FEATLET

by Billy Dalto

Raynor Ganan’s sister, a fangast maid to be sure, has countless suitors but has promised her heart to only one man. And while the full orchestration of my courting technique cannot be publicly revealed, my interest in assisting an old friend in reviving an archaic word has compelled me to disclose but one chord progression.

Only a few months ago, I presented to Raynor’s sister, as a display of my wealth and thoughtfulness, a fine featlet made using rabbit milk. Because I am a gentleman, I obtained the milk by procuring a colony of pygmy rabbits and painstakingly milked each one myself. When I had finally collected enough fluid, I churned through the night, fueling my efforts with the occasional sip of nourishing rabbit milk from a tiny crystal glass invented by my great-grandfather, Tiberius Dalto, to dispense this very liquid. As planned, the fair lady Ganan was speechless but obviously smitten when she found me at her doorstep holding a fresh featlet in my outstretched hands.

I pray she never learns her mother once received the same gift.

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billy dalto is the president of a certain pipefitters union of which i am a card carrying member. he knows that if there is one thing that makes my kid sister weak in the knees—it is 4 pounds of rabbit butter. dalto lives in ville de bâton rouge and has a secret fetish for diatoms and algae of all variety.

this post is an entry in the word idol series. you can learn about this series here.