Kanna-sama: I’ll save you the disgust by not saying where this absurd idea came from, lol.

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Rating: M for crude humor and language

Genre: Humor

Summary: The idiocy of a family during the medieval times. Humor. One shot.

Notes/Warnings: Crude humor; some British humor; one-shot; totally NOT historical

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The little boy that played by the butcher shop glanced down the road. At the end of the road was a tall, nicely furnished home where Henry Dubois, a Frenchman, and his family lived. His wife, Anne, was English and her dowry was the house and the large sum of money that came with it. Her parents were dead and so she was also left with their wealth. Henry was pretty wealthy himself, but enjoyed the gaming hells often enough. He was also beaten across the head because of it often enough.

That family, I tell you, the little boy thought, is twisted.

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“By God,” Henry whispered to himself, his eyes blazing as he stared down at the chamber pot in the middle of the room. “Where has this come from?!” He whirled around and glared, searching for an explanation. “Zut!” He kicked the chamber pot and it bounced off the wall and the contents came soaring to him. “YAHH!” He let out a shrill and gagged when some of the contents went in his mouth. Spitting it out and choking, sickened by the smell, he roared, “ANNE!!”

“Henry, my love, my love, Henry!” She called back, tittering in, holding her corset up. “I can’t seem to get this bloody thing tied up. Damn contraption.” She blinked at the mess in the room. “Bloody hell, Henry, what is this?! Where has this come from?” She paused, eyeing her husband with disgust. “Eww. What is all over you? You stink worse than your brother and he plays with the pigs every morning before coming to breakfast!”

“You left the chamber pot out!”

“I left the chamber pot out?”

“You left the chamber pot out!”

“I could not have!”

“You could have!”

“Impossible!”

“Certainly not!”

“I was trying to deal with my corset, Henry,” Anne cried, offended by his accusation. “How could I have left the chamber pot out?”

“Did you use it?”

“Certainly not, Henry, my love, my love, Henry!”

“Enough! I want no more of ‘Henry, my love, my love, Henry!’” He batted his eyelashes and puckered his lips as he mocked her. His voice was unnaturally high. Anne put her hands to her mouth, ignoring the way her corset drooped.

“Goodness, Henry!” She gasped, her eyes filling with tears. “When did you become so feminine? What have you been doing behind my back, Henry? Is there...” She sniffed, staring at him with teary eyes. “Is there another man?”

“You stupid woman!!” He wiped his face, glaring at her. “I was making fun of you.” She began to sob.

“You better not be lying to me!!”

“I’M NOT!”

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After Henry took a much-needed bath and dressed like the nobleman he very well was, he went downstairs to read when a knock sounded on the door. Sighing with a roll of his eyes, he sauntered to the door, opening it with a pleasant smile on his face. Then it turned to horror and he howled, “Qu’est-ce que c’est?!”

“Papa, why do you stare at me in horror?” The beggar child questioned, his eyes huge and pleading. Henry, with his curling mustache quivering and his skin pale, stared at him in terror.

“THERE IS ANOTHER MAN!” Anne cried out from behind him. Henry let out a string of curse words in French and started yelling at her. The beggar child stared at them in fear and quickly fled. That couple was crazy!

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Meanwhile, Henry and Anne’s children, Elizabeth and Pierre, were wandering the streets casually. It wasn’t yet breakfast and their parents, unobservant with all their problems, didn’t notice them leaving. Elizabeth, who looked like her mother, had blonde curls piled atop her head and her brother had his chin-length blonde hair tied up with a leather thong. Both had familiar pale skin and green eyes, their eyes that of their father.

“I am so sick of being stared at,” Elizabeth declared to her brother, who was a year older than her, at the age of thirteen. She stormed over to a wagon and climbed on top of it, kicking the old man off. “HAVE YOU GUTTER WHORES SOMETHING TO SAY SOMETHING TO ME? TRY YOUR WORSE, MY UNDERLINGS!! HAHAHA!”

“Sister!” Pierre scolded, glancing around at the horrified and pissed expressions. “Honestly! They’ll see your underwear if you stand like that...” Elizabeth blinked and blushed lightly, smoothing her skirts out and giving a sheepish smile.

“My apologies, brother and people. I meant not for you to see my underwear.”

“Ugh,” her brother groaned, “stop talking like that! You sound like a damned priest.”

“PRIESTS ARE NOT DAMNED, PIERRE!”

“Not the ones you’ve known,” he grunted, raising his chin a notch as she returned to him, tucking her hand in his elbow. He glanced to the side and grinned, seeing a priest. He slapped him on the butt, making the man yelp and flush at Pierre’s wink. Elizabeth was oblivious, just like her mother so often was. “Anyway...Where are we going?”

“Well, is it almost time for breakfast?” They both tilted their heads back and stared at the cloudy sky for a long five minutes. “...Hm. The sun seems not to want to come here today...”

