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"Oh, hello, my dear!" I yell, slamming the doors open. Behind me three loyal henchmen of mine saunter in, each one of them carrying a gift. They get into the choreographed - and practiced in advance - formation and kneel down with my presents raised up. Only one of them remains standing, who plays a short but obnoxious trombone solo. "Your star guest has arrived!"
I fish out my invite from the frills of my jabot collar and lift it up high into the air, so my embroidered coat rises to reveal my dazzlingly golden belt.
For some mysterious reason, I do not hear the surprised - or perhaps awed - gasps of the crowd, or even a few guests - the room remains quiet.
Knowing my effect on any people blessed to see my beauty and power, I scan the room, checking if the guests have maybe gone mute from (positive) shock. Only to see that in the whole salon, tastefully decorated with pale blue, there is only one person aside from my graceful men and me - the birthday boy himself, the one and only, my undeclared arch-nemesis.
He is sitting on a wooden chair, tea cup in hand, wearing white pants and a light blue waistcoat. All alone. At their own birthday party. Oh dear.
"Am I the first to arrive?" I ask, knowing that I've been fashionably late to my own birth. He is aware of that as well.
He doesn't answer, instead turning his attention to the gifts lined up in a half-circle. If my men were any weaker, their knees would be trembling by now. But they are not and I will make sure to reward them for their perfect posture later. "Where shall I put my gifts, dear?" I hesitate for a second. "Or would you like to start with checking them for any safety hazards?"
"I'll see." He smiles and puts down the cup, rising from his chair to approach my servants. But he doesn't stop in front of any of them. He instead steps before me. He is taller than my humble self (even though I'm wearing my raised platform shoes, but I will not let that bring my pride down) and this gives him his most annoying advantage - he gets to look down on me, while I am helpless to do anything but look up at him to keep eye contact.
He comes a step too close and I have to keep my neck at an awkward angle to see his face. "There's a present here that is worth much more than any other," he says, looking at me with an unreadable expression. What? More expensive? Obviously, all of them cost more than what is reasonable (and probably more than what I would spend on myself). What does he mean?
He does not elaborate, just raises one of his hands and runs his finger on my golden, lavishly decorated belt. Does he want that? I can understand him, of course, it is one of my favorites as well - that is why I wore it to such a special occasion, the first time I have been invited to his birthday since I met him two years and three months ago.
I was wearing this exact belt that day, for the evening tea party of my brother-in-law's sister, when he walked into the autumn-styled garden. When he criticized my choice of beverage, argued (well) against my interpretation of a literary piece, and dared to imply that a certain actress might have a more luxurious style than me - even though I was wearing a gold embroidered waistcoat made of Vicuña wool and a flower-themed brooch lined with purple gemstones!
That was the moment I knew, I had found what my life filled with nothing but overflowing splendor needed: a rival. A true enemy. An arch-nemesis, to criticize my every move and make me strive to be even more bafflingly grandiose every day. He was the one.
From that day onwards, I found a new purpose - reach such a level that even he could not speak from awe!
So if he wishes for my favorite belt as proof of my never-ending loyalty as his esteemed rival, I shall give it to him as his most valuable gift on this day of his, even if I have to sacrifice the most loved part of my attire.
I knew I had read his wishes right when I reached for the buckle and he first looked surprised (taken aback by my unsurpassable generosity), then satisfied. He must have understood that I was willing to give up something I held dear to make sure my rival stays well enough to still try to fight me with his sharp words and condescending smiles.
Though I find it quite illogical that at the sight of my gracious gift leaving my body, no, at the sight of the receiver's gratitude, my men put down the presents they were holding and left the room with the artificial quiet only a well-intentioned, but hurried person can produce. They might think I was ashamed of my willingness not to disappoint a valued enemy! Looks like I have to take back their as-of-yet not given rewards for staying in formation so perfectly.
I took off the belt for him, but it looks like the greed of my nemesis knows no bounds. He is even trying to steal my coat and my silk shirt right off of me! I cannot let this continue without revenge. That waistcoat of his might not be expensive enough for me to wear, but it will be a perfect pillowcase!
Truly, there is nothing more important in life than meeting your one true archenemy. Wait, did he just kiss me?