Midge,
Greetings to you and yours. It has been so long since we were attending
Miss Pat Peck's School. I, for one, found that place to be most intolerable.
The only solace I found during my tenure there was the band we belonged to.
To this day I can't listen to Steve Perry without a tear in my eye.
Love always,
Pearl
MIDGE REFLECTS ON REUNION
M. C. Peck,
The more I think about it our 5th year anniversary is coming up. It has been around 5 years that we were all trapped in that dastardly School of Reform and Charm. I still awake some nights reliving all of those awful moments at the hands of Miss Pat Peck.
What an awful woman she was.
I was happy to hear of her death a few years back. I can think of nothing more appropriate that her last days on Earth were spent being the sexual slave for the all-midget cast of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre On Stage. She met with an ugly, ugly death.
Since I am planning to be in your fair city at the end of the year I think it would be only proper for all of us to gather for one more time. I am a bit rusty and have forgotten many of our Journey covers. Now that times have changed a little I was thinking that we could expand our covers and now play the hits of Ole' Dirty Bastard and the Wu Tang Clan. I hear that Hip-Hop and Rap are "da bomb".
I eagerly anticipate your response.
I am and forever will be,
Pearl S. Dunbar.....of the Boston Dunbars......
The more I think about it our 5th year anniversary is coming up. It has been around 5 years that we were all trapped in that dastardly School of Reform and Charm. I still awake some nights reliving all of those awful moments at the hands of Miss Pat Peck.
What an awful woman she was.
I was happy to hear of her death a few years back. I can think of nothing more appropriate that her last days on Earth were spent being the sexual slave for the all-midget cast of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre On Stage. She met with an ugly, ugly death.
Since I am planning to be in your fair city at the end of the year I think it would be only proper for all of us to gather for one more time. I am a bit rusty and have forgotten many of our Journey covers. Now that times have changed a little I was thinking that we could expand our covers and now play the hits of Ole' Dirty Bastard and the Wu Tang Clan. I hear that Hip-Hop and Rap are "da bomb".
I eagerly anticipate your response.
I am and forever will be,
Pearl S. Dunbar.....of the Boston Dunbars......
MIDGE RESPONDS
Pearlescent!!!
I too look back on the days of Miss Pat Peck's with fondness and horror. Gone are the days of poise and rope burns...ahh the foolishness of youth.
I seems like only yesterday I was pounding out the Journey beats on my drum kit, before Miss Pat decided that ABBA was the only music she wanted to hear. The bitch!!!
Time marches on, and we have all been scattered to the four corners of the world. Alas, I fear a reunion will never be possible. Distance is the bugaboo here. That, and a court order to stay away from all of you, lest I return to the Chowchilla Detention Center for Women.
All my love to you and yours,
Midge Celestine Peck
I too look back on the days of Miss Pat Peck's with fondness and horror. Gone are the days of poise and rope burns...ahh the foolishness of youth.
I seems like only yesterday I was pounding out the Journey beats on my drum kit, before Miss Pat decided that ABBA was the only music she wanted to hear. The bitch!!!
Time marches on, and we have all been scattered to the four corners of the world. Alas, I fear a reunion will never be possible. Distance is the bugaboo here. That, and a court order to stay away from all of you, lest I return to the Chowchilla Detention Center for Women.
All my love to you and yours,
Midge Celestine Peck
LIBERTY RESPONDS DIFFERENTLY
Pearl Darling,
I, on the other hand, enjoyed my stay at L'Academie. After the tremendous injustice of the pageant system, I took liberty (hehehe) in the solace of Miss Pat Peck and her teachings. As for the Band, I too look fondly on those darling memories of beating the pants off other schools during competitions. To this day, "Separate Ways" holds a special place in mon couer. For not only was it inspiration to stay in touch after graduating, but also descriptive of the different backgrounds we all endured P.P.P. pre-Pat Peck.
Until we speak again,
Liberty Belle Vermillion
I, on the other hand, enjoyed my stay at L'Academie. After the tremendous injustice of the pageant system, I took liberty (hehehe) in the solace of Miss Pat Peck and her teachings. As for the Band, I too look fondly on those darling memories of beating the pants off other schools during competitions. To this day, "Separate Ways" holds a special place in mon couer. For not only was it inspiration to stay in touch after graduating, but also descriptive of the different backgrounds we all endured P.P.P. pre-Pat Peck.
Until we speak again,
Liberty Belle Vermillion
MIDGE REFLECTS
Pearl, my Dove,
Words can never express the anguish and pain that Miss Pat inflicted upon us. My only consolation was that I was quite the slut while we were there, and I managed to have many a sweaty and erotic encounter with Julio, the groundskeeper, and Mr.. Bennett-Smyth, the swarthy cook. Sometimes simultaneously. but Miss Pat was a hard task mistress, and she managed to render my paramour's useless with the simple addition of saltpeter to ALL of the food. The Bitch!!
You are correct however, her enslavement with "the little people" (as they like to be referred) was both grotesque and slightly arousing. I'll say no more on that subject until the inquest is closed.
I so look forward to your visit to our metropolis and a happy reunion. I remember a few of the covers, but as the drummer, words were never the major concern for me. It was the possibility that one of my well-formed breasts should "pop" out of our revealing unitards whilst I banged the skins. No matter, we can play whatever your little heart desires, as long as that sell out bitch Lauryn Hill is not included.
Your correspondence is greatly anticipated.
Forever and truly yours,
Midge Celestine Peck
Words can never express the anguish and pain that Miss Pat inflicted upon us. My only consolation was that I was quite the slut while we were there, and I managed to have many a sweaty and erotic encounter with Julio, the groundskeeper, and Mr.. Bennett-Smyth, the swarthy cook. Sometimes simultaneously.
You are correct however, her enslavement with "the little people" (as they like to be referred) was both grotesque and slightly arousing. I'll say no more on that subject until the inquest is closed.
I so look forward to your visit to our metropolis and a happy reunion. I remember a few of the covers, but as the drummer, words were never the major concern for me. It was the possibility that one of my well-formed breasts should "pop" out of our revealing unitards whilst I banged the skins. No matter, we can play whatever your little heart desires, as long as that sell out bitch Lauryn Hill is not included.
Your correspondence is greatly anticipated.
Forever and truly yours,
Midge Celestine Peck
PEARL IS AGHAST
Peck,
I must say that I am a bit shocked/surprised that Mr. Bennett-Smyth had his way with you. From the information that I received from Mr. Bennett-Smyth he was also having his way with Miss Pat. It was he, in fact, that introduced her to the cast of "....Massacre". This was, of course, before it was still "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre On Ice".
It seems that we have a mystery afoot. Why did Mr. Bennett-Smyth take Miss Pat Peck to the Ice Capades? How did Mr. Bennett-Smyth come to be associates of "The Little People.”? How was Miss Pat Peck enslaved? Why did Lauryn Hill sell out?
These just may be questions that are never answered.
I have the strangest feeling that that Southern Bitch, Miss Made of Cotton, would know. She has kept her silence for far too long.
Until next time,
Pearl
I must say that I am a bit shocked/surprised that Mr. Bennett-Smyth had his way with you. From the information that I received from Mr. Bennett-Smyth he was also having his way with Miss Pat. It was he, in fact, that introduced her to the cast of "....Massacre". This was, of course, before it was still "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre On Ice".
It seems that we have a mystery afoot. Why did Mr. Bennett-Smyth take Miss Pat Peck to the Ice Capades? How did Mr. Bennett-Smyth come to be associates of "The Little People.”? How was Miss Pat Peck enslaved? Why did Lauryn Hill sell out?
These just may be questions that are never answered.
I have the strangest feeling that that Southern Bitch, Miss Made of Cotton, would know. She has kept her silence for far too long.
Until next time,
Pearl
MIDGE CONFESSES
Miss Pearl,
Mr. Bennett-Smyth was a well-known purveyor of young, impressionable girls. He swept me off of my feet over a steaming serving of chipped beef, also known as "Shit on a Shingle". I was aware that he was also "doing" Miss Pat. She however, had a tipped uterus, and could only accommodate, shall we say, deliveries through the back door.
I will repeat, that I should say nothing further about Miss Pat's, or Mr. Bennet-Smyth's involvement with "The Little People" until the investigation is complete.
I agree that Miss Made O' Cotton knows more than she lets on, but being the lush that she is, I'll bet she's forgotten most of it anyway. More vodka Miss Made O' Cotton?
Fondly,
Midge
Mr. Bennett-Smyth was a well-known purveyor of young, impressionable girls. He swept me off of my feet over a steaming serving of chipped beef, also known as "Shit on a Shingle". I was aware that he was also "doing" Miss Pat. She however, had a tipped uterus, and could only accommodate, shall we say, deliveries through the back door.
I will repeat, that I should say nothing further about Miss Pat's, or Mr. Bennet-Smyth's involvement with "The Little People" until the investigation is complete.
I agree that Miss Made O' Cotton knows more than she lets on, but being the lush that she is, I'll bet she's forgotten most of it anyway. More vodka Miss Made O' Cotton?
Fondly,
Midge
LIBERTY SPILLS TEA
Hello my Sisters,
It seems that much ado about "little people," chipped beef, and Lauryn Hill has commenced without me. Sadness abounds for I thought that I, former Miss Made O'Cotton and L'Academie alumni, have tried my best to mend ties and further the communication betwixt us all. Granted, we have all but written off Lorraine Loreen L'Ore-Ida...of course she had the good sense to find her a good man and hold onto him tighter than a lily-white, chicken-livered, back-stabbing ex-boyfriend of mine held on to a lone tree branch on the side of a cliff nicknamed "Death's Door" during a brief visit to Pike's Peak...I didn't expect to be ostracized as well. But enough about me...I tend to be dramatic at times...I did seem to have a flair for it in school. Remember my stirring performance as Nurse Ratched in "Cuckoo!", the musical version of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest"? I do believe I was handed an award for that performance, narrowly winning out over Midge's haunting portrayal of Antigone and Pearl's over-the-top and scene-stealing Ratso Rizzo in the all-girl rendering of "Midnight Cowboy." But I digress...
If memory serves me correctly, without the aid of spirits, thank you very much MC, I did become privy to a horde of information surrounding our swarthy cook's involvement with the circus. As I have not been subpoenaed or sworn to secrecy, and since I am not above "spilling tea" when the situation warrants it, I can let you know some tidbits I happened upon whilst under the tutelage of our esteemed Miss Pat Peck. As God is my witness, I assure you this information just literally fell into my lap. Some nights as I aimlessly wandered the halls of our down-trodden dormitory due to bouts of insomnia and uncontrollable bowel movements, the whispered voices of our beloved custodians and Academie staff sang to me, pulling me closer, desperately wanting me to hear. I was the chosen one. Although later, during 2nd semester Home Economics and Steel Welding, Miss Tally Byrd Abernathy vehemently accused me of being a gossip-hounding snitch, I firmly believe that it was meant for me to know.
It was our dear caretaker's in-laws that brought him to the ice. It seems that Mr. Bennett-Smyth's wife, Theodora, was instrumental in updating modern horror films into Ice Capade Majesties. The only problem was Theodora felt an undying need to give back to all the little people that aided her in fleeing an abusive home life. Theodora was unloved, unwanted, and, to quote TLC, unpretty - something Academie ladies knew nothing about. (Insert cocktail here.)
She was rescued by a travelling band of little people who would bring their circus to town every other year. It was there that Theodora found solace and kinship she so desperately waned for. Unbeknownst to Theodora on her first night with the merry band, that their circus dreams were a mere mirage of what they longed to do...skate. After pitching "Munchkins on Ice" to every major touring company to no avail, they were left with no alternatives. It was at the WACO-TV NBC affiliate commissary that she met Mr. Bennett-Smyth. I never learned of his first name. Miss Pat Peck always referred to him by his family name when speaking to him, and at other times I could only discern his name was similar to Harder, for that's what she would scream late at night on the school grounds. It seems now that Midge might be able to solve that mystery. As well as answer the question many of the girls asked each other after a night with Mr. Bennett-Smyth. Was it worth the girth?? Another digression...
Anyway, after viewing "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" on their first date, everything fell into place. That's what I heard....
Until we speak again,
I remain,
Liberty Belle Vermillion
Former Miss Made O' Cotton
PS - Tipped uterus??? Very interesting!
It seems that much ado about "little people," chipped beef, and Lauryn Hill has commenced without me. Sadness abounds for I thought that I, former Miss Made O'Cotton and L'Academie alumni, have tried my best to mend ties and further the communication betwixt us all. Granted, we have all but written off Lorraine Loreen L'Ore-Ida...of course she had the good sense to find her a good man and hold onto him tighter than a lily-white, chicken-livered, back-stabbing ex-boyfriend of mine held on to a lone tree branch on the side of a cliff nicknamed "Death's Door" during a brief visit to Pike's Peak...I didn't expect to be ostracized as well. But enough about me...I tend to be dramatic at times...I did seem to have a flair for it in school. Remember my stirring performance as Nurse Ratched in "Cuckoo!", the musical version of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest"? I do believe I was handed an award for that performance, narrowly winning out over Midge's haunting portrayal of Antigone and Pearl's over-the-top and scene-stealing Ratso Rizzo in the all-girl rendering of "Midnight Cowboy." But I digress...
If memory serves me correctly, without the aid of spirits, thank you very much MC, I did become privy to a horde of information surrounding our swarthy cook's involvement with the circus. As I have not been subpoenaed or sworn to secrecy, and since I am not above "spilling tea" when the situation warrants it, I can let you know some tidbits I happened upon whilst under the tutelage of our esteemed Miss Pat Peck. As God is my witness, I assure you this information just literally fell into my lap. Some nights as I aimlessly wandered the halls of our down-trodden dormitory due to bouts of insomnia and uncontrollable bowel movements, the whispered voices of our beloved custodians and Academie staff sang to me, pulling me closer, desperately wanting me to hear. I was the chosen one. Although later, during 2nd semester Home Economics and Steel Welding, Miss Tally Byrd Abernathy vehemently accused me of being a gossip-hounding snitch, I firmly believe that it was meant for me to know.
