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?

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..


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.


Auntie Carol shuddered when she thought of her last assignment. It had to do with an amorous ghost, the haunting of her close friend, Ludmilla Rumpus, a sandy haired, sleepy eyed beauty and a 45 Year old virgin. Auntie Carol was hired to eject one Homer Jessup from Ludmilla’s house. He simply would not vacate the premises no matter how strident were Ludmilla’s objections. The problem was Homer was a non-person AKA a ghost, a spirit or what the black people call a “shade”

He was hopelessly in love with Ludmilla. He loved her lush, plump body, her sharp mind, and even the nervous twitch in her eye. Unfortunately, he was cold to Ludmilla in the literal sense. He was eight inches of icy cold, dast I say it…cock. He caused her shivers and not shivers of passion. Oh, me, no! A troublesome dilemma at best.

This is not to say Homer did not properly court her. Dead roses on her pillow and little faint love sonnets written in her writer’s script note book, and the scent of eucalyptus in the air. He oft put a glass of chardonnay, a petit for, and a cherry filled chocolate bar on her night table. At first she thought it was she herself who was hallucinating, or worse that she might be a multiple personality, doing all these things herself. She was beside herself, so to speak.

Then he began getting into bed with her, timidly caressing her ample breasts and tracing little art scenes in her Mount of Venus. He was terrifically fond of Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights. It was then that she realized she had a spirit invasion on this occasion. Also she began to see him in a misty form, a very average man in short sleeved white shirt and black pants with a Walmart badge pinned to his shirt which read “Homer Jessup”. He was terribly thin and tall like a stalk of ripening corn, with his brown hair parted on the side like a little boy in grade school, and dolorous brown eyes like pools of maple syrup. He had a crooked smile like a grinning alligator. He lacked charm and wit, and was not at all attractive she mused, and not at all suitable aside from being a ghost. Ludmilla wanted a more romantic lover like Rudolph Valentino or the legendary Sir Lancelot, a man who would slay dragons for her, and give her the world on a string.

She wanted such a man to beat a path to her door and sweep her off her feet. The imaginary script ran through Ludmilla’s head about every tenth thought. It was this yearning that summoned Homer from his ghostly habitat. Yet, there was the real fact that Ludmilla was an agoraphobic and a romance writer making a meager living. Now she had this intruder and it was too delicate a problem for the police who would cart her off to the farm of funny if she mention their nocturnal trysts. Psychics wanted too much money and it always involved sacrificing a live goat drinking his blood and calling for the Lord Jesus. “Harumph,” she thought, “I know the Lord does not make house calls!” Ghost hunters wanted to spray her apartment with a sticky green substance resembling, and tasting like lime jello. Our Ludmilla, though hampered in many ways, was no foul fool.

So, Auntie Carol of the Primrose Detective agency was whom she called in. Being her dear friend and having a bare cupboard was the deciding factor in taking the job. At first, she appealed to his ego saying things like “What’s a nice guy like you doing in a situation like this?” “And you know no gentleman would force a lady to perform sexually.” And, “There’s plenty of fish in the sea, you know, for men living and dead, such as yourself.” Then she became more bombastic saying, “You know you’re dead, why don’t you just go to your final resting place and leave this poor damosel alone? Why don’t you Join the Lord in heaven.”

A pen began writing in Ludmilla’s note book, and need I mention only Ludmilla could see him through the mist. This is typical in stories such as this. Auntie Carol read his communiqués.

“Don’t want to, and more succinctly, I didn’t like Him. Such a gladhander.”
And Auntie Carol drew back is dismay. “How could you not like our Lord, Jesus?”
He replied, “Don’t like Father and Son but the Holy Ghost is fine by me.”
“Is that professional courtesy?” Inquired Auntie Carol.
“Yep,” he said, “Besides Ludmilla loves it when I come.” He wrote with such bragadochio.
“She’s a regular wild women and I never had better sex. In fact, this is the only sex I ever had. Girls usually left abruptly after desert saying they had to tend to dying parents and such.”

Reading the script, Ludmilla replied Indignantly. “When you come it’s like an ice water douche. Haven’t I told you a thousand times to leave me alone? Besides, I’m frigid…already.”
“Me thinks the Lady Doeth Protest Too Much. If not why do you do all that screaming, and gnashing of teeth. You are very orgiastic,” he further wrote.

“No, silly, I’m an epileptic. I was having seizures not orgasms. And I do not like those naughty sex toys you stick up my derierre, and that cock ring you wear which falls off because you are like plasma. And why do you have that life size rubber foot with a vagina on the back of it! I think you’re the weirdest person I ever met, and I want you to leave me alone,” retorted Ludmilla.

