“Ahem, ahem,” Monty said, tapping his spoon against a glass. The crowd of partygoers quieted down. “I was asked by George to make a toast to him on this joyous occasion of his birthday.”
“Here here,” some people murmured, nodding, raising their glasses.
“George is…. um…” He looked up at the ceiling, scratching his head. “Well, let’s see, he’s forty-seven years old today…” Monty said under a slightly red nose. “Or maybe 48.”
“He is…. well, um… not a friend exactly.” He frowned as he smoothed his mustache, mumbling this last part incoherently. “He walks on two feet and is a very good… accountant!” he raised his glass, and put his other hand on the table to steady himself.
“Indeed!” Someone whistled. They all clinked glasses and drank to George, and then shushed themselves while he continued.
“And….” he scratched his nose, “He’s… um…” His eyes lit and he raised a finger. “He’s a gontorlic trubution to society! Yes, that’s it, a gontorlic trubution!”
“Yeeesssss!!!! Here’s to George, the most fantastic gontorlic trubution to the world… The best! … and to more champagne!” The party erupted.
George spent a quiet evening at home, happily sorting his silverware tray. No one noticed he was a no-show at his own party.
== 212 words ==
Thanks to summerstommy2 for hosting Tale Weaver #17 – Making Sense Of Nonsense – Gontorlic Trubutions. He presents us with a nonsense phrase and asks us to write a tale based upon it. Please TAG your post: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Tale Weaver. Add your link to the MLMM image below. In case the tale weaver gremlins are at work, please link back to this post, as well.