It was our dear caretaker's in-laws that brought him to the ice. It seems that Mr. Bennett-Smyth's wife, Theodora, was instrumental in updating modern horror films into Ice Capade Majesties. The only problem was Theodora felt an undying need to give back to all the little people that aided her in fleeing an abusive home life. Theodora was unloved, unwanted, and, to quote TLC, unpretty - something Academie ladies knew nothing about. (Insert cocktail here.)
She was rescued by a travelling band of little people who would bring their circus to town every other year. It was there that Theodora found solace and kinship she so desperately waned for. Unbeknownst to Theodora on her first night with the merry band, that their circus dreams were a mere mirage of what they longed to do...skate. After pitching "Munchkins on Ice" to every major touring company to no avail, they were left with no alternatives. It was at the WACO-TV NBC affiliate commissary that she met Mr. Bennett-Smyth. I never learned of his first name. Miss Pat Peck always referred to him by his family name when speaking to him, and at other times I could only discern his name was similar to Harder, for that's what she would scream late at night on the school grounds. It seems now that Midge might be able to solve that mystery. As well as answer the question many of the girls asked each other after a night with Mr. Bennett-Smyth. Was it worth the girth?? Another digression...
Anyway, after viewing "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" on their first date, everything fell into place. That's what I heard....
Until we speak again,
I remain,
Liberty Belle Vermillion
Former Miss Made O' Cotton
PS - Tipped uterus??? Very interesting!
PEARL LASHES BACK
Liberty,
I think I speak for all of the guests (inmates) of "The School" when I say that I, Pearl S. Dunbar....of the Boston Dunbars, was robbed of that acting award.
"Dunbar Shines as Ratso!" screamed the L'Academie Weekly.
"Midnight Cowboy finds Pearl" echoed The School Times.
Never had I worked so hard at something in my life. I researched, I rehearsed, I rewrote for Christ's sake. To be beaten by a musical theatre washout is something that I may never get over.
I will take that shame with me to my grave..........
Sadly,
Pearl..........................
I think I speak for all of the guests (inmates) of "The School" when I say that I, Pearl S. Dunbar....of the Boston Dunbars, was robbed of that acting award.
"Dunbar Shines as Ratso!" screamed the L'Academie Weekly.
"Midnight Cowboy finds Pearl" echoed The School Times.
Never had I worked so hard at something in my life. I researched, I rehearsed, I rewrote for Christ's sake. To be beaten by a musical theatre washout is something that I may never get over.
I will take that shame with me to my grave..........
Sadly,
Pearl..........................
LIBERTY RINGS TRUTH
Pearl Darling,
I also fondly remember your kind notices in our pseudo-literate school publications. However, do you not recall the accusatory notices that followed the reviews of your, dare I say, stellar performance?
"Pearls do shine brighter when placed next to increased ad revenue."
"Midnight Cowboy may have found a Pearl, but lost the gold to Liberty and Justice for all...of the cast of "Cuckoo!" "
I beg to differ, dear sister in Peck, but the only robbery that took place was that of your father's bank book. Now I'm not one to cast stones, but I do believe that Missy Crane Boulet, editor in chief of L'Academie Weekly, was overheard by yours truly one evening outside of the Dairy Queen on Main and Poncelet. She was trying to squeeze more money from the manager for their upcoming issue detailing the correlation of Blizzards and Blasts to Blackheads. I swore on my mother's Gutenberg bible that she used the Dunbar name and placement in that issue to her advantage. Did we not see a full double-page spread on the DQ? And wasn't your precious bank ad moved to the back behind the Doolittle's Dog Dipping coupon? That's just what I heard...
I'm sorry if this upset you. I just want the record to show that I deserved that award. Your extensive rewrites to "Midnight", which included the exclusion of the Sylvia Miles character in order to make room for your impromptu monologue/ballad during Act Two (which, by the way, did not win you any favors with Belinda Therese - Sylvia Miles' grand-niece and theatre board president), or the bold move on Midge Celestine Peck's part by playing Antigone's death scene entirely in the nude, did not sway the judging panel enough to swing their votes your way. It's time to let it go. Isn't it bad enough you'll be taking your unflattering beauty mark (Dunbar mole) to the grave instead?
As for the accusation that I, Liberty Belle Vermillion, Miss Maid O'Cotton, am a musical theatre wash-out is just plain inflammatory. How dare you??? I didn't know it meant that much to you, enough to speak of me in such ill will. Well, I guess that's something I'll just have to let go. I can't remain upset with you for too long, for we are friends and family. HOWEVER COMMA, must you be so cruel? Wasn't the fact that I lost Miss Junior Miss to some Okie from Muskogee enough? Wasn't the fact that you were named Class Treasurer and Most Likely To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying Because My Family Is So Damned Rich four years in a row important to you? Can you honestly say that winning that award would have been the pinnacle of your acting career at MPPACR? If so, then I heartily apologize for my ranting.
Forever I shall be,
Liberty Belle Vermillion
Former Miss Maid O'Cotton
I also fondly remember your kind notices in our pseudo-literate school publications. However, do you not recall the accusatory notices that followed the reviews of your, dare I say, stellar performance?
"Pearls do shine brighter when placed next to increased ad revenue."
"Midnight Cowboy may have found a Pearl, but lost the gold to Liberty and Justice for all...of the cast of "Cuckoo!" "
I beg to differ, dear sister in Peck, but the only robbery that took place was that of your father's bank book. Now I'm not one to cast stones, but I do believe that Missy Crane Boulet, editor in chief of L'Academie Weekly, was overheard by yours truly one evening outside of the Dairy Queen on Main and Poncelet. She was trying to squeeze more money from the manager for their upcoming issue detailing the correlation of Blizzards and Blasts to Blackheads. I swore on my mother's Gutenberg bible that she used the Dunbar name and placement in that issue to her advantage. Did we not see a full double-page spread on the DQ? And wasn't your precious bank ad moved to the back behind the Doolittle's Dog Dipping coupon? That's just what I heard...
I'm sorry if this upset you. I just want the record to show that I deserved that award. Your extensive rewrites to "Midnight", which included the exclusion of the Sylvia Miles character in order to make room for your impromptu monologue/ballad during Act Two (which, by the way, did not win you any favors with Belinda Therese - Sylvia Miles' grand-niece and theatre board president), or the bold move on Midge Celestine Peck's part by playing Antigone's death scene entirely in the nude, did not sway the judging panel enough to swing their votes your way. It's time to let it go. Isn't it bad enough you'll be taking your unflattering beauty mark (Dunbar mole) to the grave instead?
As for the accusation that I, Liberty Belle Vermillion, Miss Maid O'Cotton, am a musical theatre wash-out is just plain inflammatory. How dare you??? I didn't know it meant that much to you, enough to speak of me in such ill will. Well, I guess that's something I'll just have to let go. I can't remain upset with you for too long, for we are friends and family. HOWEVER COMMA, must you be so cruel? Wasn't the fact that I lost Miss Junior Miss to some Okie from Muskogee enough? Wasn't the fact that you were named Class Treasurer and Most Likely To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying Because My Family Is So Damned Rich four years in a row important to you? Can you honestly say that winning that award would have been the pinnacle of your acting career at MPPACR? If so, then I heartily apologize for my ranting.
Forever I shall be,
Liberty Belle Vermillion
Former Miss Maid O'Cotton
PEARL’S LUSTER FADES
My Dear Southern Belle,
Let me begin by saying that I will never apologize for the extent of the Dunbar family fortune. While it has served my family well for generations, it has meant diddlysquat for me over the years. True, I was raised with the luxuries that only European royalty are accustomed, but will I always be seen as that kind of person? I say no.
I was sent to Peck's because I wanted to be there. There, I admit it. I was there at my own fruition. I wanted to be common. I wanted to be dirty. I wanted to be you. I wanted to be judged by the quality of my existence and not by the quantity of cash in my Prada clutch.
It was there that I found a love of the Theatre. I studied. I toiled. I breathed the Theatre. I worked my fingers to the bone. But my father, Taylor Bigalow Dunbar VI, did not believe in me. He was convinced that I had no talent and decided he needed to "buy" my talent. I admit that he used his influence to get me good notices in the beginning. That's right, IN THE BEGINNING!!!!!
It is he that was responsible for my good reviews in those early plays: "Vicky! The Life & Times of Vicky Carr", "Mertz! The True Story of Vivian Vance" and "Our Town".
Ratso Rizzo was to be my shinning moment in the Theatre.
While I do respect Midge for the courage it took to properly convey the inner struggle of Antigone (in the buff) I do not, and will not, succumb to losing out to you.
I do not respect you as an actress, but I do respect you as a friend. As a friend you are truly a dear. As an actress you, to put it mildly, you stink. The only reason you were chosen to "play" Nurse Ratched was because your mother, Miss Scarlett Lee Deveraux, and Belinda Therese were having a secret lustful affair.
Let's face it, we Peck girls have never gotten anything on our own. We use every mean and deceitful trick we can to get what we want. Even Midge Celestine Peck has had her share of secrets.
As for the Dunbar mole, I will only say that I never expected you to bring up a physical deformity. You of all people. Remember, I've kept your "secret" for all these years. Don't make me reveal what I know.
I say, let's call a truce to this insidious ranting about our theatrical lives. I think you are just jealous. As you are very well aware, I have continued to be a Mistress of the Boards. I am, in fact, in rehearsals as we speak to replace Miss Charlotte Rae as Kim in the internationally renowned production of the Cameron Mackintosh extravaganza, Miss Saigon. We open a week from Tuesday in Eau Clair, Wisconsin in the newly refurbished Eau Clair Civic Center and Bingo Hall. How's that for success?
I am not angry. I am not hurt. I just want the respect that I deserve.
Why hasn't Midge responded to any of this? Is she too busy trying to recapture the glory that a naked Antigone once gave her? Or, is she hiding something about Miss Pat Peck?
Eagerly anticipating a response,
Pearl S. Dunbar… of the Boston Dunbars, soon to be a STAR
Let me begin by saying that I will never apologize for the extent of the Dunbar family fortune. While it has served my family well for generations, it has meant diddlysquat for me over the years. True, I was raised with the luxuries that only European royalty are accustomed, but will I always be seen as that kind of person? I say no.
I was sent to Peck's because I wanted to be there. There, I admit it. I was there at my own fruition. I wanted to be common. I wanted to be dirty. I wanted to be you. I wanted to be judged by the quality of my existence and not by the quantity of cash in my Prada clutch.
It was there that I found a love of the Theatre. I studied. I toiled. I breathed the Theatre. I worked my fingers to the bone. But my father, Taylor Bigalow Dunbar VI, did not believe in me. He was convinced that I had no talent and decided he needed to "buy" my talent. I admit that he used his influence to get me good notices in the beginning. That's right, IN THE BEGINNING!!!!!
It is he that was responsible for my good reviews in those early plays: "Vicky! The Life & Times of Vicky Carr", "Mertz! The True Story of Vivian Vance" and "Our Town".
Ratso Rizzo was to be my shinning moment in the Theatre.
While I do respect Midge for the courage it took to properly convey the inner struggle of Antigone (in the buff) I do not, and will not, succumb to losing out to you.
I do not respect you as an actress, but I do respect you as a friend. As a friend you are truly a dear. As an actress you, to put it mildly, you stink. The only reason you were chosen to "play" Nurse Ratched was because your mother, Miss Scarlett Lee Deveraux, and Belinda Therese were having a secret lustful affair.
Let's face it, we Peck girls have never gotten anything on our own. We use every mean and deceitful trick we can to get what we want. Even Midge Celestine Peck has had her share of secrets.
As for the Dunbar mole, I will only say that I never expected you to bring up a physical deformity. You of all people. Remember, I've kept your "secret" for all these years. Don't make me reveal what I know.
I say, let's call a truce to this insidious ranting about our theatrical lives. I think you are just jealous. As you are very well aware, I have continued to be a Mistress of the Boards. I am, in fact, in rehearsals as we speak to replace Miss Charlotte Rae as Kim in the internationally renowned production of the Cameron Mackintosh extravaganza, Miss Saigon. We open a week from Tuesday in Eau Clair, Wisconsin in the newly refurbished Eau Clair Civic Center and Bingo Hall. How's that for success?
I am not angry. I am not hurt. I just want the respect that I deserve.
Why hasn't Midge responded to any of this? Is she too busy trying to recapture the glory that a naked Antigone once gave her? Or, is she hiding something about Miss Pat Peck?
Eagerly anticipating a response,
Pearl S. Dunbar… of the Boston Dunbars, soon to be a STAR
LIBERTY IN DEFENSE
My Dear No-Good Yankee Trash Sweet Sister of Mine,
First off, bless your heart for deciding that defending your honor means trashing my family's good name, not to mention my acting ability. And now, in response...
I will always hold dear my cherished alma mater - Miss Pat Peck's Academie of Charm and Reform. Since you obviously have chosen to forget, L'Academie did not come cheap to everyone. My family to this day have silently punished me for the years I spent with Miss Pat Peck and the charming summer cottage in Nice, France they had to forgo to keep me a prisoner of knowledge at said school. You know as well as anyone that I am not plainly judged by the quality of existence...for I had endured many a pageant panel far more judgmental than our charming school mates...who by the way encouraged you to ditch that horrid chilly tint Fendi fanny pack for your black Prada clutch.
As for your talent in the theatre, I do have to apologize for my horrible remarks and accusations, not all of which were entirely true. Your performances and your study do speak for themselves...when you're not shouting out your praises. But I digress. However, I don't remember the notices for "Our Town" praising your performance. But let's face it, ensembles were never your forte. Bowing out of our staged reading of "The Gumball Rally" was quite a scene...worthy of an award some may say.