“Homer,” queried Auntie Carol, “Is this the first time you ever had sex with a woman?”

“Well, technically, yes,” he wrote, “if you don’t count the blow up dolls. I quit that because it was too much like having sex with a dead person.”
“I know there’s a joke in this somewhere,” replied Auntie Carol. “I think I have the solution to this particular problem. There is this acquaintance of mine, named Wanda Lust, Crack Whore, and I bring her in in my more difficult cases. She will have sexual congress with you and you’ll be begging her to stop. And she’s never frigid. She doesn’t care if you’re alive or dead: she’ll have sex with you. There’s the matter of her fee. $1000 per night. Do you have any money, Homer, you hid before your “unfortunate demise?”

“Look in the shoebox under the bed, There’s $5000 there my severance pay from from my last clerical position, and last time on earth. I got hit by a bus, and nobody came to my funeral. I was going to haunt all of them but decided that would be too malicious but I do go by their houses at night and leave their refrigerator doors open at night so all the food rots.”
“Wanda Lust will solve both your problems. Once Wanda has a man has Wanda, he doesn’t want anyone else,” Auntie Carol interjected.

“Well I didn’t like your cold intrusions into my private orifices not on little bit and now I find you been holding out on me, astardbe!”Intoned Ludmilla.
“Gold digger and cunt,” came the furious writing and many things maligning Ludmilla’s character which will not be repeated.

“Now is no time for contretemps. We’ve got the solution. Wanda will be by at 12:00 midnight. A solution is at hand, and you, Ludmilla, shall find my bill in the mail Monday. Today Is Friday the 13th. How odd. Odd Bodkins! I just had to say that little turn of phrase,” chuckled Auntie Carol.

As the clock struck twelve, Wanda rang Ludmilla’s door bell and stood in full vampire regalia, a black see through camisole with green interlaced ribbons, a purple cape lined with red satin, black patent leather thigh high pirate boots and a cat of nine tails. And she had a purple streak on the top of her Afro. She rightly assumed he would like a dominitrix would thrill an inexperienced person.

Her first command was, “Spirit slime, you gone kiss mistress’s shoes and I better see a sincere effort. I wants to see my face in them boots when you done. Then you gone pleasure yo’ mistress where the moon beams don’ shine and I demands an hour. I gone enthrall you and transport ya to goddamn heaven. You gone have the attentions of Miz Wanda Lust, World’s Finest Concubine. And after we done you gone gladly pay my fee for the time of yo’ life. I aint give a shit that you a shade. I sez come one, come all.”
Wanda Lust, ever the Whore Extraordinaire.


Auntie Carol and Lady Lynda were much distressed at the death of the Hohenzollern family, their neighbors. None survived but the oldest child, sweet Emmeline The rest of the family, mother, father, and younger thirteen year old brother died in a most ghastly state of cardiac arrest. They looked like fans at a Lakers game, tongues lolling out of their mouths and veins distended in the neck. Emmeline June did survive but was confined to an asylum for over four months in what appeared to be severe catatonia. She said not a word, just stared wistfully at the TV watching old “Dukes of Hazard” reruns. The only thing is her eyes did not move: she only stared straight ahead.

Auntie Carol exclaimed, “The poor dear,” while Lady Lynda remarked that it was always the innocents who suffered the most in this life.

“The good always die young, “ intoned Auntie Carol.

Lady Lynda said archly, “They were seventy-eight and eighty, hardly young, Carol.”

“You know one always says certain things in situations like this. They’re in a better place now.”

“Apparently you never saw Bosch’s painting, “The Garden of Earthly Delights.” Maybe they’re in the giant egg with legs or inside of the burning building. You never know what they did in life, their sins and so forth, though I think the boy might make it to heaven,” exhorted Lady Lynda.

“Dear, you’re in a state today. Why so wroth?” asked Auntie Carol.

“Seymour has been away for four days and I miss my huggles,” she replied.

“Is that what you call “it”. Herman, Emma always says cunning linguists and laughs his head off. Penal and renal make him laugh too. Any kind of rhyme delights him.”

“Tsk, Tsk, you just said a naughty.”

“Don’t says tisk, tisk, You know I hate onomatopoeia, sinks gurgling, cats meowing, horses neighing. Damnit don’t do it anymore!”

“I never knew you had such an aversion, dear,” said Lady Lynda.

“It’s not even that, really. The police department has hired me to crack the Hohenzollern murders or whom they think is the murderer, Emmeline. This, after four months in the house of looney. It’s obscene. It’s adding insult to injury. The poor dear, she’s heartbroken. And I’m to deceive and grieve her,” said Auntie Carol.

