The Marchesa Casati, by Giovanni Boldini
Marchesa: “Ahh just me and my fine, black dogs today, how fun.”
Dog 1: Hey, I know what we could do! We could update your facebook, maybe add all the new books you have read lately like that new horridly misleading John Grisham novel about spies, or the Mata Hari thriller.”
Marchesa:”Dear me, you are quite the wellspring of education, maldito hijo de puta.”
Dog 1: “When you argue in an Oriental language it is near impossible to understand you. It’s quite becoming.”
Dog 2: “Oh, Mistress Marchesa, I have a better idea. Why don’t we write our own book and make it available for all our, I mean your, friends. Something like “Chameleon Shifters are the New Bildebergs: Tales from the Black Box”
Marchesa: “Well, I must not reveal my employers name too blatantly. I must name it “Tales from the Black Box: A Chameleon in the Big City. Speaking of which, I must go now.”
Dog 1: “Are you joking? You’re hardly discreet in that outfit. You do realize that in America Lincoln has already been shot and buried?”
Marchesa: “What do you know of being a ‘shifter? I have to make an appearance at the Intercontinental this afternoon. What am I supposed to wear–a jumper?”
She began to laugh in a manner strikingly similar to a seal.
Dog 1: No, but something that allows people to think you kiss babies rather than stuff them.
Dog 2: “Just be thinking about that book. I think Chapter One could be about the time that you got lost in a Polish village. While wandering around you stumbled upon a little old lady who thought you were the prettiest thing she had ever seen, not guessing you had just assassinated the entire bevy of church deacons and archbishops. If I remember correctly, within two weeks you had mastered the language, wooed a descendant of the Hapsburgs, and used their funds to return home to us. I remember how lonely and cold those days were without you,” he said furrowing his brow.
Marchesa: “I’m going to be late. Can’t have them thinking that I was busy taping a wire to my chest or making illicit phone calls now can I? Ta ta.”
“Don’t worry I’ll write it all up for you while you’re gone!” Dog 2 shouted as the door slammed behind her.