I guess I can live with the fact that you do not respect me as an actress. Granted, my turn as Nurse Ratched was to be my swan song on the stage for the remainder of our incarceration at MPPACR. It was then that I, with the aid of my dear mum, return my focus on a different stage - that of the pageant circuit. My quest for Miss Junior Miss did not result in the manner of which I was accustomed to, but alas, my spirits were not broken. For my respectful 19th place in that contest of beauties did parlay into a Homecoming Queen victory...only after it was revealed Cappie Fawn Haltimore's bout with gender dysphoria would soon be at an end, her long overdue pre-operative sex change operation had come through.
And Midge...her nude scene in Antigone had been planned for weeks on end. Her decision to play it "in the moment" is a crock. She'd been dying to flash her bosom ever since our band state competition our Sophomore year when she leapt up to catch her tossed drumstick during "Lovin Touchin and Squeezin" wearing that skimpy halter that barely left anything to the imagination. Of course we did win that competition, so I can't fault her for that. I'm sure she'll have something to say about that.
I'll end this correspondence with what you request. My admiration, respect, and eternal friendship. I only wish you the best of success during your run in "Miss Saigon." I will be unable to attend the performances, for I limit my stage exposure to the bright lights of Broadway. So until then...
My strongest applause to you.
Liberty Belle Vermillion
PS - I don't wish to continue any conversation of the sort regarding the alleged affair of which you spoke. I have the highest regard and esteem for my mother and do not wish to comment on such a vicious attack on her sacred name.
Adieu.
First off, bless your heart for deciding that defending your honor means trashing my family's good name, not to mention my acting ability. And now, in response...
I will always hold dear my cherished alma mater - Miss Pat Peck's Academie of Charm and Reform. Since you obviously have chosen to forget, L'Academie did not come cheap to everyone. My family to this day have silently punished me for the years I spent with Miss Pat Peck and the charming summer cottage in Nice, France they had to forgo to keep me a prisoner of knowledge at said school. You know as well as anyone that I am not plainly judged by the quality of existence...for I had endured many a pageant panel far more judgmental than our charming school mates...who by the way encouraged you to ditch that horrid chilly tint Fendi fanny pack for your black Prada clutch.
As for your talent in the theatre, I do have to apologize for my horrible remarks and accusations, not all of which were entirely true. Your performances and your study do speak for themselves...when you're not shouting out your praises. But I digress. However, I don't remember the notices for "Our Town" praising your performance. But let's face it, ensembles were never your forte. Bowing out of our staged reading of "The Gumball Rally" was quite a scene...worthy of an award some may say.
I guess I can live with the fact that you do not respect me as an actress. Granted, my turn as Nurse Ratched was to be my swan song on the stage for the remainder of our incarceration at MPPACR. It was then that I, with the aid of my dear mum, return my focus on a different stage - that of the pageant circuit. My quest for Miss Junior Miss did not result in the manner of which I was accustomed to, but alas, my spirits were not broken. For my respectful 19th place in that contest of beauties did parlay into a Homecoming Queen victory...only after it was revealed Cappie Fawn Haltimore's bout with gender dysphoria would soon be at an end, her long overdue pre-operative sex change operation had come through.
And Midge...her nude scene in Antigone had been planned for weeks on end. Her decision to play it "in the moment" is a crock. She'd been dying to flash her bosom ever since our band state competition our Sophomore year when she leapt up to catch her tossed drumstick during "Lovin Touchin and Squeezin" wearing that skimpy halter that barely left anything to the imagination. Of course we did win that competition, so I can't fault her for that. I'm sure she'll have something to say about that.
I'll end this correspondence with what you request. My admiration, respect, and eternal friendship. I only wish you the best of success during your run in "Miss Saigon." I will be unable to attend the performances, for I limit my stage exposure to the bright lights of Broadway. So until then...
My strongest applause to you.
Liberty Belle Vermillion
PS - I don't wish to continue any conversation of the sort regarding the alleged affair of which you spoke. I have the highest regard and esteem for my mother and do not wish to comment on such a vicious attack on her sacred name.
Adieu.
MIDGE MEDIATES
Dearest Pearl and Liberty,
My, my ladies, what has prompted the both of you to spew such venomous accusations toward one another? Certainly you can both be proud of your meager accomplishments at our former "institution", but please try and remember our motto. "Girlfriends help you move, but Miss Peck girlfriends help you move bodies".
Now you know I love and respect you both, but try not to forget our senior year when I swept the talent competition with my acclaimed, bring the house down performance in "Deaf, Dumb and Blind-The Musical Helen Keller". It by far outshone my nude "Antigone", or my featured role as bordello mistress Sally Stanford in "Stick It In Me". But we cannot, and must not dwell on past glories, but look ahead to our divine reunion.
Pearl, yes you are rich, yes you are talented, but you are also frigid, and subject to fits which leave you incontinent.
And Liberty my sweet, never forget your stint as a lesbian scat slave when your parents cut off your trust fund for selling your hairy, half wit sister, Mayflower to that inbred crawfish clan in the bayou.
I digress yet again. Many secrets went to the grave with Miss Pat, but there are many eyes and ears that still know much more. We must band together and forget these petty jealousies.
Fondly and forcefully,
Midge
My, my ladies, what has prompted the both of you to spew such venomous accusations toward one another? Certainly you can both be proud of your meager accomplishments at our former "institution", but please try and remember our motto. "Girlfriends help you move, but Miss Peck girlfriends help you move bodies".
Now you know I love and respect you both, but try not to forget our senior year when I swept the talent competition with my acclaimed, bring the house down performance in "Deaf, Dumb and Blind-The Musical Helen Keller". It by far outshone my nude "Antigone", or my featured role as bordello mistress Sally Stanford in "Stick It In Me". But we cannot, and must not dwell on past glories, but look ahead to our divine reunion.
Pearl, yes you are rich, yes you are talented, but you are also frigid, and subject to fits which leave you incontinent.
And Liberty my sweet, never forget your stint as a lesbian scat slave when your parents cut off your trust fund for selling your hairy, half wit sister, Mayflower to that inbred crawfish clan in the bayou.
I digress yet again. Many secrets went to the grave with Miss Pat, but there are many eyes and ears that still know much more. We must band together and forget these petty jealousies.
Fondly and forcefully,
Midge
MIDGE RETALIATES
Okay Vermillion,
If you would use your vodka addled brain completely for a moment, you will remember that said halter-top was a gift from YOU to celebrate my entry into the finals of the state welding/spelling competition!!
I pray for the day when we can all be reunited, and I can deliver a sound smack to the side of your Aqua Netted coif. With a metal pipe.
Fondly,
Peck
If you would use your vodka addled brain completely for a moment, you will remember that said halter-top was a gift from YOU to celebrate my entry into the finals of the state welding/spelling competition!!
I pray for the day when we can all be reunited, and I can deliver a sound smack to the side of your Aqua Netted coif. With a metal pipe.
Fondly,
Peck
PEARL’S STAR SHINES AGAIN
Friends,
It is with great sadness that I, Pearl S. Dunbar......of the Boston Dunbars, must announce that I have been replaced in the current production of Miss Saigon in Eau Clair, Wisconsin. I have been replaced by Miss Mindy "Backstabbing" Cohn, formerly of the hit NBC television series, "The Facts of Life". The director, Asaad Kelada, and I had been having great disagreements of the interpretation of the role. He wanted an exact replica of the Lea Salonga performance and I wanted the character to represent the struggles that Asian women have on the legitimate stage. As you can imagine, I threw a fit and left the stage floor urine stained. I was humiliated.
So, as one may expect, I am now unemployed. And unemployable after Mr. Kelada has since blackballed me from most of the Midwestern Broadway reproductions that are in pre-production: "A Chorus Line" at the Gary, IN Community Service Center, "Gypsy" at the Beaver Creek, MN Theatre for the Deaf, "Brigadoon" at the Branson, MO Community Players, and "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum" at the Center for Satanic Studies in
Wilmette, IL. What am I to do?
My family is more than thrilled at my predicament. They want nothing more than for me to continue in the family tradition and become a partner in the Dunbar Bank. I just can't step foot in New England again. I am now living in the Eau Clair Motor Lodge on State Highway 42. It isn't as bad as you may think. I've gotten quite "friendly" with the many of the staff here. Chuck, the porter and Melvin, the bellman have become quite smitten with me. They live to service me. It is because of them that I remain here in the desolate hellhole.
You two are my only true friends. I am desperate to reunite with the two of you. You must help me. Please. What am I to do?
Desperately Single and Sad, sitting by the Eau Clair Motor Lodge cement pond,
Pearl S. Dunbar......of the Boston Dunbars
It is with great sadness that I, Pearl S. Dunbar......of the Boston Dunbars, must announce that I have been replaced in the current production of Miss Saigon in Eau Clair, Wisconsin. I have been replaced by Miss Mindy "Backstabbing" Cohn, formerly of the hit NBC television series, "The Facts of Life". The director, Asaad Kelada, and I had been having great disagreements of the interpretation of the role. He wanted an exact replica of the Lea Salonga performance and I wanted the character to represent the struggles that Asian women have on the legitimate stage. As you can imagine, I threw a fit and left the stage floor urine stained. I was humiliated.
So, as one may expect, I am now unemployed. And unemployable after Mr. Kelada has since blackballed me from most of the Midwestern Broadway reproductions that are in pre-production: "A Chorus Line" at the Gary, IN Community Service Center, "Gypsy" at the Beaver Creek, MN Theatre for the Deaf, "Brigadoon" at the Branson, MO Community Players, and "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum" at the Center for Satanic Studies in
Wilmette, IL. What am I to do?
My family is more than thrilled at my predicament. They want nothing more than for me to continue in the family tradition and become a partner in the Dunbar Bank. I just can't step foot in New England again. I am now living in the Eau Clair Motor Lodge on State Highway 42. It isn't as bad as you may think. I've gotten quite "friendly" with the many of the staff here. Chuck, the porter and Melvin, the bellman have become quite smitten with me. They live to service me. It is because of them that I remain here in the desolate hellhole.
You two are my only true friends. I am desperate to reunite with the two of you. You must help me. Please. What am I to do?
Desperately Single and Sad, sitting by the Eau Clair Motor Lodge cement pond,
Pearl S. Dunbar......of the Boston Dunbars
MIDGE CONSOLES
My dearest Dunbar,
I was horrified to read your missive about your unprecedented dismissal from "Miss Saigon"!!! Having met Miss Kohn and Mr. Kelada (this during my embarrassing cocaine and huffing years) at a party in Hollywood, I am not surprised at your abrupt firing. I long suspected that Mr. Kelada was dipping his wick in the company inkwell. That inkwell taking on the rubinesque personage of Miss Mindy. It appears they are still rather close.
Of course, it was after this soiree that I awoke the next day to discover that I had been stabbed in the side. I had gone to this party with a "gentleman" friend, who had often squired me to celebrity events, but I discovered I could not remember his name, nor locate my underpants or coin purse. So my impressions of Asaad and Mindy remain blurry at best.
Digression strikes again!! Now Miss Pearl, I have spoken to a friend of mine in Independence, MO. He is Kinsey Franklin Hart at the Wooden Leg Theater Co. You must hightail it there post-haste to assume the role of "Stella" in their all paraplegic production of "A Streetcar Named Desire" appropriately retitled "The Shortbus Named Desire". Their original Stella, played by Varina Mae Puckett has begun to reject her baboon heart, and is unable to
continue in the role. I told him that you indeed possess both of your legs, and that they are in working order. He assured me that "steps" would be taken to conceal your non-handicap.
I hope this helps in some way. Do not fret my freshwater Pearl. I still have some connections in the world of theater, and I am more than happy to offer my assistance. I look forward to glowing reviews of your performance.
All of my love and support,
Midge Celestine Peck
I was horrified to read your missive about your unprecedented dismissal from "Miss Saigon"!!! Having met Miss Kohn and Mr. Kelada (this during my embarrassing cocaine and huffing years) at a party in Hollywood, I am not surprised at your abrupt firing. I long suspected that Mr. Kelada was dipping his wick in the company inkwell. That inkwell taking on the rubinesque personage of Miss Mindy. It appears they are still rather close.
Of course, it was after this soiree that I awoke the next day to discover that I had been stabbed in the side. I had gone to this party with a "gentleman" friend, who had often squired me to celebrity events, but I discovered I could not remember his name, nor locate my underpants or coin purse. So my impressions of Asaad and Mindy remain blurry at best.
Digression strikes again!! Now Miss Pearl, I have spoken to a friend of mine in Independence, MO. He is Kinsey Franklin Hart at the Wooden Leg Theater Co. You must hightail it there post-haste to assume the role of "Stella" in their all paraplegic production of "A Streetcar Named Desire" appropriately retitled "The Shortbus Named Desire". Their original Stella, played by Varina Mae Puckett has begun to reject her baboon heart, and is unable to
continue in the role. I told him that you indeed possess both of your legs, and that they are in working order. He assured me that "steps" would be taken to conceal your non-handicap.
I hope this helps in some way. Do not fret my freshwater Pearl. I still have some connections in the world of theater, and I am more than happy to offer my assistance. I look forward to glowing reviews of your performance.
All of my love and support,
Midge Celestine Peck
AN UNGRATEFUL PEARL
My Dear Sisters,
Thanks to Midge and her "contacts" I am now stuck here in "The Show-Me State" at the Wooden Leg Theatre Company and Cabaret. While I do appreciate all that you have done for me, Midge, I have to pass along the cruelties that have befallen me since I have been here awhile.
Mr. Kinsey Franklin Hart was not at all pleased that I was healthy and functional. But he was desperate to go on with "Shortbus". He decided that I needed to feign some sort of handicap in order to "fit in" around here. We fought back and forth on this one. I found it very strange that he wanted me to suffer from Tipped Uterus Syndrome or TUS. I am aware that our headmistress, Miss Pat Peck, suffered from the same affliction. I refused. I won out! My bio now reads that for years I have learned to live and act with the most horrible of all maladies, Turrett's Syndrome. What an acting challenge!!!!!! Uncontrollable profanity is just want this play needs.
