Archive for May, 2012

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.


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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..


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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.

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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.

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Society for Dainty Damsels

This is our new internet location.  We moved here.

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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.

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