Leavitt Stafford and the Awful, Terrible, Not Very Nice Plan.

Chapter the Seventh: Marigold's Frolic

Leavitt had finished the gruesome surgeries of the day when he determined that the time had arrived for him to temporarily abandon his life as Leavitt Stafford, and that he would become Marigold for the evening. Unfortunately, the sun had begun its pilgrimage towards the horizon, and he knew of the difficulties which women would endure, assuming that he would bear the appearance of a woman. If he did not bear the appearance of a woman, he would most certainly have the life beaten from him and be cast into a river, and Hell would await him. He knew in his heart that he was most likely destined for Hell regardless of when he would die, but he was unprepared for the eternal flames. It was likely that he never would be prepared for the eternal flames.

Within his bedroom, Leavitt had donned the dress which he had stolen from Magnolia, and he observed himself in the mirror. Though he possessed a peculiar fondness of this article of female clothing, he despaired at how tall he appeared and at all the womanly curvature which he lacked. Oh, he appeared to be nothing more than a man in a dress, and he would never fool the populace whilst he appeared so! Why had he not purchased a corset? He was a bloody fool to forget such a significant element of his disguise!

Though the hands of Leavitt possessed profound expertise in the profession of surgery, they had never before attempted to apply rouge to his cheeks, or to oil his eyelids, or to coat his lips in gloss! As he grabbed ahold of the face powder, he feared he would inflict the appearance of a clown upon himself, and that he would cause himself to appear even more of a fool. But, though he feared the consequences of his inexperience, he had to do what must be done, lest his schemes never come to fruition.

With a cautious hand, he began to powder his face white and dust his cheeks with the rouge. To his utmost surprise, this worked excellently, and the appearance of the rouge appeared as skilful as though it had been applied by the hands of a woman. Unfortunately, he still resembled a man in a dress. This would not do! He began to oil his eyelids, and he darkened his eyebrows, until he appeared perhaps slightly more feminine. Perhaps his careful surgeon hands aided him in his machinations, or perhaps it was some latent talent, but the application of such cosmetics appeared just as skilful as the rouge. He darkened his lashes, and he painted his lips pink-red with some lip stain. His countenance now resembled the countenance of a woman more closely, though he still feared the masculine shape of his bodice would reveal him to be a man. He placed the brown wig he had purchased upon his crown, and stared into the blue eyes of this tall hermaphrodite individual.

"Now I must send Marjorie on an errand so that I may escape from the house," Leavitt thought to himself. "Marjorie," he called from his room. "May you purchase some bread? I really do rather crave bread at the moment."

"But we have plenty of bread!" declared Marjorie.

"Perhaps we do, but I am currently in a most bready humour!"

Marjorie was even more certain that something was amiss, but she hadn't the faintest idea what the matter with Leavitt was, or which trouble he would assuredly encounter. Unfortunately, nobody would understand her intuition, for they would only trust what they could see with their own eyes, and they were blind to all that ripples beneath the surface of what one can see, and all which was elusive but which would indubitably manifest. Nobody, that was, except for perhaps the peculiar small man who had befriended Leavitt and who she had witnessed crouch walking across the living room whilst flapping his hands violently. He claimed that it was to help him to think, but could he be a madman? Though she feared him for his shockingly absurd behaviour and his terrifying coldness, he was also an intuitive, and so she had no other choice in the matter of discussing her fears.

"If you insist..." she told Leavitt before making her way towards the bakery.

Now the time had arrived for Leavitt to steal away from the household and to become Marigold, and so Marigold flung her bedroom door open before lifting her skirts so as to avoid tripping over then on her journey downstairs. She peeked through the window to ensure that nobody would view her departure from the home, and then, taking care not to twist her ankles in her heeled shoes, she locked her door and dashed across her garden and into the street, and she searched for elements of her surroundings to loudly complain about.