Saturday night was my debut here. I had no idea that Varina Mae Puckett was so loved here in Independence. When it was announced that I, Pearl S. Dunbar....of the Boston Dunbars, would be replacing Miss Puckett half of the audience rolled out and demanded their money refunded. Those that stayed were amazed at what they saw. Even though I am playing Stella, a secondary character, I must say that I stole the show. That not being too difficult since my cast is made up of very strange people.
Mr. Harry Pitts brings a new twist to Stanley. It seems that our Mr. Pitts was born without any arms or legs. Even though he is gifted with the most expressive, booming voice he cannot seem to pull off the physical demands of the show.
Miss Gertrude Ann Trucksilla, formerly of Clyde Beatty's Side Show, is our esteemed Blanch DuBois. Miss Trucksilla has been featured in The Guinness Book of World Records for being the only living woman to reach the impressive weight of 969lbs. Amazing as it sounds she is actually capable of pulling off the vulnerability that Blanch needs. Even though she is unable to walk without assistance, and completely bedridden the play has been blocked "around" her. When not "onstage" my character simply covers her with a large throw and she becomes a very important set piece.
The very important part of Mitch is played by the sweetest of all men. Mr. Melvin C. Williams was hit by a train his early 20's and was left with only 3% of his brain. Sweet man. Never an unkind word to say about anyone.
Hopefully I will be out of here soon. Most of the stagehands are dwarfs and I get the strangest feeling that I am being watched.
Until next time.......
Pearl
PS. Thank you again, Midge. I can't wait to repay you for this…helping hand.
Thanks to Midge and her "contacts" I am now stuck here in "The Show-Me State" at the Wooden Leg Theatre Company and Cabaret. While I do appreciate all that you have done for me, Midge, I have to pass along the cruelties that have befallen me since I have been here awhile.
Mr. Kinsey Franklin Hart was not at all pleased that I was healthy and functional. But he was desperate to go on with "Shortbus". He decided that I needed to feign some sort of handicap in order to "fit in" around here. We fought back and forth on this one. I found it very strange that he wanted me to suffer from Tipped Uterus Syndrome or TUS. I am aware that our headmistress, Miss Pat Peck, suffered from the same affliction. I refused. I won out! My bio now reads that for years I have learned to live and act with the most horrible of all maladies, Turrett's Syndrome. What an acting challenge!!!!!! Uncontrollable profanity is just want this play needs.
Saturday night was my debut here. I had no idea that Varina Mae Puckett was so loved here in Independence. When it was announced that I, Pearl S. Dunbar....of the Boston Dunbars, would be replacing Miss Puckett half of the audience rolled out and demanded their money refunded. Those that stayed were amazed at what they saw. Even though I am playing Stella, a secondary character, I must say that I stole the show. That not being too difficult since my cast is made up of very strange people.
Mr. Harry Pitts brings a new twist to Stanley. It seems that our Mr. Pitts was born without any arms or legs. Even though he is gifted with the most expressive, booming voice he cannot seem to pull off the physical demands of the show.
Miss Gertrude Ann Trucksilla, formerly of Clyde Beatty's Side Show, is our esteemed Blanch DuBois. Miss Trucksilla has been featured in The Guinness Book of World Records for being the only living woman to reach the impressive weight of 969lbs. Amazing as it sounds she is actually capable of pulling off the vulnerability that Blanch needs. Even though she is unable to walk without assistance, and completely bedridden the play has been blocked "around" her. When not "onstage" my character simply covers her with a large throw and she becomes a very important set piece.
The very important part of Mitch is played by the sweetest of all men. Mr. Melvin C. Williams was hit by a train his early 20's and was left with only 3% of his brain. Sweet man. Never an unkind word to say about anyone.
Hopefully I will be out of here soon. Most of the stagehands are dwarfs and I get the strangest feeling that I am being watched.
Until next time.......
Pearl
PS. Thank you again, Midge. I can't wait to repay you for this…helping hand.
MIDGE IS MIFFED
Dunbar,
I must say that I am still shaking after all that you have said about your experiences in Independence, MO. It certainly was not easy getting you any sort of "gig", considering your unprofessional behavior in almost every theater, cabaret, bus and trunk tour, and dog and pony show you've attached yourself to like an anemic leech!! How dare you blame me!!!
Kinsey Franklin Hart did not do this out of the goodness of his heart. He did it because I PAID him to do it. Since your family finally saw fit to cut you off, and your delusional dream is that you can be any sort of successful actress, I thought I was doing you a great favor. Yet again though, you have decided that this engagement is below you.
My half sister, Gertrude Ann Trucksilla (who weighs in at a dainty 869lbs., not 969lbs.) has written me about your particular brand of behavior whilst inadequately portraying Stella. All is not as grim as you've portrayed it. Apparently, missing limbs not withstanding, your torrid affair with Harry Pitts is ripping the company apart. I have seen Mr. Pitts in the raw, (his
performance in "Equus" still sends shivers through me), so I know of his attributes. Who needs arms or legs when you have a penis King Kong would envy? But to do the dirty deed in the fly space during dress rehearsal, screaming "This is the Pitts!!" is low, even for you. You may not be aware that his wife, Precious Pitts, is the costume designer, and she has been on
to you since the start. This may explain the itching powder in your one piece foundation garment, and the small grassfire outside of your trailer, at the Bess Truman Trailer Court.
As far as the dwarves go, I suppose the reason you feel as if you're being watched, is based on the fact that you've had numerous orgies with them, a la "Under The Rainbow". They must be waiting for another opportunity to diddle your pink parts, while you sing "Short People". I can overlook all of these things, but if you lay one hand on Melvin C. Williams, I will fly to
Missouri and personally rip you apart. I know of your penchant for hairy half-wits, but he is not up for grabs!!
I am enclosing a plane ticket, so that you may return to whatever town, city, or burg that will have you. Never have I felt more wounded (with the exception of the aforementioned stabbing in my side) than I do by your ungratefulness. The infamous porno actress/clairvoyant Kiki Duvall, fresh from her run in "Ann Meara: A Life in 1 1/2 Acts", has been engaged to continue the run in "Shortbus", so your services are no longer required.
I love you Pearl, but you continue to burn bridges, and this one singed my perky ass. Let me know where you end up, as I will always worry about you, and wonder if your mother's wanderlust, fondness for watersports and sexual asphyxiation, are inheritable traits.
Truly yours,
M. C. Peck
I must say that I am still shaking after all that you have said about your experiences in Independence, MO. It certainly was not easy getting you any sort of "gig", considering your unprofessional behavior in almost every theater, cabaret, bus and trunk tour, and dog and pony show you've attached yourself to like an anemic leech!! How dare you blame me!!!
Kinsey Franklin Hart did not do this out of the goodness of his heart. He did it because I PAID him to do it. Since your family finally saw fit to cut you off, and your delusional dream is that you can be any sort of successful actress, I thought I was doing you a great favor. Yet again though, you have decided that this engagement is below you.
My half sister, Gertrude Ann Trucksilla (who weighs in at a dainty 869lbs., not 969lbs.) has written me about your particular brand of behavior whilst inadequately portraying Stella. All is not as grim as you've portrayed it. Apparently, missing limbs not withstanding, your torrid affair with Harry Pitts is ripping the company apart. I have seen Mr. Pitts in the raw, (his
performance in "Equus" still sends shivers through me), so I know of his attributes. Who needs arms or legs when you have a penis King Kong would envy? But to do the dirty deed in the fly space during dress rehearsal, screaming "This is the Pitts!!" is low, even for you. You may not be aware that his wife, Precious Pitts, is the costume designer, and she has been on
to you since the start. This may explain the itching powder in your one piece foundation garment, and the small grassfire outside of your trailer, at the Bess Truman Trailer Court.
As far as the dwarves go, I suppose the reason you feel as if you're being watched, is based on the fact that you've had numerous orgies with them, a la "Under The Rainbow". They must be waiting for another opportunity to diddle your pink parts, while you sing "Short People". I can overlook all of these things, but if you lay one hand on Melvin C. Williams, I will fly to
Missouri and personally rip you apart. I know of your penchant for hairy half-wits, but he is not up for grabs!!
I am enclosing a plane ticket, so that you may return to whatever town, city, or burg that will have you. Never have I felt more wounded (with the exception of the aforementioned stabbing in my side) than I do by your ungratefulness. The infamous porno actress/clairvoyant Kiki Duvall, fresh from her run in "Ann Meara: A Life in 1 1/2 Acts", has been engaged to continue the run in "Shortbus", so your services are no longer required.
I love you Pearl, but you continue to burn bridges, and this one singed my perky ass. Let me know where you end up, as I will always worry about you, and wonder if your mother's wanderlust, fondness for watersports and sexual asphyxiation, are inheritable traits.
Truly yours,
M. C. Peck
LIBERTY AWAKENS TO HELP
My dear sisters,
I apologize profusely for not communicating sooner. After going through the past emails that have transpired between you two, I decided I must respond...tout suite.
Pearl, I have to admit, after my atrocious tumble down a shame spiral, that I too contributed to your "Shortbus" run. Though Midge didn't say (for she tends to forget...or she was graciously protecting me) that a check for an unspecified amount was forwarded to a Mr. Kinsey Franklin Hart. Please forgive me. Although I was unaware of your frequent ramblings, hysterics, and sideline fornicating, it was only in your best interest. I must also admit that I did attend a performance of the show to witness the horrors my former pageant stylist had been unfortunately subjected to. That former stylist was Precious Pitts. I am a little remiss in spending hard earned Power Ball lottery winnings on your return to the stage, for it was blatantly obvious that a dalliance between you and the very married Harry Pitts existed. Unless massive pornographic rewrites were made to the classic Tennessee Williams play, everyone in that theatre knew you had Pitts on the brain. I thought for sure that the line was, "I've always depended on the kindness of strangers," not paid for the kindness of strangers. Was it necessary to simulate oral sex on Harry atop the unusually large chaise lounge...aka Gertrude Ann Trucksilla??
Whatever the explanation, at least you can put that behind you now and move on. I have just issued a check to the Bess Truman Trailer Court to pay for any damages set forth on Lot #12 during your brief stay there. And as for Precious, let's just say that she too can overlook the affair (for a small fee) and go on. After all, as they say in showbiz, the show must go on.
Darling Midge...now that all is clear, I hope you can direct your attention to another worthwhile cause. You see, my Junior League Society is preparing for our annual Winter Charity Auction and Masquerade Barbeque, and I was wondering if you were willing to part with any memorabilia you've acquired from your renowned actor/father Gregory Peck. I know it's a lot to ask but we will make it worth your while. Two tickets to the said Auction/BBQ and all the porkloin you can eat. Please let me know for I need to get back to the League as soon as possible.
Until next time,
I remain,
Former Miss Made O'Cotton,
Liberty Belle Vermillion
I apologize profusely for not communicating sooner. After going through the past emails that have transpired between you two, I decided I must respond...tout suite.
Pearl, I have to admit, after my atrocious tumble down a shame spiral, that I too contributed to your "Shortbus" run. Though Midge didn't say (for she tends to forget...or she was graciously protecting me) that a check for an unspecified amount was forwarded to a Mr. Kinsey Franklin Hart. Please forgive me. Although I was unaware of your frequent ramblings, hysterics, and sideline fornicating, it was only in your best interest. I must also admit that I did attend a performance of the show to witness the horrors my former pageant stylist had been unfortunately subjected to. That former stylist was Precious Pitts. I am a little remiss in spending hard earned Power Ball lottery winnings on your return to the stage, for it was blatantly obvious that a dalliance between you and the very married Harry Pitts existed. Unless massive pornographic rewrites were made to the classic Tennessee Williams play, everyone in that theatre knew you had Pitts on the brain. I thought for sure that the line was, "I've always depended on the kindness of strangers," not paid for the kindness of strangers. Was it necessary to simulate oral sex on Harry atop the unusually large chaise lounge...aka Gertrude Ann Trucksilla??
Whatever the explanation, at least you can put that behind you now and move on. I have just issued a check to the Bess Truman Trailer Court to pay for any damages set forth on Lot #12 during your brief stay there. And as for Precious, let's just say that she too can overlook the affair (for a small fee) and go on. After all, as they say in showbiz, the show must go on.
Darling Midge...now that all is clear, I hope you can direct your attention to another worthwhile cause. You see, my Junior League Society is preparing for our annual Winter Charity Auction and Masquerade Barbeque, and I was wondering if you were willing to part with any memorabilia you've acquired from your renowned actor/father Gregory Peck. I know it's a lot to ask but we will make it worth your while. Two tickets to the said Auction/BBQ and all the porkloin you can eat. Please let me know for I need to get back to the League as soon as possible.
Until next time,
I remain,
Former Miss Made O'Cotton,
Liberty Belle Vermillion
PEARL ROLLS ON
My two dearest, evil, loving sisters,
It is with pain and sadness that I write this. After a lifetime of devoting my life to my greatest pleasure, the theatre, I have given it up. I just don't have what it takes. And thanks to the two of you, that idea has been blasted into my brain.....I just don't have what it takes. While I do appreciate all that you two have done for me, I ask you both just one favor....please don't help me anymore. You two may help me right into my grave.
Since being asked to leave Independence I found my way to the Windy City. That's right, I'm now living and working in Chicago. Home of the Sears Tower, Lake Michigan and Oprah. I called my father and told him that he was right and that I would quite the theatre and never speak of it again. He immediately moved me to Chicago and has made me President of the Midwest Region of Dunbar Savings and Loan. Well, not really President...more like assistant to the President. "You have to start somewhere." Daddy always says.
Chicago is nice.
I have joined a chapter of SA, Sex Anonymous, and have admitted to myself that I am a sex addict. It hurts but I will persevere.
