Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Lady Lynda, I fear for all our young men going

into football. Notice how they pat each other

on the derriere, pile on top of one another,

and what of the nude showers together. Such

close physical contact could only mean one

thing. They’re all “Queer”. It sends a bad message

to the younger players. I am so upset, I could

just fling myself into the Skukyl River. I am so

disressed. What think, you?

PSYCHO KILLER
Darlings this is Ye Old Hag, or as the Black Orchid calls me, Auntie Carol. I think of all my cases the case of C. Percy Newberry has the most dramatic and certainly the most lurid potential. And I shall read from my actual transcripts. Oh Lord, me, I do rejoice that my little business The PrimRose Detective Agency has grown from a two person office to a firm of over fifty detectives and support staff.

Just last week we solved a major diamond heist involving Nick, the “Butt End,” Aeoleo and his frightful paramour, Lucretia Le Bump Poo Poo. Two more nefarious characters I’ll never know, I deign to say. They were ambitious enough to pull off the robbery yet not smart enough not to use credit cards even with phony names such as Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I attribute this to the fact that neither of them watched Unsolved Mysteries or Cold Case Files on the television. Instead they watched the Jerry Springer show which gives no information whatsoever as to how to be a criminal mastermind. In fact one could say the thought process does not come even come into play in this instance.

Oh yes where were we? The heinous case of C. Percy Newberry. Oh, “murder most foul” as Hamlet would say. He murdered his lovely wife, Clytemestra, his partner of thirty years. They found her in the Italian market hanging from a meat hook with all the dead boar, rabbits, and geese. She was dressed in her wedding dress, with a look of absolute bliss on her beauteous Croatian face. She was impeccably made-up and coifed, and her pale luminescent flesh imbued the scene with a Madame Tussaud kind of effect like a candle melting in the darkness. She had black hair the color of a raven’s feather, and her alabaster skin had the faint tinge of pink on the cheeks like the dying rays of the setting sun. Her raw umber eyes glowed with a preternatural light like that of Ligeia in Edgar Allen Poe’s tale of the same name. Of course the major difference, I might add, is that unlike Ligeia she did not come back to life. Her full pouty lips inspired many men to bite them to taste the raw honey of her lust, and Percy hated her as he also loved her. Oh Lord, me a “tainted” love.

I shall describe this wondrous personage as it goes to the over all etiology of this most horrendous crime. In body she was elegant as a long stemmed white rose, thin and curvaceous in the derriere. Not only was she a ravening beauty but she was an accomplished pianist and she possessed a double degree in English literature and astro-physics. She was a mail order bride par excellence and a credit to her race. The scent of lavender always permeated the air as she strolled by. Men desired her and women hated her except for the lesbians. She was very very spiritual and dreamy, a kind of shimmering mist enveloped her which put one in the mind of a fog arising on the moors. Upon meeting her, people remarked, and murmured, “What an extraordinary woman!” as she wordlessly passed by.

Now why in heavens name should such a wondrous creature meet such an untimely death? Why, indeed? The answer, to cut to the chase was sex. No, silly, she was not “frigid”. Au contraire. She was a tigress in sex, multi-orgasmic, insatiable, even a tad bit brutal for she would rake Percy’s chest with her long leonine fingernails at the point of climax. Yes darlings there was blood. Percy, a “Rock Hudson” look alike, only straight, and a titan of industry gloried in her excesses. He bedded her quite often and she was his raison d’etre. His heart went out to her like a valentine candy “Be mine Broken One.” For she “broke” him on the axis of passion. Her every wish was also his desire, so besotted in her was he.

Then one night, Fate intervened, or as Edgar Allen Poe in the poem, Annabel Lee so prosaically said, “The angels not so happy in heaven/went to envying her and me.” With her legs up behind her head and Percy thrusting in her like a rutting goat, she banged her head on the headboard. She then fell from consciousness and was in a coma for two weeks, and Percy never left her side. The doctors warned him that she might never regain consciousness again, such was the damage to her frontal lobes.

Then miracle of all miracles, she awoke one day and her brown eyes, were clear and bright and she was absolutely luminous. Percy was absolutely ecstatic and dumped one dozen red roses on her bed sheets, and screamed at the top of his lungs, She’s alive! Alive! I love you, my little monstrosity. My minx!” He then uncorked a bottle of Dom Perignon pouring her a full glass which she downed like a drunken sailor. Then she a ponderous look came over her face and she enjoined him with this quixotic phrase, “I am vexed. Am I not without mercy”. Percy perplexed, replied, “Have I displeased you in any way, my little Cuckco Dove?” And she paused, with a contemplative look, and uttered the same phrase again even more insistently. In fact that was all she ever said for the rest of her tragic life for the next twenty years. And even more horrendous when she said that phrase she got a joyous, triumphant look and dimpled up, and seemed to think she had delivered The Sermon on the Mount or something equally earth shaking.

