Tuesday, July 17, 2012


I feel bad about Kitty Wells. You know we listen to and make a lot of our own country music in The Pines. Washboard bands...Jug bands... Banjo players... We got it all. Pin-Head-Mel plays a good banjo and some a them Red Paint women are good clog dancers too. Ninety two years old. She was so young. Guess my views about longevity is kind a screwed, livin' with vampires and all. Do I want to be a vampire? (sigh) Truthfully, I do not know. Sure, I'm curious. I mean why do they call it 'the after life'? If it's so good, why ain't it named 'the better life'? I do not want to be a murderess, though and blood is too salty  for my taste. I know. I tried it as a kid. You know how you lick around boo-boo's and run your tongue over scabs and all? Well, I ain't ready to make a meal outta that. Tomas knows. We talk. He laughs when I tell him. Says it all looks different from 'the other side.' Mister Edith, my latest husband, says he'd take a powder if I ever go vampire on him. But I tell him not to worry. Figure if I was gonna do that, I'd drop like forty five pounds and get my titties fixed. Don't wanna look like no greasy skinned virago forever, you know. Can you imagine a vampire who has to buy her clothes from Lane Bryant? That would kill me...again, I mean.

I don't know what's gonna happen with that Russian life-eater. You see, Papa DOES stuff like that. He is SO impulsive. Consequences don't mean shit to him. Yeah, sure, I know they kept him locked up in a Roman dungeon all those years. I know he battled mastodons and wild, female 'cave' women. But, hell, everybody got their cross to bear. Know what I mean? And he IS over twenty eight thousand years old. Talks 'bout Elvis and Cab Calloway like they was yesterday. 

He does look nice in a suit, though. Look nice outta one too. I know. Seen him comin' out of a shower like eighteen or twenty five times. What am I gonna do...lie? He don't care and I gotta go in to clean up after anyway. Mister Edith don't know 'bout all that. Well, maybe he does...(sigh) He does. I know. But what am I supposed to do while he off strummin' on the ole banjo?

Vampires is basically a very disorganized nationality. I ain't never heard a no band big enough to need no 'king.' If that was to happen, some a them would just pick up and shove off. They do like their space. Yeah, I know, counting Blackie and Minnie and all we got like eleven (counting the 'elves' but not counting the 'cherubs'). Still, we do not see them much. And the Chevalier Jean-Michel is in another parallel universe, so he don't count for nothin', OK?

Sarah got back with Annie. They playin' 'Hootchie Barbies' right now. Annie do them voices real good. Got 'em bitch slappin' a one armed G.I. Joe doll. He like a sick pimp, or somethin'. Part a his velvet hair got rubbed off. Guess he got a case a the pimp mange.

Sarah DID remember to bring me back a new tube a fuzzy lip cream. She is good that way. So lemme go in the bathroom and fix myself up a little. 

Who knows? Maybe I do wanna be a vampire (some day) after all. But first I gotta get out them old Richard Simmons tapes...... or join Weight Watcher, or somethin'....

Oh, I once saw a vampire Santie-Claus in the old, Philadelphia Gimbels store and he was fat...But he was the only one.....

Dear God...Make Papa kill that Russian son-a-bitch...or make somebody kill him....

That's all...... Good night...


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