THE FANCY DRESS PARTY

By Peter Bull and Peter Harris

Four short stories about people that have hired fancy dress outfits, and the unintended consequences that followed. All are unconnected to each other.

THE DEVIL

Bertie, who was in fact a morbidly overweight gay Vicar, thought it would be a source of Devilish fun to attend the party for the second time as the Devil himself.
The previous year, the outfit had fitted perfectly, but on the day this year, it was discovered at the very last minute that he’d gained weight to such an extent that getting the thing on was going to be a minor miracle in itself. Cancelling was out of the question as his partner was looking forward to the evening immensely. After many twists and turns, the outcome is hilarious.

THE POLICEMAN

Dave leaves it too late to hire the outfit he wanted, so is forced to wear the only one that is still on the shelf. Reluctantly he hires the Police Officer uniform with unexpected and potentially disastrous consequences.

THE NUNS

Three brothers who are in business together, plan a Christmas fancy dress party for the staff. They choose to attend as three nuns. All three of them are conned by a local man who is known to the locals as Mad Eric. He turns out not to be so mad after all as one by one they’re relieved of their money after buying worthless rubbish. The evening produces some unexpected surprises.

THE ACTOR

Ralph had always been a great fan of film and stage actors. He attends the above party and turns out to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. When he confronts three youths who have taken photos of an intimate nature, they see another side of him. A side that they would never forget.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9781447867265

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The week had been a miserable one.

Not only had the weather been atrocious but the ancient church roof had sprung yet another leak, meaning that the Reverend Giles Rathbone was going to be forced into going through the now well-known procedure of getting repairs carried out.

Previous experiences of the same problem were still etched upon his mind. It had not been a pleasurable part of his job as the Vicar of St. Luke’s.

Accepting the fact that it would be necessary to at least bodge the job until the next service, he had decided to get into the upper level of the cold and draughty church, to if possible, place a bucket, or some other receptacle that may catch the very unwelcomed rainwater.

His stomach rumbled at the thought of the effort that was going to be necessary to reach the underside of the roof. For the merest of time he considered ignoring the problem until after the next service, and he even went as far as to guiltily consider whether to work the job on to a choirboy who may be eager to please, but his conscience would not allow it after much deliberation.

The memory of his last foray into the roof area filled him with dread. He sweated at the thought.

At least that had been on a Monday, not a Saturday like today, where he had less than twenty-four hours before the Christening of the grandchild of Joe Arnold, the police Commissioner, who was also on the church committee. It was not as though he could apologise to the gathering for the unfortunate leak with the promise of it being fixed by the next Sunday service, as the leak was saturating the first two pews by the font, which made the repair in such a fleeting time, an absolute necessity.

His head was spinning as he considered his next move.

He had so much on his mind that he’d forgotten his own personal plans for that day, which included the collection of the black Latex skin-tight Devil suit with attached tail.

It’s typical. He muttered to himself as he looked up at the ever-growing damp patch which was now starting to bow.

"The only part of the roof which has a lower ceiling is over the font and those few pews.

If the leak had been anywhere else, I could have called someone in to fix it anytime next week, but no, it must be here, and it has to be now."

The forty-year-old wooden stepladder creaked as he positioned himself on the second step to look up.

I’m going to have to stand on the fourth or fifth step to reach that loft door. He thought to himself

It felt dangerous, much too dangerous for a fifty-year-old grossly overweight Vicar to be doing.

So far, he had trodden on the end of his cassock on each of the four steps, which made him nervous in the extreme, then as he slid the loft cover forward, he realised that on his last foray, he’d not returned the pewter pot to the loft, meaning that he now had to descend the steps to find it.

The rain was showing no sign of stopping anytime soon, in fact, it was getting heavier by the sound of it on the roof.

Giles made for the vestry, where he thought he’d remembered seeing the vessel last.

He could have kicked himself for not having returned it to the loft area, because there was no way on earth that it was never going to leak again.

Bingo. He called out to himself with a broad smile as the vessel came into view.

He removed the eight-inch plastic pot which was held within the vessel.

He then placed the pot containing his two sunflower seeds onto the outside windowsill.

There my little beauties. He told them with a smile. Have a drink on me.

Whilst carrying the pewter vessel to the stepladder, he remembered how he had struggled to heave himself up from the steps and into the loft area before.

Dear God. He said to himself quietly. Give me the strength to do what needs to be done today.

Reaching the steps, he gingerly placed the pot on to the fourth step whilst keeping his hands around it, then as carefully as he could, he started to climb the steps very slowly.

He got to the second, and had to place the pot one step further up. It was becoming a nightmare once again. The memories of his previous attempt were starting to come to mind.

Moving the pot up again, and taking another step up himself, the steps began to wobble a little.

Calm down Giles. He said to himself as if giving himself a sermon.

"That’s alright for you to say." He heard himself whisper back.

Realising that he was talking to himself aloud, and was answering himself to boot, the steps again started to shake.

I don’t like this one little bit. He said with a tremble to his voice.

Moving the pot up to the top step, he gingerly took another step up whilst trying to kick his cassock away from his footing.

He was three steps below the pot but couldn’t reach the loft opening yet.

Taking two more steps, he was looking down on the pot.

Very gently, he lifted it up and slid it onto the loft floor.

He sighed a sigh of relief. Thank you Lord. He said gratefully.

It was with the greatest of effort that he lifted himself into the loft.

He stood there puffing like a worn out set of bellows, having switched on the light.

It took him no time at all to see where the drips were landing.

It seemed to him that it was about one drip per second of time.

Sliding the pot under the leak, his mobile phone rang.

Hello Bertie. He said, gasping for air after his mammoth effort at having climbed the steps.

I’m in the loft at the church.

What are you doing up there? Bertie asked with a laugh.

"Well obviously I’m trying to get closer to GOD."

Well just be careful where you walk up there or you’ll be closer to him sooner than you think.

Very funny Bertie. Giles said with a laugh of his own. "You’re so witty aren’t you?

The roof’s leaking again and I have a Christening tomorrow which is right under the leak.

I’ve had to place a bucket under it. Well not a bucket exactly, but a pot."

Oh how typical. Bertie said.

That’s just what I said.

Really? Who did you say that to then? I thought you were there on your own.

"Well if you must know you jealous cow, I said it to myself, and to GOD if he was listening which I doubt, nobody listens to me these days dear."

"Of course they do. Bertie laughed raucously. I know for a fact that every time you say LET US PRAY, they pray for you to shut up."

Giles laughed at the irreverence of Bertie’s statement.

"That’s enough of that kind of talk. He really is listening you know."

Bertie ignored his warning.

Anyway, I was just ringing to ask you if you’ve collected your outfit yet.

Giles’s hands went to his mouth in shock. "Oh my GOD, what time is it?"

I hope you’re joking. Bertie said with a mild hint of panic.

No I’m not. Giles said loudly. "All this palaver has rendered me useless, I forgot all about it.

What time is it?"

There was a brief delay. "You’ve got an hour and a half to get there, you’d better not let me down Giles,