“Oh, would you stop speaking that way, Liz?” Pierre groaned dramatically. “I’m so sick of it!”

“Shut up, Pierre!”

“You shut up before I slap you with my – ” She slapped him across the face with her gloves, which was what he had been reaching for. He gawked at her. “You did not just do that, sister!”

“I did, brother!”

“How dare you treat a man in such a way?”

“WHAT? ARE WE WOMEN TO DO WHATEVER YOUR GENDER WISHES? I DEFY SUCH A RULE!” (Voila, the first feminist.)

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH, FEMALE!”

“Hey, you kids!” A peddler snapped. “I’m tryin’ to concentrate, can’t’cha see??”

“Oh, I do beg your pardon, sir,” Elizabeth apologized, curtsying.

“My pardon, as well, sir,” Pierre added, bowing. The peddler shook his head as they moved towards home, Pierre saying, “Now, what were we speaking of, Liz?”

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“Brother, why must you come to the table smelling so?” Anne questioned, sighing. Henry’s brother, Peter, gave a puzzled look to his sister-in-law.

“What do you mean, Anne?” He questioned politely.

“You are filthy!”

Sincerely offended, he gasped, “I am not!”

“You are, too, Peter!” Anne insisted.

“The laundry lady thought I was dirty,” he remarked, frowning, “but she was talking about how I had sex with her.” Henry choked and spewed wine in his daughter’s face.

“PAPA!” Elizabeth snapped.

“WE WILL HAVE NO TALK OF SEX AT THE TABLE!” Henry snapped, slapping his hands down on the table.

“Why?” Pierre questioned in a bored tone as Elizabeth wiped her face. “We have sex with people on the table.”

“I don’t,” Elizabeth scoffed.

“Have we done that yet, Henry, my love, my love, Henry?” Anne asked thoughtfully.

“I told you stop saying my name like that! And I am not saying whether we have in front of the children or not!”

“Why?” Pierre demanded. “I am a grown man! I deserve to know things!”

“Hmm, now I know I did it with someone on the table, but I can’t recall who...” Peter commented, frowning.

“I think we did, Henry,” Anne said.

“Am I the only one who is not a pervert?” Elizabeth inquired in a smug tone.

“Oh, it was with Anne, that’s right,” Peter announced with a grin, snapping his fingers.

“WHAT?” Henry roared to his feet. Peter stared up at him innocently. “THAT’S IT! WE’RE DUELING!”

“I could have sworn it was Henry...” Anne murmured to herself while Pierre and Elizabeth watched their father and uncle with interest.

“We’re family, Henry,” Peter told the latter with a slightly anxious look. “Must we fight?”

“You bedded my wife,” Henry responded blandly, glaring at him with a cold look. “AT DAWN WE FIGHT! CHOOSE YOUR SECOND!”

“My second...? Hmm, that’ll be a difficult decision between Liz or Pierre.”

“Pierre is my second.”

“Damn.”

“Hey!” Elizabeth snapped, offended.

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At dawn, the four were in the gardens, Elizabeth and Pierre behind their uncle or father, holding swords. Elizabeth had hers thrust in the ground, leaning against it, patting her blonde curls. Pierre’s sword was lying on his shoulder as he watched Henry and Peter face each other with a bored look.

“Can we hurry up?” Elizabeth called. “You two have been staring at each other for almost ten minutes! I’m sick of it!”

“Fine, fine,” Peter grumbled. “Just be quiet, niece of mine.” She waved a hand dismissively and he slid his sword back and then clasped it with his hands just as Henry did the same. They let out shouts and ran towards each other. Anne, on the sidelines, fainted as their swords clanged.

Slip.

“Hahahaha!” Henry pointed at Peter, whose pants had been cut down from him. Peter yelped and dropped his sword, covering himself in embarrassment. “I win!”

“Only by a hair!”

“Whatever, I won.”

“Can I cut Liz’s dress off anyway?” Pierre asked with an eager look.

“No, you cannot, Pierre!” She snapped, huffing indignantly. “You should know better than to think I would let you ruin one of my favorite dresses!”

“Well, you shouldn’t have worn one of your favorite dresses.”

“Today I might have died. I had to die pretty.”

“Whatever.”

“Should we just leave her there?” Peter asked his brother, holding his pants up as the two of them stared down at Anne.

“The gardener will find her,” Henry said dismissively, holding the two swords. “I’m not in the mood to pick up all those petticoats, corset, and such.”

“Good point.”

“Hey!” Pierre called as the two left. “What about us?”

“...Let’s go find me a guy to go to bed with,” Elizabeth suggested. “I don’t want to be the only virgin.”

“How about me?”

“No.”

“Damn.”

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Kanna-sama: Very pointless and very stupid. You can’t blame an authoress for having writer's block, though. Please leave a review on your way out. It’d be much appreciated. (Even if this was stupid.) Ciao!