I'm all alone now. For the first time in my life I don't have anyone to share my life with. Again, I will persevere.
I'm living in a small but tasteful one bedroom apartment on the north side of the city. A lovely little area known as Lakeview.....I've gotten to know my neighbor across the hall, Blain. Turns out, he had to give up the theatre also. After his brother, Nathan Lane, became so famous all hope of his success came to an end. He didn't want to be known as Blain Lane, Nathan's brother. Blain Lane is a dear, sweet man.And thankfully he is homosexual so my sex addiction in still kept in check. He comes over occasionally and the two of us sit eating pastry and watching Must See TV. It's not a bad life, really..........
Life is hard....who am I kidding? I have to take the bus for Christ's sake!!!! Do you have any idea what kind of freaks ride public transportation. I must persevere.
I'm trying to put my past life behind me. No more talk of dwarfs, fat ladies or the limbless for me. For now on I am a new lady. I must keep telling myself that. I WILL PERSEVERE.
I cry myself to sleep almost every night. I miss my former life and my former shenanigans. I miss dishing with the two of you. I miss spreading my cooter at any man who walks on by. The last time I showed my cooter in public was at the "Shortbus" cast party. I was doing the limbo and forgot that I was wearing underwear. That bitch, Precious Pits, snapped my picture and now it is all over the internet. My former self would vow to get even with her. But, she is one of God's children and must be forgiven. I will persevere.
In the words of Lisa Lisa.....I'm "All Cried Out"
I will persevere.
--The Pearl
It is with pain and sadness that I write this. After a lifetime of devoting my life to my greatest pleasure, the theatre, I have given it up. I just don't have what it takes. And thanks to the two of you, that idea has been blasted into my brain.....I just don't have what it takes. While I do appreciate all that you two have done for me, I ask you both just one favor....please don't help me anymore. You two may help me right into my grave.
Since being asked to leave Independence I found my way to the Windy City. That's right, I'm now living and working in Chicago. Home of the Sears Tower, Lake Michigan and Oprah. I called my father and told him that he was right and that I would quite the theatre and never speak of it again. He immediately moved me to Chicago and has made me President of the Midwest Region of Dunbar Savings and Loan. Well, not really President...more like assistant to the President. "You have to start somewhere." Daddy always says.
Chicago is nice.
I have joined a chapter of SA, Sex Anonymous, and have admitted to myself that I am a sex addict. It hurts but I will persevere.
I'm all alone now. For the first time in my life I don't have anyone to share my life with. Again, I will persevere.
I'm living in a small but tasteful one bedroom apartment on the north side of the city. A lovely little area known as Lakeview.....I've gotten to know my neighbor across the hall, Blain. Turns out, he had to give up the theatre also. After his brother, Nathan Lane, became so famous all hope of his success came to an end. He didn't want to be known as Blain Lane, Nathan's brother. Blain Lane is a dear, sweet man.And thankfully he is homosexual so my sex addiction in still kept in check. He comes over occasionally and the two of us sit eating pastry and watching Must See TV. It's not a bad life, really..........
Life is hard....who am I kidding? I have to take the bus for Christ's sake!!!! Do you have any idea what kind of freaks ride public transportation. I must persevere.
I'm trying to put my past life behind me. No more talk of dwarfs, fat ladies or the limbless for me. For now on I am a new lady. I must keep telling myself that. I WILL PERSEVERE.
I cry myself to sleep almost every night. I miss my former life and my former shenanigans. I miss dishing with the two of you. I miss spreading my cooter at any man who walks on by. The last time I showed my cooter in public was at the "Shortbus" cast party. I was doing the limbo and forgot that I was wearing underwear. That bitch, Precious Pits, snapped my picture and now it is all over the internet. My former self would vow to get even with her. But, she is one of God's children and must be forgiven. I will persevere.
In the words of Lisa Lisa.....I'm "All Cried Out"
I will persevere.
--The Pearl
LIBERTY LOOKS FOR THE SILVER LINING
My dearest Pearlsevere and Midge,
I do apologize for responding at long last. I was taken aback, at first, by the evil reference in your most recent correspondence's salutation. I have put that behind me now, for I am sure you were just delusional from your unpleasant journey to Chicago from the far from state of grace you occupied in Independence. I do have to say, not speaking for dearest MC, that if I were to "help you into the grave," as you so eloquently noted, I would have done so many years ago. The reason you are still living today is that my heart couldn't bear being without such a close friend. Besides, my pet, you know as well as I that more damage can be bestowed upon individuals here on Earth, as opposed to the great beyond, even if it is Independence, MO. Kidding...
As for your moving to Chicago, I must say that I do love the Windy City, with all its art and culture...not to mention the Michigan Avenue Barney's. How you must adore it...from afar of course. I don't think the allowance you receive as an assistant affords you the luxury. Although I may be overstepping my bounds by saying this, but in your case, an assistant with the name of Dunbar may carry a bit more weight...as does your father's bankbook.
Now what's this nonsense about joining some little club called Sex Anonymous?? I've never heard of such a thing. I just thought people like you were just called slut, so you can imagine my happiness when I read you were getting the help you need to overcome this horrible situation you've slept you way into. Good luck dear sister. Abstain!! Abstain!! It's a darned good thing you met that nice gay man to assist you in your journey to normalcy. What fun you two must have! I love the gays. So much humor in their lives. And the parties they throw. What would we do without them. Of course we said the same thing about blacks way back when, and look what happened after you damn Yankees took them away. Oh well, that's ancient history. After all, the Mason Dixon Line didn't hinder our getting to be such wonderful friends and confidantes. Not to mention Midge bringing over her West Coast ideals to L'Academie. How she bridged our worlds I'll never know. She has many gifts...a gift of love, a gift of friendship, but where the hell is her gift of gab. Speak up girl!
I'm sure she would echo my sentiment when I tell you how sorry I am that my actions have somewhat led you to becoming a bus-riding, gay-loving, cooter-spreading receptionist. I do also admit that I saw that awful picture Precious Pitts managed to plaster all over God's world wide web. Although, you should have known better. What would Miss Pat Peck say...before she became that love slave thingamajig? Did you forget to put them back on after a last fling before beginning your sex class OR were they never on to begin with? I mean really...the limbo. I knew you were limber, but that was ridiculous. I honestly thought that after the same and ridicule you endured during Precious' wrath was enough for you to learn a valuable lesson. COVER THE COOTER! That's why I helped you out of that unfortunate situation. But when I saw that picture, I decided Precious had gone too far.
With the aid of my trusted personal assistant, I managed to procure a photo of Precious' dear, sweet, innocent as the day is long daughter sans skivvies. It was taken at the annual Winter Charity Auction and Masquerade Barbeque. It just so happens that Precious' daughter Cherry and her band of sorority sisters were in attendance. Imagine my shock and horreur to discover a rather unflattering photograph of, dare I say it, Cherry's bush. It was found on a reel of one of the numerous disposable cameras set up to capture the elegance of the affair. I never would have thought to post it on the internet had I not received a telephone call from Precious demanding the evidence be destroyed. I guess she's used to things like this happening with her little Cherry tart. Well, no one demands anything from a Vermillion, therefore I set out to teach her a lesson.
I do hope you get a chance to see that picture. I know that it's been circulating amongst all circles of people in and about the country. It was just my way of apologizing for having any hand in getting you into your current state of affairs. I figured since you're a changed woman and wouldn't dream of seeking out a revenge on poor Precious who caused you pain. I did it for you. But let us not forget that had you not been such a "cooter-spreadin' harlot," none of this would have happened. As my dear grandmama once said as she was struck dead by a gasoline truck after months of refusing to pay her CLECO (gas and electric) bill, "What comes around, goes around."
My best to you and Blain. Do tell him that I so enjoyed "Encore Encore."
And Midge...kisses. I hope you are doing well. I will just have to adhere to the old adage, "No news is good news."
Toodle loo.
Yours truly and forever,
Former Miss Maid O'Cotton,
Liberty Belle Vermillion
I do apologize for responding at long last. I was taken aback, at first, by the evil reference in your most recent correspondence's salutation. I have put that behind me now, for I am sure you were just delusional from your unpleasant journey to Chicago from the far from state of grace you occupied in Independence. I do have to say, not speaking for dearest MC, that if I were to "help you into the grave," as you so eloquently noted, I would have done so many years ago. The reason you are still living today is that my heart couldn't bear being without such a close friend. Besides, my pet, you know as well as I that more damage can be bestowed upon individuals here on Earth, as opposed to the great beyond, even if it is Independence, MO. Kidding...
As for your moving to Chicago, I must say that I do love the Windy City, with all its art and culture...not to mention the Michigan Avenue Barney's. How you must adore it...from afar of course. I don't think the allowance you receive as an assistant affords you the luxury. Although I may be overstepping my bounds by saying this, but in your case, an assistant with the name of Dunbar may carry a bit more weight...as does your father's bankbook.
Now what's this nonsense about joining some little club called Sex Anonymous?? I've never heard of such a thing. I just thought people like you were just called slut, so you can imagine my happiness when I read you were getting the help you need to overcome this horrible situation you've slept you way into. Good luck dear sister. Abstain!! Abstain!! It's a darned good thing you met that nice gay man to assist you in your journey to normalcy. What fun you two must have! I love the gays. So much humor in their lives. And the parties they throw. What would we do without them. Of course we said the same thing about blacks way back when, and look what happened after you damn Yankees took them away. Oh well, that's ancient history. After all, the Mason Dixon Line didn't hinder our getting to be such wonderful friends and confidantes. Not to mention Midge bringing over her West Coast ideals to L'Academie. How she bridged our worlds I'll never know. She has many gifts...a gift of love, a gift of friendship, but where the hell is her gift of gab. Speak up girl!
I'm sure she would echo my sentiment when I tell you how sorry I am that my actions have somewhat led you to becoming a bus-riding, gay-loving, cooter-spreading receptionist. I do also admit that I saw that awful picture Precious Pitts managed to plaster all over God's world wide web. Although, you should have known better. What would Miss Pat Peck say...before she became that love slave thingamajig? Did you forget to put them back on after a last fling before beginning your sex class OR were they never on to begin with? I mean really...the limbo. I knew you were limber, but that was ridiculous. I honestly thought that after the same and ridicule you endured during Precious' wrath was enough for you to learn a valuable lesson. COVER THE COOTER! That's why I helped you out of that unfortunate situation. But when I saw that picture, I decided Precious had gone too far.
With the aid of my trusted personal assistant, I managed to procure a photo of Precious' dear, sweet, innocent as the day is long daughter sans skivvies. It was taken at the annual Winter Charity Auction and Masquerade Barbeque. It just so happens that Precious' daughter Cherry and her band of sorority sisters were in attendance. Imagine my shock and horreur to discover a rather unflattering photograph of, dare I say it, Cherry's bush. It was found on a reel of one of the numerous disposable cameras set up to capture the elegance of the affair. I never would have thought to post it on the internet had I not received a telephone call from Precious demanding the evidence be destroyed. I guess she's used to things like this happening with her little Cherry tart. Well, no one demands anything from a Vermillion, therefore I set out to teach her a lesson.
I do hope you get a chance to see that picture. I know that it's been circulating amongst all circles of people in and about the country. It was just my way of apologizing for having any hand in getting you into your current state of affairs. I figured since you're a changed woman and wouldn't dream of seeking out a revenge on poor Precious who caused you pain. I did it for you. But let us not forget that had you not been such a "cooter-spreadin' harlot," none of this would have happened. As my dear grandmama once said as she was struck dead by a gasoline truck after months of refusing to pay her CLECO (gas and electric) bill, "What comes around, goes around."
My best to you and Blain. Do tell him that I so enjoyed "Encore Encore."
And Midge...kisses. I hope you are doing well. I will just have to adhere to the old adage, "No news is good news."
Toodle loo.
Yours truly and forever,
Former Miss Maid O'Cotton,
Liberty Belle Vermillion
MIDGE IS CROWNED
My Dearest, Loving, Sweet, Backstabbing, Sniping, Hateful, Sisters:
It is with great pride and pleasure that I, Midge Celestine Peck, inform you of my appointment as Alumnus of the Millennium, at Miss Pat Peck's School of Charm and Reform!!!
The all male alumni committee has seen fit to bestow this honor upon me, without so much as me lifting a finger. I am deeply grateful, and will try to serve with the utmost dignity and respect.
The coronation, er, ceremony, will be on February 29th, of this year. I do hope that the two of you will be able to attend. It would mean so much to me to gaze way down from the dais, and squint to see my two best sisters raising their glasses of Cold Duck in my honor.
I eagerly await your responses.
Kisses and Hugs,
Midge
It is with great pride and pleasure that I, Midge Celestine Peck, inform you of my appointment as Alumnus of the Millennium, at Miss Pat Peck's School of Charm and Reform!!!
The all male alumni committee has seen fit to bestow this honor upon me, without so much as me lifting a finger. I am deeply grateful, and will try to serve with the utmost dignity and respect.
The coronation, er, ceremony, will be on February 29th, of this year. I do hope that the two of you will be able to attend. It would mean so much to me to gaze way down from the dais, and squint to see my two best sisters raising their glasses of Cold Duck in my honor.
I eagerly await your responses.
Kisses and Hugs,
Midge
LIBERTY IS CROWNED AS WELL
My Kind, Wholesome, Humble, Sociopathic, Masochistic, Bitchy Sisters,
Congratulations Midge on your much deserved appointment! It is with great pleasure that I, in turn, inform you and Pearl that I was voted Alumnus of the Millennium, 1st Alternate. If you should not be capable of performing your duties OR continue to exemplify the respected tradition of L'Academie, I would then take your place. Although, my time isn't as spare as some, I would still gladly fulfill my duties as que..I mean, Alumnus. (Enjoy the ride, while it lasts.)
So you see my dear, during the grand ceremony, squinting will not be required (provided you wear the prescription bifocals you've been ashamed to admit you need), for I will be standing aside you, minus a few feet back.