At first, Percy loved her even more intently for what is more appealing than an injured, helpless beautiful person. The ugly ones get kicked to the curb. A sad but true fact. Alors! And Heavens, no. What is more charming than a tainted love I ask you? Making love to a brain damaged wife was even more titillating as she was even more passionate and wild in a glutinous, absurd, and devastating way. Her skin was even several degrees hotter than it formerly was.

But as my husband Herman Sherman so crudely puts it, “Man Does Not Live by Poontang Alone!” Percy began to tire of all the eroticism and her inability to communicate in any logical and learned way. It was if her soul had fled her and only her lovely, bumptious, bodacious body remained. He began to refer to her as “The Succubus” and to avoid her at all costs. He quit giving lavish, sumptuous dinner parties and avoided his numerous kind, and jolly close friends. He considered her a monstrosity and he was ashamed of her and burdened by her abject dependency and increasing slothfulness for it was clear that she still deeply loved him and this made it worse. Much worse. He began to spend late nights out with the lowly criminal element, gamblers, pimps, and whores who were all too delighted to spend his vast fortune. In short, he became a rotter. He shunned culture, art, beauty and literature, and all the things that made him a fine human being.

When he finally came home at late at night he would find her sobbing her heart out and playing Bach interludes on the Grand Piano. It was like a scene from Phanthom of the Opera, only not in a “fun” way. Then she would recite timidly and hopefully, “I am vexed. Am I not without mercy?” These words would grate on him in much the same way as Chinese Water torture operates. The repeated one drop of water on the forehead over and over would begin to echoe inside the head of the prisoner and it would drive him mad. Her words drove Percy quite insane, and her rank, sexual smell nauseated him like a dead carcass rotting in the woods. He could not stand the sight of her: it was enough to make him retch, the very idea of her, this dreadful morass of neediness. He determined to poison her slowly so as not to invite suspicion on the part of the police, untraceable ancient poisons from Eqypt, the poisons the blessed Cleopatra used to dispatch bothersome lovers. Yet she would always awake, cheerful, loving, and hopeful with the same ghastly phraseology delivered in a boisterously loud voice. In his mind she became a grasping, insatiable strumpet intent on destroying him one syllable at a time. He came to view his malaise in spirit as solely caused by her, the obstreperous whore of a woman. He came to think, “It’s either her or me. And it’s gonna be her goddamnit!”

Then he dressed her up bathed her and did her hair as she used to wear it and he applied her make-up meticulously and perfumed her in lilac. He dressed her in her wedding for he was not without a sense of irony. Why shouldn’t death be humorous he reasoned and he had his criminal friends gut her with the meat hook an leave her hanging in a meat locker for the surprised proprietor to find the next morning. They complained that she took a long time to die and said “I am vexed. Am I not without mercy?” with her last breath. One of the whores commented in pity, “She died a beautiful death, Lurch. Just Beautiful.”

Now Percy resides in the House of Funny Forever. He’s fond of saying, “Women you can’t live with them and you can’t live without them.” And he still looks dashing or at least I think so.
By CAROL ANN author of Poems of Thunder @ Amazon & BN.com

We digress too much. I guess it’s senile dementia or the Alzheimer’s is kicking in. This is Ye Old Hag, as the Black Orchid likes to call us. I’m Auntie Carol. Our main thrust (oh, you dirty minds) is to educate and civilize these “gangstas” at the Pequot School for Dastardly Bastards. Today they outdid themselves in crudeness and lewdness. They filled condoms with water and threw them at us. As you may surmise we were mad as wet hens. And Francisco was laughing his posterior off.

“Bet, you aint never seen a condom before, teach, or much less what goes in one. You is still virgins, I bet. How bout I show you my nine inches,” and he took “it” out.

Lady Lynda was so incensed, she went over and punched him in the mouth with a huge right clip, knocking him our of his seat. He protested the perceived abuse and said he was going to turn her in to Mr. Pequot for child abuse.

“We have carte blanche to do whatever we deem fit,” exhorted Lady Lynda. “You are the scum of the earth. all the other instructors have given up on you. You are drug dealers, thieves, scamers, and even,possibly, murderers. If you’ve ever offed someone we don’t want to know. You’ll all be dead at twenty if you don’t change your ways. And you will be “Gentlemen” before it’s all said and done.

