22-04-2019, 02:59 PM
And all of them seemed so sincere! Not a single member of the crowd appeared to be rolling their eyes or to have shown up "ironically." Phones and cameras were out, but they were all pointed at him... holy shit! And SHE was right next to him, so HER, too! All the jokes about his age were meant in good fun, and the rest was nothing but love and respect for Grandpapa Count on his special day. Even people who weren't members of La Familia, which she could tell, because so few had shown up, called him that! Young and old!
And scattered through the crowd was the occasional sign or banner stating the holder or holders' opinion of Helen Parker of Anchorage, Alaska and her job as the provider of Grandpapa Count's orgasms. Vincenzo seemed to be deliberately not noticing them, but she was unable to do so. She looked at a sign someone had made from an internet meme of Grampa Simpson saying, "I'm not robbing the cradle, SHE'S robbing the grave!" One sign she'd seen multiple times throughout the day was a portrait of Vincenzo's first wife, Contessa Sofia, with a message expressing how the nation still grieves for her loss and wishes she could be here with Her Beloved Husband and Her People on this day.
Helen didn't know whether to take it personally or not that those signs made no mention of her whatsoever.
A lot of the signs held by boys her own age, and a few women too; were addressed to La Contessa and ranged from nice to flattering to nasty to offensive to vulgar to she'd have to remember to ask Vincenzo if he'd like to try it when they got home. She wondered what she'd have to do in order to get them to say as many nice things about her as they did about her husband. A few more seconds of reading The People's opinions of her, and she concluded that she'd probably have to get stabbed or something.
Helen reached for her purse to take out a cigarette, when she turned back to Vincenzo and saw his look. A look she'd gotten to know well enough to understand it's meaning entirely. "Helena, Fiamma Mia, I know that neither of us care to think about these things; however, I am old, and you are young, My Love. I hope you've been paying attention, because there are things that you shall need to know one day; and we can't always delude ourselves that we'll have forever."
She replied with the look that conveyed to him, "Yes, dear. And YOU know that I DON'T like thinking about that, and cracking jokes, preferably at my own expense, is one of my main psychological defenses; however, just because I was thinking up my next one does not at all mean that I wasn't listening, My Count. I'm a polyglot, listening's what I do."
Vincenzo made his final point with the look that she knew meant, "YOU are supposed to call me 'My Husband,' not 'My Count.'"
Helena wasn't done with the facial-expression conversation and came back with her look that told him, "Oh, yeah? Well, why don't you stop holding my hand, throw me down onto the seat, and remind me, Husband?"
His response was to turn back to the People and continue to smile and wave, thanking them for coming out to honor him on his special day and that he loved them as well. He then let go of Helena's hand and wrapped his arms around himself, giving a slight shiver. He nodded to Scappa to put the top up. The onlookers saw this and nodded, waving harder as they understood: Grandpapa Count was starting to feel cold and tired now and wanted to go home.
Word preceded them down the parade route, and although the People's cheers didn't diminish, they didn't take it personally that he wouldn't be doing any more smiling and waving at this event. They knew he'd appreciate it, even with La Contessa appearing to be wrapping herself around him before the windows darkened. No doubt, to provide the great old man with some warmth.
"The Count may have whatever he wishes on his birthday." was the last thing anyone outside might have heard her say before the roof sealed.
The parade carried on toward the castle.
* * *
And scattered through the crowd was the occasional sign or banner stating the holder or holders' opinion of Helen Parker of Anchorage, Alaska and her job as the provider of Grandpapa Count's orgasms. Vincenzo seemed to be deliberately not noticing them, but she was unable to do so. She looked at a sign someone had made from an internet meme of Grampa Simpson saying, "I'm not robbing the cradle, SHE'S robbing the grave!" One sign she'd seen multiple times throughout the day was a portrait of Vincenzo's first wife, Contessa Sofia, with a message expressing how the nation still grieves for her loss and wishes she could be here with Her Beloved Husband and Her People on this day.
Helen didn't know whether to take it personally or not that those signs made no mention of her whatsoever.
A lot of the signs held by boys her own age, and a few women too; were addressed to La Contessa and ranged from nice to flattering to nasty to offensive to vulgar to she'd have to remember to ask Vincenzo if he'd like to try it when they got home. She wondered what she'd have to do in order to get them to say as many nice things about her as they did about her husband. A few more seconds of reading The People's opinions of her, and she concluded that she'd probably have to get stabbed or something.
Helen reached for her purse to take out a cigarette, when she turned back to Vincenzo and saw his look. A look she'd gotten to know well enough to understand it's meaning entirely. "Helena, Fiamma Mia, I know that neither of us care to think about these things; however, I am old, and you are young, My Love. I hope you've been paying attention, because there are things that you shall need to know one day; and we can't always delude ourselves that we'll have forever."
She replied with the look that conveyed to him, "Yes, dear. And YOU know that I DON'T like thinking about that, and cracking jokes, preferably at my own expense, is one of my main psychological defenses; however, just because I was thinking up my next one does not at all mean that I wasn't listening, My Count. I'm a polyglot, listening's what I do."
Vincenzo made his final point with the look that she knew meant, "YOU are supposed to call me 'My Husband,' not 'My Count.'"
Helena wasn't done with the facial-expression conversation and came back with her look that told him, "Oh, yeah? Well, why don't you stop holding my hand, throw me down onto the seat, and remind me, Husband?"
His response was to turn back to the People and continue to smile and wave, thanking them for coming out to honor him on his special day and that he loved them as well. He then let go of Helena's hand and wrapped his arms around himself, giving a slight shiver. He nodded to Scappa to put the top up. The onlookers saw this and nodded, waving harder as they understood: Grandpapa Count was starting to feel cold and tired now and wanted to go home.
Word preceded them down the parade route, and although the People's cheers didn't diminish, they didn't take it personally that he wouldn't be doing any more smiling and waving at this event. They knew he'd appreciate it, even with La Contessa appearing to be wrapping herself around him before the windows darkened. No doubt, to provide the great old man with some warmth.
"The Count may have whatever he wishes on his birthday." was the last thing anyone outside might have heard her say before the roof sealed.
The parade carried on toward the castle.
* * *
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