I do hope your outfit of choice will be apropos to l'occasion. I am being fitted for my gown next week. The committee does suggest something befitting Miss Pat Peck's Academy reputation -- not Miss Pat's later penchant for leather and chain mail.
And speaking of the committee, it was so gallant of you to point out that no fingers were lifted before bestowing your honor. (How about a little lower, honey?!) Oh my, I do apologize for that. I guess it was a slip. You know I'm only joking Midge darling. You deserve all you receive. What a shame Pearl's father couldn't purchase this for her. (Slipped again.) Sorry, Pearl Earring. Why so quiet, but the way? Not a peep from you since the whole Pitts debacle.
Well, I do hope this self-imposed reclusion will not halt you from attending Midge's big day. Please, do come. We can all raise a glass to Miss Pat Peck. For if it weren't for her, there would be no cause for glory.
Ta! Bouquets of well wishes!
Forever I remain,
Former Miss Maid of Cotton,
Liberty Belle Vermillion
Congratulations Midge on your much deserved appointment! It is with great pleasure that I, in turn, inform you and Pearl that I was voted Alumnus of the Millennium, 1st Alternate. If you should not be capable of performing your duties OR continue to exemplify the respected tradition of L'Academie, I would then take your place. Although, my time isn't as spare as some, I would still gladly fulfill my duties as que..I mean, Alumnus. (Enjoy the ride, while it lasts.)
So you see my dear, during the grand ceremony, squinting will not be required (provided you wear the prescription bifocals you've been ashamed to admit you need), for I will be standing aside you, minus a few feet back.
I do hope your outfit of choice will be apropos to l'occasion. I am being fitted for my gown next week. The committee does suggest something befitting Miss Pat Peck's Academy reputation -- not Miss Pat's later penchant for leather and chain mail.
And speaking of the committee, it was so gallant of you to point out that no fingers were lifted before bestowing your honor. (How about a little lower, honey?!) Oh my, I do apologize for that. I guess it was a slip. You know I'm only joking Midge darling. You deserve all you receive. What a shame Pearl's father couldn't purchase this for her. (Slipped again.) Sorry, Pearl Earring. Why so quiet, but the way? Not a peep from you since the whole Pitts debacle.
Well, I do hope this self-imposed reclusion will not halt you from attending Midge's big day. Please, do come. We can all raise a glass to Miss Pat Peck. For if it weren't for her, there would be no cause for glory.
Ta! Bouquets of well wishes!
Forever I remain,
Former Miss Maid of Cotton,
Liberty Belle Vermillion
PEARL’S SELF INFLICTED DRAMA
Ladies,
Yes, I am alive and well. I regret to inform the both of you that I, Pearl S. Dunbar...of the Boston Dunbar's, will not be able to attend the coronation of Midge, the Alumnus of the Millennium. It was so nice to read of Midge's honor and of Liberty Belle's jealousy. While the two of you have seen fit to bicker back and forth about this tacky, unnecessary, albeit, delightful title, I have been fighting for my life. That's right, fighting for my life.
My last transmission to the both of you was on November 10, 1999 and what a long, strange trip it has since been. You may remember that I was living in The Windy City and working for my father. I was toiling away at answering phones and fetching cappuccinos for the President of the Midwest Region of Dunbar Savings and Loan, Mr. Herb B. Monett. Herbi (that's what I called him) turned out to be not the nicest of employers. He was constantly taunting me with snide remarks and callous advances. On the afternoon of November 15, 1999 I had had enough.
The day began like any other: Alarm at 6:30 am, snooze until 7:00 am, a quick shower, a Pop Tart, a Coke, a Marlboro Light........then off to the train. Half way to the train platform a freak snowstorm blew in from Lake Michigan and stopped all commuters (and trains) in their tracks. I waited and waited for the next train but to no avail; they had stopped running. The queue at the taxi stand had grown out of control and buses were filled to capacity. I searched for a phone to let Herbi know of my predicament. He was livid. He said snow was no excuse and I had better learn to deal with Chicago weather. What was I to do? I could not let Herbi fire me. My father would certainly cut me off completely. I started to walk. By this time the snow was up to my ankles and wind was racing along at 45 mph. Suddenly a car pulled up along side me and nice looking woman rolled down the window and asked a favor. She asked if I would mind her vehicle while she ran inside the Starbucks. She didn't want to find a place to park and risk stalling her car. As she waited in line for her coffee I could wait no longer. Thoughts of unemployment danced in my head. I couldn't control myself. I hopped in the driver's side and was off. I had stolen this woman's car. I was a madwoman. A madwoman.
I sped downtown thinking of a way to stash the car before work. I pulled into a downtown garage and found an empty spot. It was when I got out of the car I noticed it: The Child Restraint Seat in the backseat WITH a child in it!
Not only was I now guilty of Grand Theft Auto but add abduction to the mix and you've got trouble. What was I to do? I just couldn't leave the toddler to freeze in the non-heated garage. I scooped up the baby and headed for the elevator. When it reached ground level I scurried out and headed for my building. I went in the McDonald's on the lower level and went directly to the ladies room. I quickly scribbled a note:
Please take care of my baby.
I just can't handle this bundle of pure joy.
Give my baby a good home and let him know his mother loved him.
I attached the note to his little bib and hurried up to work. Someone would surely find him soon and take him to the police. I had to get to work. I was late.
Just as I reached my cubicle Herbi called me into his office. As I walked in I noticed he had been crying. He informed me that his wife had been carjacked and his son kidnapped. I panicked. What dumb luck for me to steal his wife's car and his son. I was gone for sure. He asked that I handle the press that was gathering in the lobby. He told me that his wife had to be taken to the hospital and on the verge of a breakdown. Herbi was headed to the hospital where the police assured him of his son's recovery.
Never have I been so terrified in my entire life. What was I to do? With all the courage I could muster I calmed myself and headed downstairs to read a prepared statement from the Monett family. The family was offering a $25,000 reward for the safe return of the baby Matthew and $3,000 for the safe return of the stolen Sports Utility Vehicle.
I handled the onslaught of questions with the efficiency of a White House press secretary. I begged and pleaded for the return of baby Matthew. To myself I wondered why this kid had not been found yet. I could see the McDonalds from my podium. Why had he not been found?
In hindsight, appearing before the press was not such a good idea. I was on every channel and my picture would surely be front and center on that afternoon's paper. Someone would recognize me. I was going to get caught.
I needed a plan and quickly. I had to skip town. The first thing I thought was that you two, my dear sisters Liberty Belle and Midge, would help me hide and find a new identity. I had to get to you. Fast.
After the press conference I jumped in a cab and headed for my apartment. I packed the smallest of suitcases and headed for the Amtrak station. The airport was out of the question (the snow). I bought a ticket for the next train to California which, luckily, was leaving in a few minutes.
To make a long story short I got as far was Tuckahoe, Wyoming.
I was arrested without incident in the parking lot of the International House of Pancakes. I sit here in the Cook County Lock-Up for women awaiting trial for the kidnapping and murder of 8 month old Matthew Monett. The body was never found and they are convinced that I threw him into Lake Michigan. The lake cannot be dragged until the Spring Thaw.
My dear sisters, I did not kill that child. He was alive and well in the Ladies Room of that McDonalds. No one believes me.
So, while the two of you bicker over which one of you deserves to be Alumnus of the Millennium just think about me in the slammer. God knows I'll be thinking of you.
I hope you both can be in attendance at my trial starting on March 6, 2000.
Wishing you well I remain,
Pear S. Dunbar.....of the Boston Dunbars Inmate #13184579782
Yes, I am alive and well. I regret to inform the both of you that I, Pearl S. Dunbar...of the Boston Dunbar's, will not be able to attend the coronation of Midge, the Alumnus of the Millennium. It was so nice to read of Midge's honor and of Liberty Belle's jealousy. While the two of you have seen fit to bicker back and forth about this tacky, unnecessary, albeit, delightful title, I have been fighting for my life. That's right, fighting for my life.
My last transmission to the both of you was on November 10, 1999 and what a long, strange trip it has since been. You may remember that I was living in The Windy City and working for my father. I was toiling away at answering phones and fetching cappuccinos for the President of the Midwest Region of Dunbar Savings and Loan, Mr. Herb B. Monett. Herbi (that's what I called him) turned out to be not the nicest of employers. He was constantly taunting me with snide remarks and callous advances. On the afternoon of November 15, 1999 I had had enough.
The day began like any other: Alarm at 6:30 am, snooze until 7:00 am, a quick shower, a Pop Tart, a Coke, a Marlboro Light........then off to the train. Half way to the train platform a freak snowstorm blew in from Lake Michigan and stopped all commuters (and trains) in their tracks. I waited and waited for the next train but to no avail; they had stopped running. The queue at the taxi stand had grown out of control and buses were filled to capacity. I searched for a phone to let Herbi know of my predicament. He was livid. He said snow was no excuse and I had better learn to deal with Chicago weather. What was I to do? I could not let Herbi fire me. My father would certainly cut me off completely. I started to walk. By this time the snow was up to my ankles and wind was racing along at 45 mph. Suddenly a car pulled up along side me and nice looking woman rolled down the window and asked a favor. She asked if I would mind her vehicle while she ran inside the Starbucks. She didn't want to find a place to park and risk stalling her car. As she waited in line for her coffee I could wait no longer. Thoughts of unemployment danced in my head. I couldn't control myself. I hopped in the driver's side and was off. I had stolen this woman's car. I was a madwoman. A madwoman.
I sped downtown thinking of a way to stash the car before work. I pulled into a downtown garage and found an empty spot. It was when I got out of the car I noticed it: The Child Restraint Seat in the backseat WITH a child in it!
Not only was I now guilty of Grand Theft Auto but add abduction to the mix and you've got trouble. What was I to do? I just couldn't leave the toddler to freeze in the non-heated garage. I scooped up the baby and headed for the elevator. When it reached ground level I scurried out and headed for my building. I went in the McDonald's on the lower level and went directly to the ladies room. I quickly scribbled a note:
Please take care of my baby.
I just can't handle this bundle of pure joy.
Give my baby a good home and let him know his mother loved him.
I attached the note to his little bib and hurried up to work. Someone would surely find him soon and take him to the police. I had to get to work. I was late.
Just as I reached my cubicle Herbi called me into his office. As I walked in I noticed he had been crying. He informed me that his wife had been carjacked and his son kidnapped. I panicked. What dumb luck for me to steal his wife's car and his son. I was gone for sure. He asked that I handle the press that was gathering in the lobby. He told me that his wife had to be taken to the hospital and on the verge of a breakdown. Herbi was headed to the hospital where the police assured him of his son's recovery.
Never have I been so terrified in my entire life. What was I to do? With all the courage I could muster I calmed myself and headed downstairs to read a prepared statement from the Monett family. The family was offering a $25,000 reward for the safe return of the baby Matthew and $3,000 for the safe return of the stolen Sports Utility Vehicle.
I handled the onslaught of questions with the efficiency of a White House press secretary. I begged and pleaded for the return of baby Matthew. To myself I wondered why this kid had not been found yet. I could see the McDonalds from my podium. Why had he not been found?
In hindsight, appearing before the press was not such a good idea. I was on every channel and my picture would surely be front and center on that afternoon's paper. Someone would recognize me. I was going to get caught.
I needed a plan and quickly. I had to skip town. The first thing I thought was that you two, my dear sisters Liberty Belle and Midge, would help me hide and find a new identity. I had to get to you. Fast.
After the press conference I jumped in a cab and headed for my apartment. I packed the smallest of suitcases and headed for the Amtrak station. The airport was out of the question (the snow). I bought a ticket for the next train to California which, luckily, was leaving in a few minutes.
To make a long story short I got as far was Tuckahoe, Wyoming.
I was arrested without incident in the parking lot of the International House of Pancakes. I sit here in the Cook County Lock-Up for women awaiting trial for the kidnapping and murder of 8 month old Matthew Monett. The body was never found and they are convinced that I threw him into Lake Michigan. The lake cannot be dragged until the Spring Thaw.
My dear sisters, I did not kill that child. He was alive and well in the Ladies Room of that McDonalds. No one believes me.
So, while the two of you bicker over which one of you deserves to be Alumnus of the Millennium just think about me in the slammer. God knows I'll be thinking of you.
I hope you both can be in attendance at my trial starting on March 6, 2000.
Wishing you well I remain,
Pear S. Dunbar.....of the Boston Dunbars Inmate #13184579782
MIDGE CONSOLES…WITH A WARNING
Pearl, (You Idiot!!!)
It is with great sadness and a heavy heart that I heard of your unfortunate incarceration. Although not surprised at the circumstances; the depths of your stupidity never ceases to amaze me!! Every time you are bailed out of one adverse situation, you turn around and step into another. This time, nobody can bail you out. It seems that you are a flight risk due to your
attempt at reaching California, and your dear sisters. What were you thinking!?! I cannot speak for Liberty, due to her current stint in rehab and her ongoing battle with the huffing of Wite-Out, but to even think that we could (or would) help you out of this situation is absolute lunacy!!
Not since your fornication with the icing delivery man in the back of the Krispy Kreme Donut Shop, has your judgment been so far from reasonable. That escapade resulted in not only a hit being placed on you by his Mafia princess girlfriend, but also burning the shop (and the strip mall it was located in) to the ground after your human hair fell, tumbled into the deep fat fryer and ignited a blaze that the local fire department still compares to the Great Chicago Inferno. Straightening out that little boo-boo, took Liberty and I almost six months, and resulted in poor Liberty's indentured sexual servitude to the Mafia Don, and his gang of hairy, oversexed goons!! What can we possibly do this time?
Until Miss Made O' Cotton and I can formulate a plan, you need to keep a VERY low profile. I've heard of the Cook County Lock-Up for Women, and of the notorious Matron, Big Aggie. Do whatever you can to be sent to Solitary Confinement!! Start a fight with another inmate, trash your cell, make crude and obscene soap carvings of the warden, anything!!! You DO NOT want to get on Big Aggie's bad side.