I said, “Mark twain’s comment,’civilization would be a great idea if man ever tried it” comes into play here. You are nought but savages.”

“Oh,” said Francisco laughing, “That really hurts Miz Carol. We thought we were all high styled dudes with the stuff it takes to be men,” with that he grabbed his crotch and Lady Lynda clocked him again, knocking him back on the floor.

“Damnit, Miz Lynda, you gotta’ know I don’t hit no.chicks. Please stop punching me. My head’s got a buzz in it now.”

“You may say you’re sorry and I shan’t do it anymore. But it takes more than a cock, I deign to say, to be a man. SAY it,” she exclaimed.

“Okay, all right, we’re sorry,” murmured Francisco, and the rest of the class shifted nervously in their seats.” I aint never met no teachers like you two.”

“We want to save your lives, young man,” I said. “How many forty year old corner boys do you know? Why not? Because they’re all dead or in jail. There’s a cosmic conspiracy that lets the rich stay rich and the poor stay poor, or dead. If you want to play you’ve got to play by their rules. The more you learn, the more you earn. Life is like a Rubix cube you got to twist it right. To walk among them you must have the tools, job skills and the right English. Beware “aint” which is not a word and the nefarious double negative. Aint got no. Sacre Bleu! We want you to live, survive and prosper, and before this class is over, you shall speak the King’s English. We shall start with Shakespeare’s Hamlet. His uncle kills Hamlet’s father and marries his mother.”

“What a motherfucker,” piped up Francisco. “That was just way too good to pass up, Miz Carol.”
The room broke out in raucous laughter and I could see the wit in it and did not chastise him. We had our work cut out for us but I knew we would prevail.

Yal’ this be Ol’ Wanda Lust and I gots somethin’ way strange to tell ya’ Sometimes Auntie Carol and Lady Lynda snatches me up to do some charity work wid’ someone that turn them off. See Mr. Adzhole Sillipeder, wuz one such person. What the hey, he got six arms like a damn spider and hie one right eye lists to the left. At first as he talk to me I notices he got one hand playin’ solitaire, another slicking down his cowlick and another a pourin’ me some tea. The first thing he says is “I’m not Vishnu as you might think.”

Then he bust out in cackles like he Jerry Seinfield funny. So I laughs to be po-lite and wonder who is this Vishnu character. Still don know. Then we has chatty chat and he ast me where I go to college Then I laughs for real. I come to you from the College of Ceilings and Bed Springs but I can tell he don’t get it. He say ‘My, I never heard of that school” he say

. He act like wearin’ see through knit sweaters wid’ no bra and pink leather micro mini wid’ high kicky boots in Broad daylight don’ send out some kinda message. He call me young lady and lissen’ intently to ever dumb shit thing come outa my mouth. When I ask for three big ones, and he open his raggedy ‘ol wallet and hand me thirty dollars. I sez, No that aint what I means. It had to be bout $300,000. Ya see he a billionaire. He say no he too po’ to put out that kinda cash. I keeps my head and don get mad. I see the ratty curtains and worn out old furniture and how it all dark inside the house wid just one floor light on, (obvious that he want to save on light bills). He really think he poor and then I sees what the matter. He aint never had no real love his whole life. So he think he poor and he wuz in a kinda way.. Then I gets a flash of inspiration form de Lord.. Wasn’t nobody else, This was pure genius. Ten Cent Tilly too old and ugly to really hook anymo’.. Damnit, Wanda, I think, lets git him hitched, And Tilly with that hump on her back and one leg shorter than another was never a successful hooker. Right up his alley and Birds of a Feather. He gone be mush looser wid’ his cash if he happy.’And she gone be happy too. She jes’ happy if anyone give her a sawbuck, a smile and don’t kick the shit out of her jes’ for be’in so ugly. She been abused her whole life but she a straight up Christian. All the bums know she a “soft touch” and they hits on her for money and cigarettes. And Lord. that girl should stop, coughing a lung up, and drinkin’ off the hook. She love anybody whut is good to her and the kind of love to die for you. You can’t git’ that from nobody but Tilly.

I say “Lissen, here, doll face, I gots a plan fo’ your life. I be the fuckin’ Ghost of Christmas Future’. You gone git’ hitched, Mr. Aszhole Sillypeder”.

Me? Married? Does she come from a good family.”..

