XXII – Romans And Faulty Plumbing

Dear Journal:

Well, there we all were, in a Spanish Standoff to be sure. The procession was at the top of the hill with the terminally upset Tribune, one enraged General, Caesar’s Praetorians, the band, and, probably, Caesar. Lining the ‘parade’ route were the Patricians, House Praetorians, and various and sundry deadly pets.

Something had to give. The Imperials caved first. The General was summoned to a litter midway in the procession where Caesar stuck his head out and began to talk with venom to the General. Those of us with good hearing could only make out scattered words in Caesar’s diatribe such as …crucify…your ass….kill…hang by the… And so it went.

The tantrum lasted several minutes and, when it was over, the General stomped back to the front of the line. The Tribune meanwhile had managed to calm down to coherency and was dubiously eyeing the street before him. He looked at the animals, they stared hungrily back at him. He stared imploringly at the Patricians, we stared back. No way was he getting any sympathy from us. Little #&@* had it coming!

It was then that the General reached the Tribune, grabbing him by the throat with one hand, and pointing down the street with the other. The Tribune’s lower lip began to violently quiver as he gibbered, nearly out of his mind with fear. Disgusted, the General drew his sword and pressed the point against the Tribune’s back. At this juncture, the Tribune was deprived of any choices except ‘forward’.

The procession started forward once more, the now nearly hysterical Tribune leading the way. Down the hill they went. All was quiet. Nothing greeted the Tribune except rows of glares from hostile, but docile, animals. It was toward the end of the trek down the hill that the next incident occurred.

In the last villa, before the street ran down to the old town, lived a Senator so old that no one could ever remember the fellow as a young man. The Lady herself had remarked that he had been an old fart when she first met him in her youth.

As the Tribune passed the Senator’s house, the old guy popped up with “Hey sonny! Got a leak?”

The Tribune was totally mystified until the geezer pointed at the Tribune’s feet. Sure enough, there was a wet spot, beginning where the Tribune had stopped, and trailing back up the hill to the last stopping point. The tribune flushed bright crimson and, followed by the whole parade, ran down the rest of the hill. All of the animals rushed to the old Senator’s house to watch the retreating, deflated parade.

As soon as the last Imperial was out of sight, the Patricians erupted in gails of side splitting, uncontrolled laughter. People fell out of chairs, leaned against walls and fell down from the effort to restrain themselves. Hardly Patrician behavior, after all. I was told the Lady had to be revived twice she was laughing so hard. Well, fun is fun, but it wasn’t over yet.

Caesar had to return the way he had come. Oh joy!

Chapter XXIII

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