DC Legacy: Batman’s Butler #5
By The Poet 10 Comments
Boy, it's good to be back to writing...
Disclaimer: Part of the DC Legacy Fan Fic series. Writer does not own characters appearing here
Rated: E for everyone
- DC Legacy: Batman’s Butler #1
- DC Legacy: Batman’s Butler #2
- DC Legacy: Batman’s Butler #3
- DC Legacy: Batman’s Butler #4
- DC Legacy: Batman’s Butler #5 (This Issue!)
- DC Legacy: Batman's Butler #6 (COMING SOON!)
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Continued from DC Legacy: Batman’s Butler #4
Berettas and Lollipops- Part 5: Greetings to You…
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At the same time, across an ocean and a bit of land, a party was going on. This party was hosted by the illustrious Lillian Hellman. Miss Hellman had wild brown hair and a creative sparkle in her eye which suited her playwright occupation. This night, however, she was not spinning plays with her thorough mind, but rather relationships.
This night, Miss Hellman had decided to play matchmaker for a dear actress friend of hers. The actress’s name was Patricia Neal. Lillian studied the menagerie of dinner guests in her parlor, mentally going through the invite list for a suitable individual for her friend. She just decided to give up when suddenly, beside her, her friend spoke up.
“Who is that?” Patricia Neal whispered, pointing slightly to the other side of the room where a tall man was chatting with one of his fellow party guests.
Miss Hellman attempted to hide her smile by pretending to fix her makeup using a nearby mirror.
“Oh,” Miss Hellman said, hoping she didn’t sound in the least bit interested, “He is that writer fellow I was talking about. The one who’s been working with Walt Disney.”
“He was the one who was a fighter pilot who got shot down over Libya?” Patricia asked, without batting a single eye lash or revealing her true interest in the fellow in question.
Definitely an actress, her friend decided. No wonder they had given her a role in that charming science fiction film about the robot and the man from another planet, she thought lazily.
“Indeed,” Lillian nodded, watching the tall gentlemen work the room like a ringmaster.
“Charming,” Patricia said, and was then whisked away by another friend who had spotted the actress and wanted to congratulate her on the good job.
“Indeed,” the hostess repeated with a hint of a smile. As soon as her friend had left her side, Lillian turned on her heels and hurried to do some last minute alternations to the seating chart.
Later that evening when the guests filed into the Hellman dining room, Patricia Neal realized her seat was right across the table from the man she had been eyeing earlier in the evening. She sent a suspicious look in her friend’s direction, but Miss Hellman pretended not to notice.
Lillian enjoyed the party, but she kept an eye on the pair she had hoped to play matchmaker for that evening. The Royal Air Force pilot turned short story writer was the life of the party. He could talk to anyone about an infinite number of topics and he could spin a yarn like nobody Lillian had ever met. She suspected that, if he had told the party guests he had once had adventures with a giant centipede, they would have believed him, especially Patricia Neal, who laughed at every story.
Lillian was dismayed to note, however that ,even with her friend’s attention and her own strategic seat rearrangement, the former RAF pilot did not even look at the woman across from him, let alone talk to her. Lillian tried to not let this upset her evening, but when the writer had to pause a most unique story involving a man who stole umbrellas to answer the summons of a butler, she excused herself as well and followed him.
“Here you are, sir,” the Hellman’s butler said, giving the writer a phone receiver.
Lillian again pretended to fix her make up in the mirror while listening to the writer.
The writer hemmed and hawed until he finally replied the person on the other end, “Yes, of course. I understand. Not your best timing, but I’ll be there all the same.” He smiled and told the phone, “Indeed. Be seeing you.”
He returned the phone to the butler and then noticed Lillian. Without a question in his eye of why she was there, the writer went and embraced his acquaintance.
“Ah! Miss Hellman!” the big friendly giant grinned, a bitter-sweet smile on his face, “This was another wonderful party. I have been enjoying myself quite thoroughly, but some business just came up so I am afraid I must take my leave. Thank you very much for inviting me.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Dahl,” Lillian smiled.
The writer tipped his top hat, which had had retrieved from the butler along with his coat. He was almost to the door when he stopped.
“Oh, Miss Hellman?” He asked, turning around.
“Yes, Mr. Dahl?” Lillian paused in the doorway to the dining room.
“Would it be at all possible for you to send me the name and address of the woman sitting across from me?” the top hat wearing writer asked, a gleam in his eye.
“Of course.”
With that, the writer once again tipped his hat to his host and then left. Lillian laughed softly under breath as she returned to her seat. Roald Dahl was most definitely a peculiar funny man. Patricia Neal was certainly in for an adventure!