“She aint got but the clothes on her back and a cheap room downtown and that aint make her bitter. Tilly be a powerful person, Mr. Adzhole. You gon do jes’ like I say. Comprende?’

“Well, when do I meet her at least, please. Wanda, I’m scared.”.

‘You, aint got nothin” to fear. And I got one favor to ast ya. Would you get that tarantula off your shoulder?”

“Oh, you mean, Ron. A distant relative on my mother’s side,”he said..

AND, YAL, THE REST IS HISTORY.

I guess one can expect a little travail in life and Quelle Sorprese if you don’t. The boys had Pequot school exceeded our worst expectations. Heavens, wearing baseball hats backwards, tee shirts with skulls and and anime avatars on them, timberline boots or “sneaks” as they call them. Neitche reigns in the classroom and everyone’s a star. It’s kind of the cult of personality and in which, it conveys superiority. Nary a one wants to succeed at anything other than just being himself. And the comments, “Say are you ladies outtakes from the old Andy Griffith show. Who’s ‘Aunt Bea’?” “And the gloves, are you afraid to touch us. Like I couldn’t jerk off all by myself?” I admit our Ann Taylor suits of magenta and cyan and dress pumps probably were off putting as a number of teachers had taken to wearing “dress” jeans.But, a lady never apologizes for her attire for she is pristine in appearance and meign, and must remain stoic in the presence of rudeness. Some of these boys had actually committed felony offenses like robbery assault and battery, maybe even murder. Some did a lot of things and were never caught. That is my presumption.

How the World has changed. Lady Lynda piped up with something rather shocking, Well, guess what young man. They call me Grandma Dynamite and my co-heart here Helacious Carol, and we are “packing” and have no intention of taking your bullshit. I am Miz Lynda and she is Miz Carol and you will not comment on our appearance or anything else as we are some crazy bitches!” At that point she brought out a rather accurate toy gun which shot blanks. “I have no problem in offing you. It would just improve the overall gene pool. I assume you do more than masturbate, Well, maybe not. Just look at you. You look like Sarte of Bella Lugosi.”

There was a hushed silence for a few minutes then there was applause and lots of “You Go, Gurls.” The one called Francisco, a soulful looking Puerto Rican boy said, “You aint like any teachers we ever seen. Whatup? And who’s Sartre. I know Bella Lugosi and I don’t look like that ugly fucker.” I held up a book with his author’s picture and on the front these words, “Life is Absurd.” The other boys started laughing at Francisco, who, incidentally, was their leader. He raised and arm sweeping it across the room, and it went silent.

“The next laugh and I punch out your fuckin’ lights,” he snarled. “So, life is absurd, right? Or is it ‘nasty, short and brutish’ as Rousseau said.I’m a closet reader. Bet you both think I got shit for brains. Well, you’d be wrong. But it don’t pay to be intelligent.”

“No,” I said, “It doesn’t pay to be stupid. You’ve got it all wrong.”

“Lissen,” said Francisco, I got a sick mom and six little sisters to take care of. And you gone tell me not to deal no drugs. Eight dollars an hour don’t cut it, Madame.”

“I can see you’re a very bright young man, and I’m sure Lady Lynda concurs.We can and will help you whether you want it or not. We’re deadly serious. And what happens in this classroom stays in this classroom.”

“Whatcha gone do? Bring Jesus back so he can bless us with some fish and wine?”said Francisco.

“If, that’s what it takes, yes, ” said Lady Lynda.

“We plan to have you speaking the king’s English. The way you talk is a one way ticket to poverty. You have to play the game in life and speak, let me bring this down to your level, speak like the rich people.So you may pass amongst them and get them to pay you a decent salary, in your patois, you must talk white.” she further stated.

The bell rang and the boys sauntered out each with a smile on his face, And Lady Lynda and Auntie Carol did the “high three” sign which is far superior to the “high five” as it is half of “high five” and then some.

This post/CAROL ANN
This be Wanda Lust and I gone kick me some black ass tonight. I got mo’ trouble than a eight legged octopus whut don’ know where his legs be go’in. These bitches out here been tryin’ to steal my old johns befo’ I went freaky deaky and I aint be givin’ up my regulars fo’ shit. Once they had Ol’ Wanda’s ass they aint want nobody else and they tells me what these heifers be do’in. I don’ like nobody who steal and God don’ like nobody who steal neither. How Shakespeare feel if Mickey Spillane done rip off his plot lines and copy his plays?
Ya see whut I mean, Pancho? God hate thieves and murderers the mostest of anybody.

Society for Dainty Damsels

This is our new internet location.  We moved here.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.