Previous Post     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Can’t even see the point of it,” grumbled Sir Mumphrey Wilton. “Dashed inconvenient.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“It’s a portrait,” Asil Ashling answered reasonably. “For posterity.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Posterity be deuced!” objected the eccentric Englishman. “I don’t have time to stand around posing for some effete artist to try and catch my likeness in oils. Things to do. People to see.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I’m your amanuensis,” Asil reminded her employer. “I keep your diary. You have a completely free day.” She smiled at the grumpy old man. “You retired, remember?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Got to see the groundskeeper about those squirrels,” muttered Sir Mumphrey. “And talk to cook.” He caught Asil expression. “Not about the squirrels.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh good,” Asil told him. “I was worried for a moment. But the fact is you have plenty of time to have your portrait done. And it’s traditional for the members of the Lair Legion, especially their leaders, to have their pictures put up in the Lair Mansion. You like tradition.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Photos,” Mumphrey countered. “Splendid invention.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“”We all thought you needed to be done in oils,” Asil responded. “Even Mr Garrick. He was quite fervent about it.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nobody’ll ever look at the pictures anyway. Not relevant.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“That’s not true. Lots of people peek under the brown paper to look at Lisa’s portrait. And CSFB! is always adding little bits to his own picture. And the books shown in the Librarian’s image change every two weeks.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Lair Legion should spend less time posing for artists and more time smiting the ungodly,” Sir Mumphrey grouched.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“They do,” Asil countered. “I bet right now they’re out there smiting like mad. But you retired.”     Mumphrey glared over at the worried-looking artist in the corner. The man took cover behind his easel. “Who is this chappie anyhow?” he demanded.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“He came highly recommended. Lisa said he was very vigorous in his strokes.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Speak up, sirrah!” Mumphrey demanded of the unfortunate man. “What have you to say for yourself, dammit?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Um…” swallowed the artist, “I like the interplay of light and shadow in your drawing room?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“What sort of experience do you have?” Asil asked him. “Apart from the big doody-head.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Er, I mostly do graphic conceptual art for, er, video games. Heroic video games. And I do lots of free art for the web. Girls mostly. Superhero girls.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“I see,” said Asil. “Video games and mostly girls. And that’s why Nats recommended you, is it?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yes. And Dancer recommended me too, because… er, she said I looked like I needed the money. I was in this café, see, and this waitress was trying to convince me to put her in a video game and I…”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Horse,” said Mumphrey.     Ã¢â‚¬Å“The artist swallowed hard. “I beg your pardon?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Horse,” repeated the eccentric Englishman. “Or hounds.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sir Mumphrey means that traditionally an English gentleman is pictured with his horse or dogs,” Asil translated. “Can you do horses and dogs?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“If I have to,” admitted the artist. “But, um, really I was just commissioned to do Sir Mumphrey. And not like I had to do Miss Waltz.”     Asil frowned. “Never mind the doody-head. Sir Mumphrey is a great man.” That comment led her to another thought. “Did you do Visionary?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Visionary?” the artist echoed. “Is he one of the Legion? I vaguely remember…”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“He is a Great Man too!” insisted Asil. “He is firm of chin and bright of eye and…” She trailed off as she realised she was describing one of Sir Mumphrey’s hounds.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh, that fake man?” the artist suddenly remembered. “No, I wasn’t allowed near him. He wanted to have some kind of computer generated graphic of him done.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Hallie did him?” Asil realised. “Oh, that’s wonderful! And he’s real, dammit.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Well, if that’s all settled I’ll be off then,” cut in Sir Mumphrey. “Nice meeting you, whoever you are artist fellow, but I need to take a look at the mowing in the north meadow and…”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Sir Mumphrey Wilton!” scolded Asil Ashling, “You stay right where you are and get painted. You know very well that you have all the time in the world for this. You could make time if you had to.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“But…” began Mumphrey before he caught Asil’s glare. “Very well, Miss Ashling. As you require.”     Asil turned to the artist with a look of triumph. “There you are. Sir Mumphrey is ready. He is completely devoid of extraneous horses or dogs. He is wearing his second-best waistcoat and he has brushed breakfast out of his whiskers. Also there is a pleasant interplay of light and shadow in the drawing room. You can start.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Er, right,” agreed the hapless artist. “Is he going to, um, keep staring at me like that?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“That’s not Sir Mumphrey staring,” Asil assured him. “Believe me, you’d know if he was staring.”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Waste of energy,” muttered Sir Mumphrey in the background. “Can’t see what all the fuss is about? And why does it have to be just me in the picture? Not done. Egotistical. Nobody to talk to.”     Asil laughed. “Fine, you old grump!” she told him. She came over and stood next to the eccentric Englishman. “There, now we can both have our pictures painted. Will that satisfy you?”     Ã¢â‚¬Å“Better,” agreed Sir Mumphrey, mollified. He barked at the artist. “Well come on then, chappie. Get on with it!”     Asil smiled again and began counting under her breath. She estimated that by the time she got to five hundred Sir Mumphrey would be sufficiently irritated that he’d be ready to come out of retirement and go smite the ungodly once more just to get out of posing.     She hoped this artist would work fast, whoever he was.     She had the Legion recruitment forms in her pocket. Artwork by Visionary; this story is dedicated to him in thanks Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2009 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2009 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved.

But I can't see the massive plot and horrible threat. You never do stories without them.