August 17th 1994
I had stepped out to get the morning paper which was lodged, as usual, in the rain gutter, when Commissioner Sean Donely drove up in his Oldsmobile and parked on the gladiolas. Since they were freshly fertilized, I took him through the garden. Mr. Edward was on the veranda breakfasting with Annabelle. As we rounded the corner I suppressed the urge to shout "Cheez it! Da cops!" and instead announced, in my best butler voice, "Commissioner Donely." Edward asked me to get the Commissioner some coffee, but to my relief he declined. Word has it the Commissioner wouldn't know a good cup of coffee if you poured it on him. The conversation looked like it was going to be deadly boring (more of that incinerator crap). So I left them on their own and went back through the garden. When I got to the gate I found the Spencer's plug-ugly dog Foster, scratching to be let in. Being a romantic at heart, I opened the gate.

August 23rd 1994
One of the subliminal maids that hang around the mansion interrupted me while I was feeding the worms last night's leftover chateau briand. She told me that Luke Spencer had arrived, that he was looking for Mr. Edward and that she had put him in the parlor. I handed her the plate of scraps and went upstairs to find Mr. Edward. He was in the master bedroom, muttering something to himself about Lila's taste in ties. I told him that Mr. Luke Spencer was waiting for him downstairs.

"Well, tell him I'll be down in a minute," Edward growled, wisely tossing aside a mauve tie.

"Right," I agreed and went back downstairs.

When I entered the parlor Luke was leaving fingerprints on the freshly polished gun cases. I came a few steps into the room and announced, "Mr. Spencer, Mr. Quartermaine will be with you in a moment."

"Thank you, Jeeves," He said as I was about to leave the room. The sarcasm was unnecessary, but, by now, I'm used to it.

I turned back around. "That's Reginald," I corrected him politely.

Apparently he was in the mood for conversation with someone he hoped might be reasonably sane. "Reginald," he said accepting the correction. "Reginald, isn't it usually unwise to leave firearms within the grasp of children?"

Momentarily I thought he wasn't joking. Most people around here don't seem to have a sense of humor. "Yeah, well, there are no children here, so...." I started. He gave me a look that said I should rethink my definition of children. "Uh, yeah, well, indeed," I agreed, but resisted mentioning that his sister was the child that had broken the gun case.

I crossed the room and joined him. "It's interesting how different people are attracted to different weapons. Mr. Edward, for example, prefers the forty five. It's substantial, powerful, explosive," I mused.

Spencer pointed to another gun. "I would think Tracy would gravitate towards the Luger."

Remembering that strong-willed lady, I agreed. "Uh, huh, yeah. That would be her choice. It's cool, efficient, precise..."

"And practical," Luke added. "Given that this particular model still has ammunition available."

"How do you know that?" I asked him. This satisfactorily distracted him from asking me how I was so familiar with firearms.

"I know many things, Reginald," he replied with a mischievous overtone to this overbearing comment.

"Yeah," I said. He probably did know quite a few things.

Mr. Edward came into the room, greeted Mr. Spencer and told me I could go.

"Nice talking to you." Luke said as I crossed the room.

I mumbled in agreement.

August 30th & August 31st 1994, Morning
It was a dark and stormy morning. The Quartermaine Mansion resonated with the sound of thunder and the desolate silence of suffering. While I was passing through the gloomy foyer (attending to my many duties, which I enjoy greatly) the door bell tinkled. I had an ominous feeling that matters were about to take a turn for the worse. As I opened the door a flash of lightning silhouetted the visitor. The outline was unmistakable. "Why, Ms. Jones," I exclaimed. "Please come in out of the rain, which could flood the catacombs of Port Charles, drowning anyone in there like a rat."

"Huh?" she replied, unable to deal with realities that had not yet been introduced in her script.

"Nevermind," I said.

"I'm here to see Monica," She blithely announced.

Oh, yes, I thought gazing at her chest, I'm sure that will cheer up Monica. "Uh, maybe you should talk to Alan...Dr. Quartermaine, first," I suggested.

"Okay," she said.

"He's in the parlor. You wait here until I announce you," I instructed her.

"Okay, I'll go in and then you'll announce me."

"No, no, no, Ma'am. You wait here and I'll go in and announce you," I corrected.

She looked confused. "So, I don't leave until you announce me."

"No," I said patiently. "It's very simple. You just stay here until I announce you."

"Right. Got it." She looked very pleased with herself.

I started to walk into the parlor and discovered she was close at my heels. "Where are you going?" I asked.

"I'm coming with you."

"Wait here," I said firmly.

"Right."

This time I made it into the parlor alone. Mr. Alan was standing at the veranda doors gazing out into the storm.

I hated to disturb him, but the thought of entertaining Ms. Bobbie for another minute was too much for me. "Uh, Bobbie Jones is here to see you, Sir." Guard the gun case, I added silently.

"Thank you, Reginald," said Dr. Quartermaine. I left the room, barely managing to squeeze past Bobbie as she entered.

Afternoon
Hours later, I was interrupted while polishing the iron maiden in the dungeon, by the clanging of the door bell upstairs. Knowing that the Quartermaine family would sooner eat worms than actually answer the door, I cheerfully deserted my task and rushed up the stairs to let in the newest arrival.

"Mr. Spencer," I greeted him. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Always a pleasure to see you too, Reg."

"Right, whatever."

Luke stepped past me into the parlor. "Could you tell Alan I'm here to see him."

"Sure," I said and seriously considered getting the locks on the gun case changed when he started drooling over the weaponry, again. "Make yourself at home," I added, hoping he wouldn't take me literally.

I ran upstairs and told the weary Doctor Quartermaine that he had yet another Spencer guest.

I went back downstairs. "I told Mr. Quartermaine you're here. He'll be down in a second."

"Thanks, Reg," Luke replied. The familiarity made me uncomfortable since Mrs. Quartermaine had just warned me not to be quite so friendly with the guests.

I discreetly left the room and returned to my chores in the dungeon.

Evening
The dungeon was now sparkling clean and I was taking my daily ten minute break, so kindly allowed by my generous employers. I was halfway up the stairs when I heard the melodious chiming of the doorbell. I opened the door to a vision of loveliness. I experienced a pang of regret knowing that Lucy Coe had once lived in this very house, and that, alas, it was before my time.

"I'm here to see Katherine." Her beautiful eyes were shining mischievously and I wondered what was in store for Katybell.

I showed Lucy into the parlor and immediately announced her. "Uh, Lucy Coe to see MS. Ashton," I said, deliberately emphasizing the Ms., knowing how it irritated her.

"MRS. Ashton. Why is that so hard for you to remember, Reginald?" She snapped at me.

Witch, I thought with a B. "I'm sorry," I said insincerely. "Will Miss Coe be...?"

"Miss Coe will not be staying and neither will you. That will be all, thank you."

Ms. Coe and I exchanged a glance and I know we were sharing the same thought: PMS.

As I left the room I heard Ms. Lucy say, "Oh, boy. This staff must be ever so fond of you." I wondered if Lucy would care to be my date at the next "I Hate Katherine, Too" meeting.