You may recognize Big Aggie, and well you should. Her name is Agatha Coons-Esterhaus, an alumni of Miss Pat Peck's, and one that hates the three of us. In addition to the fact that she weighs in at almost 275lbs.(and always has) She attended La' Academie as one of the pity cases of the county. Always fat and ugly, she also possessed no talent, and is a confirmed hermaphrodite. She hated us for our beauty, talent and lineage, and took every opportunity to make our lives miserable. I'm sure she has never forgiven us for trying to sell her to the sideshow freaks to raise extra money to bribe the judges of spirit week, and ensure our sweep of every homecoming event. Especially after her refusal of our offer to make her the float in the homecoming parade. The Coons-Esterhaus' are a mean spirited, backwards hillbilly clan, and are considered quite dangerous. That sequence in "Deliverance" was based on their wealthier, more advanced cousins. Play it safe at all costs!!
I am sending my personal lawyer Rolo Brand, to assist in your hopeless looking defense. Please cooperate with him fully. I will consult with Liberty as to our next move. Until then our thoughts and prayers are with you, even as we ascend to new heights as Alumnus of the Millennium and her handmaid, er 1st Runner Up.
Love to you my little Inmate #13184579782,
Midge Celestine Peck - Alumnus Extraordinaire!!
It is with great sadness and a heavy heart that I heard of your unfortunate incarceration. Although not surprised at the circumstances; the depths of your stupidity never ceases to amaze me!! Every time you are bailed out of one adverse situation, you turn around and step into another. This time, nobody can bail you out. It seems that you are a flight risk due to your
attempt at reaching California, and your dear sisters. What were you thinking!?! I cannot speak for Liberty, due to her current stint in rehab and her ongoing battle with the huffing of Wite-Out, but to even think that we could (or would) help you out of this situation is absolute lunacy!!
Not since your fornication with the icing delivery man in the back of the Krispy Kreme Donut Shop, has your judgment been so far from reasonable. That escapade resulted in not only a hit being placed on you by his Mafia princess girlfriend, but also burning the shop (and the strip mall it was located in) to the ground after your human hair fell, tumbled into the deep fat fryer and ignited a blaze that the local fire department still compares to the Great Chicago Inferno. Straightening out that little boo-boo, took Liberty and I almost six months, and resulted in poor Liberty's indentured sexual servitude to the Mafia Don, and his gang of hairy, oversexed goons!! What can we possibly do this time?
Until Miss Made O' Cotton and I can formulate a plan, you need to keep a VERY low profile. I've heard of the Cook County Lock-Up for Women, and of the notorious Matron, Big Aggie. Do whatever you can to be sent to Solitary Confinement!! Start a fight with another inmate, trash your cell, make crude and obscene soap carvings of the warden, anything!!! You DO NOT want to get on Big Aggie's bad side.
You may recognize Big Aggie, and well you should. Her name is Agatha Coons-Esterhaus, an alumni of Miss Pat Peck's, and one that hates the three of us. In addition to the fact that she weighs in at almost 275lbs.(and always has) She attended La' Academie as one of the pity cases of the county. Always fat and ugly, she also possessed no talent, and is a confirmed hermaphrodite. She hated us for our beauty, talent and lineage, and took every opportunity to make our lives miserable. I'm sure she has never forgiven us for trying to sell her to the sideshow freaks to raise extra money to bribe the judges of spirit week, and ensure our sweep of every homecoming event. Especially after her refusal of our offer to make her the float in the homecoming parade. The Coons-Esterhaus' are a mean spirited, backwards hillbilly clan, and are considered quite dangerous. That sequence in "Deliverance" was based on their wealthier, more advanced cousins. Play it safe at all costs!!
I am sending my personal lawyer Rolo Brand, to assist in your hopeless looking defense. Please cooperate with him fully. I will consult with Liberty as to our next move. Until then our thoughts and prayers are with you, even as we ascend to new heights as Alumnus of the Millennium and her handmaid, er 1st Runner Up.
Love to you my little Inmate #13184579782,
Midge Celestine Peck - Alumnus Extraordinaire!!
LIBERTY IS ON THE CASE
Quelle damage! Quelle surprise!
Pearl Pearl Pearl. After hearing of your unfortunate situation, I took my last whiff of Wite-Out, phoned any and all Vermillion connections in Chicago to no avail, and began to plot out our plan to once again save you from the depths to which you've sunk. First off, I hope this proves to you that any effort you pursue to prove yourself without the help and finances of your loving family is forever futile. It simply cannot be done. For this, my dear, is the last straw. Since we vowed so long ago to always be there for one another, (except for an occasional masquerade charity bbq that I host annually and you seem to miss) Midge and I will do our best to solve this crisis. After all, that's what esteemed alumni do for one another. After all, your father so graciously paid for therapy I incurred due to the six months I spent as Don Carlo Marrero's "love slave." And don't let my stint in rehab worry you, for I am now on leave, probation you might say, and am free to leave the state if necessary...and believe me, this warrants it.
So, after our coronation at the Alumnus gala this eve, I am heading over to Midge's in my new "just got out of rehab" black Volvo wagon to find Baby Matthew. After all, a little time in Lock up may do you some good. Trust me, many nights in the hospital, alone in my room, I would reflect on choices I've made that have rendered me paralyzed as to what is right and what is wrong. This is your time, Pearl Necklace. Also, I'd heed Midge's words carefully in respect to Agatha!
Remember the time we tried to trim her goatee so that she'd be a suitable partner for Dane Mesinjer at the Sesquicentennial Same Sex Sunday Social? She was so mad!! I thought we'd never get over what she did to us in return. I mean really! We were only trying to help. She was totally out of line for re-routing our weekend performance at the Blue Ridge Mountain Observatory for the Blind to the Carolina Retreat and Recovery Unit for the Southeast Chapter of Diabetic Epileptics. Big Aggie knew that our recent foray into laser light spectacles and peppermint pat-downs would result in a massive display of discord and disobedience, not to mention the horrible impalement Midge suffered. Wasn't it you, Pearl, that managed to settle their nerves whilst I hot-wired the shuttle van to bring us safely home? Our mistake was instead of talking it out with Agatha, we plotted our revenge. Of course we did go to far with the Sideshow fiasco, but that's beside the point...just keep away. If you are around her, whatever trouble she's in, will become yours.
Back to the plan...I think that it's best that we start with the McDonald's you allegedly abandoned poor Baby Matthew. He is the key to dismissing the murder wrap. If we can find him, I'm sure you and Rolo can work out some sort of deal that will enable you to bypass any abduction charge. We'll need to dig deep into your boss' background. It seems that the only way out of this is to somehow convince the Monett's that you are totally innocent. Since this is the hardest thing to do, considering your checkered past, a plea may be in order...unless you know something my dear....anything on him or his wife. Why did she let a total stranger into her car, with her child in tow? What kind of mother would do such a thing? Unless she knew who you were! Think hard! It doesn't seem that far off base that someone could be out to get YOU! Haven't the Dunbars always had to face countless ordeals such as this one, usually when you are concerned?? We must keep all possibilities open. Boy, little did I know that Matlock Mondays at "camp" (my little nickname for rehab) would come in handy. Oh well...more to come once we arrive.
We need as much information on the Monett family as possible, especially the wife. Who knows? Maybe in the huge realm of our social circles, she may be familiar to someone. Now I don't want to worry you thinking that someone is out to get you. I just want to exhaust all avenues. I, for one, do not want to spend any more of my precious time in some sort of sick and twisted servitude in order to save you again. I've suffered enough...and so have you Pearl Creme. And Midge, I'm sure you're suffering right along with us, although to some it may not be as obvious. You seem to know an awful lot about our lives and the feeling is not mutual. I do love you my sister in Peck, but if we're going to help Pearl Harbor out of this debacle, we must communicate. That's why I'm so looking forward to working with you on this case. Without you, I don't know what I'd do.
On that note, my only concern is for the city of Chicago...for here we come, in gowns and crowns, ready to find ourselves a toddler!
Loads of love to all!
Keep the faith dear my little #13184579782 sister! And Midge...let's go girl!
Forever I remain,
Liberty Belle Vermillion.
Pearl Pearl Pearl. After hearing of your unfortunate situation, I took my last whiff of Wite-Out, phoned any and all Vermillion connections in Chicago to no avail, and began to plot out our plan to once again save you from the depths to which you've sunk. First off, I hope this proves to you that any effort you pursue to prove yourself without the help and finances of your loving family is forever futile. It simply cannot be done. For this, my dear, is the last straw. Since we vowed so long ago to always be there for one another, (except for an occasional masquerade charity bbq that I host annually and you seem to miss) Midge and I will do our best to solve this crisis. After all, that's what esteemed alumni do for one another. After all, your father so graciously paid for therapy I incurred due to the six months I spent as Don Carlo Marrero's "love slave." And don't let my stint in rehab worry you, for I am now on leave, probation you might say, and am free to leave the state if necessary...and believe me, this warrants it.
So, after our coronation at the Alumnus gala this eve, I am heading over to Midge's in my new "just got out of rehab" black Volvo wagon to find Baby Matthew. After all, a little time in Lock up may do you some good. Trust me, many nights in the hospital, alone in my room, I would reflect on choices I've made that have rendered me paralyzed as to what is right and what is wrong. This is your time, Pearl Necklace. Also, I'd heed Midge's words carefully in respect to Agatha!
Remember the time we tried to trim her goatee so that she'd be a suitable partner for Dane Mesinjer at the Sesquicentennial Same Sex Sunday Social? She was so mad!! I thought we'd never get over what she did to us in return. I mean really! We were only trying to help. She was totally out of line for re-routing our weekend performance at the Blue Ridge Mountain Observatory for the Blind to the Carolina Retreat and Recovery Unit for the Southeast Chapter of Diabetic Epileptics. Big Aggie knew that our recent foray into laser light spectacles and peppermint pat-downs would result in a massive display of discord and disobedience, not to mention the horrible impalement Midge suffered. Wasn't it you, Pearl, that managed to settle their nerves whilst I hot-wired the shuttle van to bring us safely home? Our mistake was instead of talking it out with Agatha, we plotted our revenge. Of course we did go to far with the Sideshow fiasco, but that's beside the point...just keep away. If you are around her, whatever trouble she's in, will become yours.
Back to the plan...I think that it's best that we start with the McDonald's you allegedly abandoned poor Baby Matthew. He is the key to dismissing the murder wrap. If we can find him, I'm sure you and Rolo can work out some sort of deal that will enable you to bypass any abduction charge. We'll need to dig deep into your boss' background. It seems that the only way out of this is to somehow convince the Monett's that you are totally innocent. Since this is the hardest thing to do, considering your checkered past, a plea may be in order...unless you know something my dear....anything on him or his wife. Why did she let a total stranger into her car, with her child in tow? What kind of mother would do such a thing? Unless she knew who you were! Think hard! It doesn't seem that far off base that someone could be out to get YOU! Haven't the Dunbars always had to face countless ordeals such as this one, usually when you are concerned?? We must keep all possibilities open. Boy, little did I know that Matlock Mondays at "camp" (my little nickname for rehab) would come in handy. Oh well...more to come once we arrive.
We need as much information on the Monett family as possible, especially the wife. Who knows? Maybe in the huge realm of our social circles, she may be familiar to someone. Now I don't want to worry you thinking that someone is out to get you. I just want to exhaust all avenues. I, for one, do not want to spend any more of my precious time in some sort of sick and twisted servitude in order to save you again. I've suffered enough...and so have you Pearl Creme. And Midge, I'm sure you're suffering right along with us, although to some it may not be as obvious. You seem to know an awful lot about our lives and the feeling is not mutual. I do love you my sister in Peck, but if we're going to help Pearl Harbor out of this debacle, we must communicate. That's why I'm so looking forward to working with you on this case. Without you, I don't know what I'd do.
On that note, my only concern is for the city of Chicago...for here we come, in gowns and crowns, ready to find ourselves a toddler!
Loads of love to all!
Keep the faith dear my little #13184579782 sister! And Midge...let's go girl!
Forever I remain,
Liberty Belle Vermillion.
LIBERTY DREAMS
Dearest Midge,
It is with great sadness and fright that I send you this message. Last night, moments before I fell into my unsettling slumber after hearing of your illegitimate father Gregory's death, I dreamt that we had graduated MPPACR, fast forwarded some ten years into adulthood, and were on our way to rescue that strange girl from dirty money - Pearl S. Dunbar (of the Boston Dunbars) from incarceration. PS - Please give your mother Alma, and the entire Materossa family my condolences.
Now, I don't put it past her involvement with child abduction for fifteen minutes of fame and glory, but why were we helping her? I seem to recall acknowledging her presence a scant twenty minutes in my entire 3 years here at L'Academie. As far as I know, you've given her less face time than that.
Could it be that it is in our best interest to befriend this friendless hairy-armed socialite? Although I've heard nothing but pseudo-niceties when it comes to her carriage and misdemeanors, I don't know if I can bear witness to her bouts of overacting, sustenance issues and freakish financial accuracy. What do you think?
I'm trying to put into practice all the learnings Prof. Ginsberg Mueller-Stahl instilled in us during our Sleep Therapy outing at the Wilsonville Nudist Colony, by examining the meaning behind the dream. The first thing that came to mind was that this furry girl needs our assistance, tout suite.
Let's discuss. A first step might be to invite her to band tryouts. I do remember her mentioning she adored Journey. That's a great start, don't you think?
Peace, love and girl power.
Liberty BV.
It is with great sadness and fright that I send you this message. Last night, moments before I fell into my unsettling slumber after hearing of your illegitimate father Gregory's death, I dreamt that we had graduated MPPACR, fast forwarded some ten years into adulthood, and were on our way to rescue that strange girl from dirty money - Pearl S. Dunbar (of the Boston Dunbars) from incarceration. PS - Please give your mother Alma, and the entire Materossa family my condolences.
