at the waist, alas! To his horror, a loud and unmistakable sound did rip from his bottom and echo through the hall: a rumbling fart.

A wave of mortification did wash over him. The courtiers stifled their laughter but barely, and poor Edward’s visage turned crimson. He straightened, avoiding the Queen’s gaze. He could not bear the humiliation, and he fled the court.

So profound was Earl's shame that he left England altogether. A time he would think to return to court; but a moment passed, and he remembered how his treacherous bottom had let him down. For seven long years, he lived thus.

At last, he gathered his resolve. All persons let one go! Daily even! All men err! If my good queen took offence, she has surely by now forgiven the error! It is time and more than time to put this shame behind me and return to court.

Ah, butt if only I did not think of behind!

The day of his return was filled with anticipation. The courtiers whispered amongst themselves, curious about the Earl’s reappearance. Edward entered the grand hall, his head held high. He approached the Queen. He, more nervous ever, and she, regal and composed as ever.

He bowed before her, the hall once again falling silent. Edward’s heart raced, but this time, he was determined to face whatever might come, albeit with his buttocks clenched tight. Queen Elizabeth looked upon him, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

The Queen was possessed of a razor sharp wit and could cut a man mercilessly with her tongue if she so chose. Edward shook, but stood firm. I shall not flee.

“My Lord,” quoth she, her voice carrying a hint of a smile, “I had forgott the Fart.”

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Word count excluding note: 366

Submitted on Friday 2nd August at 01.21

*Quick Author's Note*

First of all, and most importantly: thank you so much for reading my story! The ha'penny that Vocal will toss in my hat for your eyeballs landing on this humble piece will be well-spent.

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 215 day streak since 1st January.

Please do consider lending your support to the other creators who are also on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They are putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

Please do leave me a comment. I try to reciprocate as many as I can. Leaving a comment makes that easier.

The story behind the story: This is based on a true story. The Earl of Oxford did allegedly fart in front of the Queen, and was so embarrassed he ran away from court for seven years. I've never written a story in this style before. I'm positive it's sloppy to be honest, but I was just having fun with it. It's a fart joke, that's the (I'm not sorry) bottom line.

Thank you again!

Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed!

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