Language warning... Sort of? Heavily Bowlderised.
The pony's steps seemed to take centuries to reach one end of the straight to the other. To be fair, Pre Pon Pon was trotting slowly and with style, but the lack of speed made IJ very nervous. Every now and then the pink ribbon tied round the pony's neck would swat him in the face (or, failing that, flutter around ticklishly by his ear, which might be even worse), and he could do nothing but put on his best poker face and grab the bit still. For her part, though, the boss' daughter seemed almost elated - sitting demurely on top of her steed, dress trailing down the sides of the horse, and a restrained smile on her lips (IJ thought someone must've told her not to grin too widely).
"Miss Dee Dum Dom," IJ began, a bit warily. The pink ribbon flew across his face again, but he ignored it perfectly. "Can you make the horse go faster please? I think we're walkin' too slow."
Donna Dona Dom's brows knitted. She turned her head to glare at IJ, but refrained from doing so when she remembered that she was parading in front of a whole crowd of important people. Instead, then, she started talking with only the slightest lean towards IJ's side of the pony. "My name is Donna Dona Dom, and she is Pre Pon Pon. Stop saying it wrong. You don't want me to call you Injun Joe, right?" the girl rolled her eyes, perhaps a bit too expressively as she felt a bit dizzy afterwards. "And no, I can't make her go faster. This is a parade, it has to be slow."
IJ shrugged his shoulder and cast his gaze downwards. "As you say, Miss D."
But after another thirty seconds, it became quite obvious that IJ isn't going to let the pony walk at the same speed all the way. Not because of the way he'd sigh loudly, or because of how his eyes would start drifting heavenwards in the midst of the cavalcade; rather, because when he thought the gesture would go unnoticed, he smacked the horse's backside with the palm of his hand.
And what a start the pony gave.
* * * * * * *
"It's all his fault!" Donna Dona Dom shouted, hands rubbing her reddened eyes ferociously. "He said we were too slow!"
"No, boss, no," IJ waved his hands frantically in the air. "I didn't do nothing to the hearse - horse! It jus' started running by itself! Right?" Here he eyed a greasy-haired man standing at the doorway. "Right, Mickey, you saw it, right?"
"Maybe," Mickey Falcone answered, almost lazily. He did not want to get into another of Indiana John's fine messes.
From the other side of the room, Don Donato Domenicano's voice boomed out (quite literally, because for a moment IJ thought he actually said boom): "You! Are a buffoon! Are you telling me that my daughter's pony just decided to veer off course and run into the audience by its own will? You son of a- " for a moment he paused, reminded that his daughter was in the room. " - Blonde!" he finally added. "You darned piece of poo!"
"A dentist!" the boss' daughter screeched out.
IJ looked quite offended. "Look, boss, I may be ridiculous sometimes, but I am not a dentist!"
"Quiet!" Don Don Dom roared, and the whole room fell into complete silence, one not even crickets dared to interrupt. "From tomorrow on, you'll wash the floors in this place!"
Glossary of La Reinaisms
Aheheh: onomatopoeia for a chuckle, esp. a mischievous one
Hurm: onomatopoeia for thinking; a standard reply when all else fails
Spam: an all-purpose word
This message was edited by the author on November 30, 2011 at 8:40:49 AM