Now, I don't put it past her involvement with child abduction for fifteen minutes of fame and glory, but why were we helping her? I seem to recall acknowledging her presence a scant twenty minutes in my entire 3 years here at L'Academie. As far as I know, you've given her less face time than that.
Could it be that it is in our best interest to befriend this friendless hairy-armed socialite? Although I've heard nothing but pseudo-niceties when it comes to her carriage and misdemeanors, I don't know if I can bear witness to her bouts of overacting, sustenance issues and freakish financial accuracy. What do you think?
I'm trying to put into practice all the learnings Prof. Ginsberg Mueller-Stahl instilled in us during our Sleep Therapy outing at the Wilsonville Nudist Colony, by examining the meaning behind the dream. The first thing that came to mind was that this furry girl needs our assistance, tout suite.
Let's discuss. A first step might be to invite her to band tryouts. I do remember her mentioning she adored Journey. That's a great start, don't you think?
Peace, love and girl power.
Liberty BV.
MIDGE MISSIVE ON LIFE, LOVE AND LEFT EYE
My Lovely Liberty Belle, Sleigh Belle, Belle Watling, Belle Du Jour, Belle Epoch,
First, may I say greetings? It is with great interest, and a HUGE dry Martini that I read your missive. I am quite impressed with you finally tracking me down here in Ecuador, but more on that later.
Since you and I finally managed to work our way through the quagmire that our cloudy brained Pearl had managed to get herself into, and go our separate ways to regroup, I feel the need to assure you that our experiences were indeed NOT a dream. They were more like a real life nightmare. When I suggested Electro shock therapy for you after all we went through, it was a lighthearted joke. Unless of course, you have been enjoying your usual julep drip, and are still trying to put all that occurred out of your head.
We did find Baby Matthew, only to discover that he was actually an ice dancing dwarf named Sid, hired by the sister in law of Mr. Herb B. Monett, one Theodora Bennett-Smyth. It seems that Mrs. Cesaria Drusilla Monett (Herb's wife and Theodora's sister), had given the real baby Matthew a sleeping potion and made him comfortable under her house, while she hatched her evil plan to ensnare and destroy our Pearl Brilliance. (As if Dunbar hadn't done an adequate enough job all along on her own.) It seems that our sweet and overbearingly nosy Pearl had stumbled upon Cesaria's evil, diabolical plan. I know that Pearl can explain this far better than I. Martini's, humidity and the altitude here in Ecuador have made my thought processes sluggish and unresponsive.
I did promise to fill you in on my whereabouts and activities of the past couple of years. After destroying Cesaria Monett's plan, clearing Pearl's name and placing her safely in the bosom of her family (well, with her crazy, gin addled, hirsute armed Aunt) I headed back to my family compound in the Napa Valley. As you know, due to the ultra dramatic behavior that we all have exhibited over the years, I asked, no, begged for a well-deserved sabbatical. I realized that life in my little artists colony was too constricting after all of the country crossing we've done over the years, springing one another out of countless jams, and performing with our Journey cover band. So I packed my small, well lit make-up case, and jetted off to the City of Lights. No, not Kansas City, MO, but Paris, France. I thought a few months of wine swilling and unshaven legs and armpits would renew my sense of well being. I also was hoping on anonymity and casual and frequent sex with Pakistani immigrants. Instead what I found was myself embroiled in another adventure without the help of my half witted, er, I mean, my loving sisters.
Quite simply, I fell in love. His name was Buddy Holly-Dali, an illegitimate offspring of that great impressionist painter, Salvador Dali. Buddy's mother was a great fan of that lead singer of the Crickets, and also loved the rhyme of the names together. Buddy also had a huge, unrequited love for a singer, one Lisa (Left Eye) Lopez, from the R&B uber- group, TLC. How many times had he forced me to perform the part of Chili to the single "Waterfalls," while his stroke addled mother grunted out the part sung by T-Boz? But that is neither here nor there.
It seems that he and Left Eye had met one rainy night on the Eiffel Tower. Buddy had gone there to try and clear his constantly clogged right sinus cavity. They had one passionate encounter beneath one of the bridges along the Seine. It turns out after his Ecstasy and NyQuil wore off, she was really just an East Indian drag queen prostitute who had a missing left eye. It was easier, and cheaper for her to keep a condom where her eye used to be. She had lost her eye in a bitch fight with another drag queen ho called Indiana Carmen Jones. This was one mean bitch, who was famous for her long, synthetic fake nails, and a penchant for scratching faces. He still saw this as some sort of sign that he and Left Eye were meant to be together. When he realized that I had a fortune at my disposal, (it pays to marry rich, and often) he slipped a roofie into my morning cola and Amaretto, and spirited me off to Ecuador to follow her while she did her good works. As you can well imagine, I was not well for this little escapade when I came to in the back of a Jeep Grand Cherokee wrapped in mosquito netting and being fingered by a toothless shaman who preferred to be called Lloyd. Not only was I now in the dangerous jungles of Central America, with the dirty finger of a shaman in my Pretty, but that bitch Left Eye was in Nicaragua, not Ecuador!!
Needless to say my dear alum's, I needed to beat a hasty retreat, douche, and catch the first supply plane out of that God forsaken place. I needed a plan and fast!! Since I have practiced my Keegle exercises since the sixth grade, knowing that one day a tight Fancy would serve me well, it was easy to snap Lloyd's unwashed digit and roll off the back of the jeep while he writhed in pain. I quickly cut my way out of the netting, utilizing the sharp edge of our class ring, and slithered into the jungle underbrush. I lay very still, wondering if they would return to look for me, but apparently Lloyd did not want to draw attention to the reasons for his now crushed index finger, so my suitor Buddy never even glanced back in my direction. I quickly remembered our MPP training in "Posture and Jungle Warfare", and set up a spike camp in the heart of the jungle. Much to my pleasure, it was still very easy to carry wood on my head and walk heel to toe while crossing snake infested rivers. I covered my self in mud and palm fronds to hide myself, and fell into a deep slumber. I awoke to amazingly soft skin, and a gun barrel shoved quite close to my personal Southern Hemisphere. What was it with these wacky Nicaraguans and their fondness for my Whisper?
I had been discovered by a band of Lesbian Nicaraguan rebels, who seemed to have ideas about revolution that involved my Kitten. I quickly told them of my violation at the hands, or actually, the finger of Lloyd, and they seemed calmed, but not sated. Now Liberty Belle, I do not want you to be angry, but in order to secure my release, I showed them the picture that I carry of you and Pearl Diver. I promised that they could literally drop in on you and your Dyke commune for a little R&R, and I was set free. Sorry Pearl Drops, but they have no fondness for fuzzy armed women. I realize Liberty, that you are not a lesbian, but a desperate situation called for desperate measures. So when a large group of unwashed Mary Kay consultants (don't ask) arrive on your doorstep, DO NOT ANSWER!
So, that my lovelies, is my story up to now. Here I sit on my coffee plantation in Ecuador, with my darling Lloyd by my side. He turned out to really not be so bad after a splint, bar of Lava soap, and a manicure. I loved it so much here; that I thought I would stay for a while, wear loose cotton dresses, and allow my sexy shaman to attend to my Princess like it deserves. As for Buddy, the last I heard, he was seen building a shrine in Nicaragua to Miss Lopez, and getting high on bat guano.
Please let me know how you are both doing. I shall return to the states soon for the annual Friends of the Alumni BBQ & Bingo Tournament, and the Sadie Hawkins Afternoon Delight Jamboree.
All of my love,
Midge Celestine Peck
First, may I say greetings? It is with great interest, and a HUGE dry Martini that I read your missive. I am quite impressed with you finally tracking me down here in Ecuador, but more on that later.
Since you and I finally managed to work our way through the quagmire that our cloudy brained Pearl had managed to get herself into, and go our separate ways to regroup, I feel the need to assure you that our experiences were indeed NOT a dream. They were more like a real life nightmare. When I suggested Electro shock therapy for you after all we went through, it was a lighthearted joke. Unless of course, you have been enjoying your usual julep drip, and are still trying to put all that occurred out of your head.
We did find Baby Matthew, only to discover that he was actually an ice dancing dwarf named Sid, hired by the sister in law of Mr. Herb B. Monett, one Theodora Bennett-Smyth. It seems that Mrs. Cesaria Drusilla Monett (Herb's wife and Theodora's sister), had given the real baby Matthew a sleeping potion and made him comfortable under her house, while she hatched her evil plan to ensnare and destroy our Pearl Brilliance. (As if Dunbar hadn't done an adequate enough job all along on her own.) It seems that our sweet and overbearingly nosy Pearl had stumbled upon Cesaria's evil, diabolical plan. I know that Pearl can explain this far better than I. Martini's, humidity and the altitude here in Ecuador have made my thought processes sluggish and unresponsive.
I did promise to fill you in on my whereabouts and activities of the past couple of years. After destroying Cesaria Monett's plan, clearing Pearl's name and placing her safely in the bosom of her family (well, with her crazy, gin addled, hirsute armed Aunt) I headed back to my family compound in the Napa Valley. As you know, due to the ultra dramatic behavior that we all have exhibited over the years, I asked, no, begged for a well-deserved sabbatical. I realized that life in my little artists colony was too constricting after all of the country crossing we've done over the years, springing one another out of countless jams, and performing with our Journey cover band. So I packed my small, well lit make-up case, and jetted off to the City of Lights. No, not Kansas City, MO, but Paris, France. I thought a few months of wine swilling and unshaven legs and armpits would renew my sense of well being. I also was hoping on anonymity and casual and frequent sex with Pakistani immigrants. Instead what I found was myself embroiled in another adventure without the help of my half witted, er, I mean, my loving sisters.
Quite simply, I fell in love. His name was Buddy Holly-Dali, an illegitimate offspring of that great impressionist painter, Salvador Dali. Buddy's mother was a great fan of that lead singer of the Crickets, and also loved the rhyme of the names together. Buddy also had a huge, unrequited love for a singer, one Lisa (Left Eye) Lopez, from the R&B uber- group, TLC. How many times had he forced me to perform the part of Chili to the single "Waterfalls," while his stroke addled mother grunted out the part sung by T-Boz? But that is neither here nor there.
It seems that he and Left Eye had met one rainy night on the Eiffel Tower. Buddy had gone there to try and clear his constantly clogged right sinus cavity. They had one passionate encounter beneath one of the bridges along the Seine. It turns out after his Ecstasy and NyQuil wore off, she was really just an East Indian drag queen prostitute who had a missing left eye. It was easier, and cheaper for her to keep a condom where her eye used to be. She had lost her eye in a bitch fight with another drag queen ho called Indiana Carmen Jones. This was one mean bitch, who was famous for her long, synthetic fake nails, and a penchant for scratching faces. He still saw this as some sort of sign that he and Left Eye were meant to be together. When he realized that I had a fortune at my disposal, (it pays to marry rich, and often) he slipped a roofie into my morning cola and Amaretto, and spirited me off to Ecuador to follow her while she did her good works. As you can well imagine, I was not well for this little escapade when I came to in the back of a Jeep Grand Cherokee wrapped in mosquito netting and being fingered by a toothless shaman who preferred to be called Lloyd. Not only was I now in the dangerous jungles of Central America, with the dirty finger of a shaman in my Pretty, but that bitch Left Eye was in Nicaragua, not Ecuador!!
Needless to say my dear alum's, I needed to beat a hasty retreat, douche, and catch the first supply plane out of that God forsaken place. I needed a plan and fast!! Since I have practiced my Keegle exercises since the sixth grade, knowing that one day a tight Fancy would serve me well, it was easy to snap Lloyd's unwashed digit and roll off the back of the jeep while he writhed in pain. I quickly cut my way out of the netting, utilizing the sharp edge of our class ring, and slithered into the jungle underbrush. I lay very still, wondering if they would return to look for me, but apparently Lloyd did not want to draw attention to the reasons for his now crushed index finger, so my suitor Buddy never even glanced back in my direction. I quickly remembered our MPP training in "Posture and Jungle Warfare", and set up a spike camp in the heart of the jungle. Much to my pleasure, it was still very easy to carry wood on my head and walk heel to toe while crossing snake infested rivers. I covered my self in mud and palm fronds to hide myself, and fell into a deep slumber. I awoke to amazingly soft skin, and a gun barrel shoved quite close to my personal Southern Hemisphere. What was it with these wacky Nicaraguans and their fondness for my Whisper?
I had been discovered by a band of Lesbian Nicaraguan rebels, who seemed to have ideas about revolution that involved my Kitten. I quickly told them of my violation at the hands, or actually, the finger of Lloyd, and they seemed calmed, but not sated. Now Liberty Belle, I do not want you to be angry, but in order to secure my release, I showed them the picture that I carry of you and Pearl Diver. I promised that they could literally drop in on you and your Dyke commune for a little R&R, and I was set free. Sorry Pearl Drops, but they have no fondness for fuzzy armed women. I realize Liberty, that you are not a lesbian, but a desperate situation called for desperate measures. So when a large group of unwashed Mary Kay consultants (don't ask) arrive on your doorstep, DO NOT ANSWER!
So, that my lovelies, is my story up to now. Here I sit on my coffee plantation in Ecuador, with my darling Lloyd by my side. He turned out to really not be so bad after a splint, bar of Lava soap, and a manicure. I loved it so much here; that I thought I would stay for a while, wear loose cotton dresses, and allow my sexy shaman to attend to my Princess like it deserves. As for Buddy, the last I heard, he was seen building a shrine in Nicaragua to Miss Lopez, and getting high on bat guano.
Please let me know how you are both doing. I shall return to the states soon for the annual Friends of the Alumni BBQ & Bingo Tournament, and the Sadie Hawkins Afternoon Delight Jamboree.
All of my love,
Midge Celestine Peck
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