“Oh, Granny! You’re back from holiday in the Orient and I just know you brought me something simply marvelous. What’s in that darling box? Do show me or I shall be forced to chew my fingers to bloody nubs for sheer anticipation.”

“Yes, Mary, there’s something in this box I’m certain you’ll find amusing. You see, the ship was forced to drop anchor because our swarthy Greek captain locked himself in the loo, again, with a bottle of ouzo, a scullery maid and an eggplant, and refused to come out. We were near a beastly little island in the Pacific and decided to explore the beach for our pleasure, just to pass the time. That’s where I found these two running around, making quite the fuss, and I thought, “Oh! Mary would just love to have a matching set like this to prop against her vanity mirror! So I scooped them up and put them in my bag. They’re most exotic and interesting, though one of the little wretches did try to bite me on the leg. Have a look!”

“Please help us, Miss! An old, wrinkled She-monster with breath as foul as Godzilla kidnapped us from our sacred island and shoved us into a bag full of soiled undergarments!”

“See here! Stop babbling such nonsense, you two. Those undergarments were just a bit humid due to your abominable weather. Otherwise, they were perfectly clean.”

“Clean? They smelled of ‘old lady’ so bad that we nearly suffocated!”

“Oh, what cheek! Suffocation? I’ll give you suffocation. Carson, fetch me a bottle of lye!”

“Granny, they’re brilliant! Why, I could pin them onto that new ostrich-feather clutch Mother bought me in London, or perhaps use them as hair combs. Can I really keep them?”

“Yes, of course, my darling, but as you can see, they are as irritating as mosquitos and who knows what manner of diseases they carry? I do suggest you have them coated with wax or perhaps gutted and stuffed like proper ornamental accessories. I know of a perfectly splendid taxidermist in Ripon.”

“I don’t suppose you brought me a box full of interesting little fairy-women from Japan, did you, Granny?”

“Really, Edith. Do stop wheedling. Must you always be so competitive with your sister? You know that I already gave you a perfectly suitable present for your birthday last year.”

“Yes. Mice. Two brown, boring little field-mice in a shoebox. Mary gets magical miniature Asian people from mysterious islands, but it’s always mice for plain old Edith, isn’t it?” [sniff. sniff.]

“Oh, put a lid on it, already, Edith. Do you really think we expect you to care for foreign fairy-women properly? You don’t even know what such creatures might like to eat. You couldn’t even manage those mice Granny was kind enough to give you! I found them shriveled-up and dead in your room last week, for God’s sake.”

“It wasn’t my fault, I tell you! Those rodents would only eat Stilton, but that bitch Mrs. Patmore refused to give me anything except cheddar to feed them. Of course the miserable things starved!” [Buh-hoo huh huh-hoo hoo …]

“All the same, Edith, you’re not to go anywhere near Mary’s fairies, is that understood? Quite frankly, my girl, I wouldn’t trust you to keep the dust-bunnies in your closet from cannibalizing each other out of hunger.”

“Hello?!?! Down here! Please listen to us, insufferable aristocratic Englishwomen! We don’t think any of you realize how much danger you are in. Mothra is on his way to Downton and he means business!”

“Good heavens, that sounds serious. What’s a ‘Mothra,’ Granny? Do you happen to know?”

“Why, I haven’t the foggiest. The late Earl of Grantham and I once knew a Doctor and Mrs. Mothra in Punjab, but they were hardly the type of people to ever be received at Downton, I assure you.”

“Silence, O chattering Imperialist She-beasts! Mothra is the god of our sacred island –a gargantuan caterpillar that will wriggle across mountain, valley, desert and ocean to avenge us, laying waste to your ostentatious home and all who dwell herein. We have already summoned him with our telepathic bongo-chant!”

“Giant caterpillars at Downton?! I call that most unacceptable.”

“But what can we possibly do to stave-off the horror of such impending disaster, Granny?”

“We could sacrifice Lady Edith. Perhaps that would appease this Mothra-person our sneaky little bits of fairy-trash have so rudely summoned?”

“Fat chance on that plan, Lady. Mothra doesn’t want your throwaways.”

“Buuhaagh! [sniff. sniff.] Not even good enough to be eaten by a #&!*ing rubber bloody #&@*ing Japanese caterpillar-monster!!!” [Buhhaaghh!]

“Well that settles it. We have no other recourse. Edith, seeing as you are of absolutely no use to us whatsoever as a sacrifice, would you be so kind as to do the honors?”

NOOOOOOOOOoooooooo! Not the foot! Look out, she’s got serrated bunions!”

“OH! I say, Edith. Well done. Brilliant idea, Granny, but do you really think it will stop the monster?”

“Probably not, my dear, but you must admit it was rather satisfying to watch their little brains being smushed-out of their heads by Edith’s large and ungainly clodhopper. [sigh] At least your sister is good for something. Now … is anyone else up for a spot of tea? All this monster business has made me a bit peckish.”