The Cabaret Incident

Filed under: Court Lore – Unforgivable Mornings. Counter-filed by Bunny under Complaints Against Fashion and Carved into his Book of Grudges with malice, stamped TWICE. 

Scene I

[Courtyard, early afternoon. The Queen has not yet emerged. The Court is quiet, recovering from cheese crimes and cocoa warfare.]

A sudden sound—a low hum.
Bass. Unwelcome. Infectious.

Disco begins to echo from the tree line.

And then—
He arrives.
Sir Reginald Fluffsworth, Esquire of Dusk & Disco.
Standing triumphantly in a golden shopping cart chariot, pulled by two confused possums in platform heels.

The cart? Bedazzled.
His entrance? Choreographed.
Behind him, five backup dancers in a dramatic V formation. Capes. Glitter. Someone’s definitely in a feathered onesie.

And then—the disco ball appears.
No one knows how.
It simply… materializes.
Spinning. Judging.

Bunny, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in stylish horror.
Clutches a martini so tightly the olive explodes.

“We have laws, you know.”

Emma places one paw gently on her spoon. Her war spoon. Her heritage spoon. It hums softly.

Archivarius stops chewing. A single page flutters from his mouth—Chapter 5: Burlesque Disasters & How to Escape Them.

Jack of Knives, leaning against a column, silently pulls on leather gloves. He is not amused. He is never amused.

Velin watches from the shadowed edge, expression unreadable. The Queen is not yet here. He waits.

Sir Reg twirls once, glitter exploding in a cloud behind him.
He strikes a pose.
Music halts.

She does not walk—she arrives.
Still in her throw blanket robe. Hair a poetic disaster. Coffee in hand. Eyeliner weaponized.

He gazes into the distance. Then directly into the nearest emotionally available lens and says:

“Oh… my darling lightbulb of twilight…”
“The flicker in my dusk. The switch in my sorrow.”

The silence that follows could curdle milk.

She stares.
At Reg.
At the glitter.
At the chariot.

“Say it again, Reginald. I dare you.”

Thus concludes The Cabaret Incident.
And yet…
he will return.