“Dear, you must be really stressed: you’re rhyming again. Only psychos and poets go around rhyming and maybe they’re one in the same. I don’t think I ever met a sane artist. It’s always the grape or heroin. Look at Janis Joplin if you don’t believe me. Or what about William Holden who banged his head on the table in a drunken state and killed himself. There are countless others to numerous to name. It’s a shame.”

“Apparently, you’re also ‘phone ringing, nobody home’. You just rhymed,” said Auntie Carol, who laughed.

“Comparing us is like comparing apples and oranges, dear. Do you think she poisoned them, Carol? On second thought let’s give her a neighborly visit. I’ll bake the bran muffin you make the Arabica coffee and cinnamon buns and we’re all set for a home visit.”

“Une bon idée, ma belle Lynda. And they arrived at her door two hours later like the Brady Bunch mother. “I feel nefarious in that I’m really a spy and the young girl has gone through hell, losing her entire family. Sometimes the plight of a detective is a gruesome thing.”

“That’s what you said about substitute teaching, love,” laughed Lady Lynda.

“No, subbing was like being covered with honey and staked on an ant hill!” chirped Auntie Carol. “Still, to my prior statement. She cremated them immediately and did not announce their demise in the Obits section of the paper. That is odd.”

“Oh, and painting them up and draining all their blood and making little children kiss the dead is a natural thing? Then there’s the drinking and stuffing one’s plate. Is that respectful of the dead. We do all the things they can no longer do just to spite them! There you go gurgle you old stiff and see if you can get a drink. Fat chance,” said Lady Lynda

“When I die I want to be stuffed and put right in front of your door as a lawn ornament. They can do me up like Botticelli’s Venus with the giant shell. No seriously it’s in my will,” said Auntie Carol.

“I adore your noir, dear. Oh, the door’s finally opening. It’s about time for Mr. Smiley Face!” said Lady Lynda.

They were quite taken aback as she was dressed in a red plaid skirt, short sleeved white shirt, with patent baby doll shoes looking like Christina Ricci in the Adams Family. She even had her long black hair braided into two braids and her eyes were a milky blue like a jet stream, and she had skin like white porcelain. Gaunt and disturbed, was she, with dark circles under her eyes.

“Dear may we come in? We’ve brought you some goodies, a little breakfast treat. I’m Auntie Carol and this is Lady Lynda. We want to help anyway we can. Consider us your family now, sweet pea. We’re just a stone’s throw away.

“I thought you were the social worker again. I’m going to cold cock her and not in the good way. See I can be funny. They want to put me with a “good” family like I need guidance,” said Emmeline.

“Dear,’ said Lady Lynda, ”you’re not mature enough to live alone.”

My parents were real old and I used to feed and look after them and my little brother, too. I tell you washing your parent’s private’s is not one of life’s greatest moments. I mean I miss them and all, and dream about them chasing me around the house as the ‘undead’ trying to eat me or bite me, what have you. So I don’t sleep. Because that’s what I get. Or sometimes they try to drag me in a long deep well with no light and I wake up screaming. I ran the house, gave the servants their daily orders and the first time I do something fun and get out of town for two weeks, they all croak on me.”

Dear, tell us how to help you. We’re here to ease your pain.” said Lady Lynda.

“Give me some coffee and cake, and don’t ask me how I feel. I get enough of that with the social worker and the shrink. Give me advice.”

“Dear, you must dress your age, not like a nine year old. And you must bathe more regularly as a lady must be dainty in her personage,” said Auntie Carol. “And a lady must never be tragic like Kim Novack in “By Love Possessed” dying heinously of syphilis. Be Scarlet O’Hara out of ‘Gone With the Wind’. Tomorrow’s another day. Think on the future not the past”, intoned Auntie Carol.

“That’s better. I feel better. Like you’re not trying to mess with my head,” she said. “Can I go shopping at some fancy stores and try a grasshopper at lunch in some fancy hotel. I never did any of those things. Things people take for granted. My parents were too old and sick to let me do those things and all my aunts and uncles are dead.”

“My, dear, you have never lived. Come stay with me and Seymour, for a fort night and learn what a normal family is. You were stifled by all the sickness and servitude. Of course we’ll
go out today and then will have all new things for you. So just walk out with your credit cards and a smile. Lunch at the Hyatt is on us, grasshopper too. You know a grasshopper is creme de menthe and crème, a frothy green fizz.

“I know but not really but I love the color green.”

I have to ask you, young lady, was there any malfeasance?” said Auntie Carol.

“No, it just was their time.”

“And your younger brother?” asked Auntie Carol.

“He was a tool, and didn’t deserve to live. But I didn’t conscript him into heaven.”

“How do you know he would go to heaven?” said Auntie Carol.

“Because he was too stupid to do anything wicked.”

“And You?” asked Auntie Carol

“I’m not stupid.

“You know if there’s any forensic evidence that turns up, they’ll arrest you,” Auntie Carol said.

“Justice will be served and the truth will out. I know that from watching Jerry Springer.”

“You, are one helluva person, young lady,” said Lady Lynda.

And the leaves on the tobacco plant wilted in the noon sun and they looked right at it. Certain parts of the tobacco plant are poisonous resulting in Tachycardia (rapid heart beat) and a comatose state that leads to death. It breaks down and cannot be detected as it is a plant poison.

“You poor dear, you’re an orphan,” said Lady Lynda reaching out to hug her.

SUBTITLE” Lady Lynda Shtups to Conquer

Oh I am in tizzy exclaimed Auntie Carol. Our Lady Lynda slipped into sin with such immoral behavior. It is Winter now. Is this the Winter of Lady Lynda’s discontent? Heavens say it isn’t true. I know there’s sense of coldness toward her spouse. A sense of coldness. Take that, darlings any way you want. She’s committed adultery She is as they say, enjoying the company of that world class lothario, Nick Venire. A professional painter who specializes in sensual female nudes. He himself is sensual too with his six foot two sleek body,tousled golden curls threatening to obscure his lapis blue eyes. His skin looking as if tanned by the Naples Sun. Of course his name is Nicolas.
Lady Lynda explained she’d call him Nick since he came…to her in the nick of time. Besides it rhymed with Dick.” The woman despaired as she thought how Nick and Dick rhymed with prick . The last word sorely reminded her of Seymour. She know he was using her as his domestic trophy. He preyed on her sense of pride. Now that she underwent a complete doctor implemented makeover program. Yes her now svelt form would she believed would be perfect for a portrait sans clothes That is except for a strategically placed satin drape. Lady Lynda reminded herself she was invariably a lady. Even when she wanted to more than merely observe. She desired to get into the thick of things. Seymour’s spouse figured she’d claimed Nick and her were merely friends”

Toze’s mate sorely remembered how Auntie Carol remarked “but I can tell they’re cavorting and lasciviousness. One can use their imagination here on what they do in private. My presumption is she is ever so gentle as to not to strike , like most men, his fragile ego. Talk about, “The Fall of the House of User.”

I know she believes Seymour is only erotically interested in her glorious , wondrously high arched, fatally fantastic feet. A woman must be true to her man no matter how little of her he desires. (Ruth)Bible. Wedding and then marriage vows. No matter what!!! Even if Joaquin Phoenix came on me. I Auntie Carol would be faithful to my Herman Sherman/Emma Enigma. Of course, darlings, you know my mate is a hermaphrodite. Herman Emma requires special care since its a threesome with two people. He/she is the best of both the feminine and the masculine, the softness of the female and the manly of the male. ”

Lady Lynda grimaced as she recalled how she wore same darn panties one full week because they reminded her of Nick. The woman felt nasty thinking about it. There were tinges of guilt over throwing away her true love for a cheap fling. Even worst Nick lived in the mansion next to her and her man. It was oh so too risky. Seymour loved her with all his heart. If only he loved her with the rest of him. It would be dastardly if he discovered her little secret. That she discovered as man who wanted her for more than merely her ten pretties.

Yes the fact she, Lady Lynda, found a man who wanted all of her. And yes Nick did. She loved posing for him sans clothing. Of course a modest drape for just this side of decorum. You know even with L’affair , Lady Lynda mused, she must live up to her self imposed title. She was Lady Lynda because she was consistently a lady. On her now shapely body thanks to her primary improved weight loss and exercise program, was draped a modest drape. The woman reflected on the difference between naked and nude. Nudity was when you were comfortable totally exposing yourself and that she was. Nicolas talked of the famous nudes of the Italian Renaissance. One of his favorites was Giorgione’s “The Tempest” There is a woman who nonchalantly breastfeeds an infant while a noble looking young man looks on. In the background is a bridge and trees rustling in the wind. It was full of atmosphere and mystery. The muted colors made the paining even more atmospheric. Just like the mysterious Nicolas Venire. Italian for come. Her new man tells her he was eleven when he saw this painting in an artbook he found in his local library. It inspired him to become a professional painter. He told too his new paramour that when he was eleven he knew beds weren’t necessarily for sleeping. Lady Lynda understood perfectly his drift.

Nicolas Venire’s new model felt a glow within her as she posed seductively yet discreetly for her creative lover. As she stood there she wondered how creative he was in bed. She looked eagerly forward to him saying the word. She felt pleased yet still awkward. There were some pangs of guilt being that she cheated on Seymour. Conversely once again she reminded herself her reason for being where she was , was she wanted a man who wanted her entire body. Not only her toes. A man who didn’t insist she wear flimsy flip flops no matter what she thought of them.

There were times Nick’s woman was so jubilant she wished she could text her happiness to the world. That is except for her husband. There was a silver lining being married to a toe fetishist. She held Nick even more in esteem. Yes she did her own research in finding a new lover. She never dreamed he would be her neighbor. Well there’s no place like next door she bemused. The woman couldn’t imagine going back. No, not when she discovered pure happiness. On the other hand Lady Lynda, perhaps pure was a strange word to use since what she was doing was anything but pure. Yet when she was with Venire she completely forgot how she was a married woman cheating on her spouse. The only thing she knew at this moment was how much she was grateful, Nick Venuto showed up in her life.

Lady Lynda couldn’t remember when she experienced such a satisfying relationship. She readily confessed that the moment she noticed the moment she first encountered the artist, he treated her like the female she sorely forgot she was. Yet deep down inside, realized she was very much. If only her feet weren’t so sore from standing so long. It seemed like hours. Lady Lynda glanced at her watch. The reality was she was posing for only twenty minutes. Well at least it was worth it. Being Nicolas was a connissior of the human form, especially female. It was no surprise he’d appreciate her womanly form. It was delightful the woman thought, to pose for him.

“Do you mind if you dine with me at the Cafe d’oro d’arco? The cuisine was an esquisite mixture of Italian and Greek. You might say El Greco and Roman style. There’s a chanteuse there who I am rather fond of…her singing. She is so expressive. She gives each lyric of the song the deepest, truest meaning. I adore her rendition of that classic “I only have eyes for you.” Originally sung in the 30s musical “42nd Street. You know most middle aged people , you know fifty and older remember the Doowop group, The Flamingo’s version. Man their sound was as cool as a summer night with a soft refreshing breeze. By the way I finished my painting of you. Want to see it?”
Lady Lynda grimaced slightly when he mentioned fifty. How would he feel if he somehow discovered she was ten, perhaps fifteen years his senior? The woman tried to get that possibility out of her mind. Instead she walked over to her portrait. It was truly impressive. He painted her as she forgot she was. A woman who deserved to be loved for every single part of her.

“Come with me to the window. It’s such a beautiful dusk tonight. Its so clear and clouds are as fluffy as cotton candy. The stars’s sparkle’s so beautiful in contrast to the electric blue sky. The man sang in a romantic tenor. “Are the stars out tonight. I don’t know if its cloudy or bright. I only have eyes for you dearrrr. I don’t know if we are in a garden. Or on a crowded avenue. You are here. So am I. Maybe millions of people go by. But they all disappear from view…..For I only have eyes for you”

Yes it was true, Lady Lynda only had eyes for Nick Venuto She felt it deeply in her heart and in her gut that he felt the same way too. The grateful woman loved every single minute she was with him. Her thoughts turned to bliss as she cherished each moment they were united. They continued their tryst with the knowledge that they were feeling truly right for each other. He took her to plays, dance recitals and of course art gallery openings in Philadelphia, New York City and Washington D.C. Not only his but his artistic crony’s as well.

The couple dined at restaurants ranging from the finest cuisine at the elegant eating establishments to the casual and carefree. Where they could kick off their shoes and play footsies under the table. Lady Lynda cringed as her foot touched his. Nicolas’s paramour immediately thought of how she desired an affair because she wanted to get as far as possible from a man who only appreciated her feet and toes. Now here she was in the if not the exact same in an extremely similar situation. Well maybe Seymour wasn’t so bad. At least she knew he loved her. Nick might of come in the nick of time. But his debonair , sensual ways with her was only to mislead her. He too was a foot and toe fetishist. At least there’s was a stable relationship. She knew where she stood with him. With Nick it was fling , a romantic sensual one, but a fling non the less. With her mate it was the real thing. Maybe he’d go to a marriage counselor with her. So they both could be truly satisfied being husband wife.

A couple days later Lady Lynda happened to gaze out her and Seymour’s picture window. Lo and behold she immediately observed a male and female snow couple on the lawn of Nick Venire The man with a carrot strategically placed. It was not being used for his nose. The woman in a shapely hourglass form. Her snow hand was over her snow femininity. Nick Venuto’s house was painted with black polka dots on garish hot pink background. It was obvious Nick was seeking revenge. least Seymour had good taste.