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As we all know, the magic (or burden) of vampirism settles on each and every one of us quite differently. Some share the experience, while others are more reticent. They keep to themselves, smiling at the neighbors, always after dark and doing their best to blend into the background. This is the story of one such shrinking violet.
Betty was born in 1870. She lived in a big, old frame house with a wrap around porch and all the necessary relatives and equipment. They pushed her around in a big, wicker perambulator and fed her cream and berries. Mister Davenport, the portrait photographer came every six months to capture her likeness, lest they ever forget.
And when she turned eighteen she came out , which at that time signaled a willingness to breed. So they bought her a white dress trimmed with tiny pink roses and showed her to all the boys. Three months later she was promised to the second son of a very prosperous wooden leg manufacturer. No arms. No heads. Just legs. The man was a specialist. And besides, people didn't think the artificial heads were really all that effective anyway.
Her father-in-law paid for a sweet, little brick cottage , with a grape arbor in the back and a large, Canadian housekeeper named Ciss... (I think she was running from The Mounties). The furnishings were very unique. Every chair, table and console had human shaped limbs, most complete with carefully carved toenails, some with realistic bunions. It's rumored they were 'seconds' from the factory... but no one ever said.
In due time there were two children, a boy called Sunny Jim and a girl child known as Babette. They spent summers at a large, commodious rustic cottage in The Adirondacks, paddling canoes and persecuting the few remaining Indians. Betty painted water colors and sampled all the sherry.
Now they tell me I have to speed things up because the battery's starting to run down and wilkravitz (who channels this all) has to go take a piss... So I will.
The kids got married (thankfully, not to each other) and produced two adorable offspring (one each). Sunny Jim had Zeke (with the help of a wife) and Babette had Miranda (with the assistance of a very dedicated chauffeur). They went 'round the park for hours.
But when the market crashed in twenty nine, Sunny Jim (now, not so much) ran off with a professional female rodeo clown from France. She can-can'ed her way through the west. And Babette, unfortunately, was carried off by the REAL King Kong, one day as she lunched in the roof garden of an upper crust, New York hotel. I don't know where he took her.
Betty, ever the dutiful nana, raised the grandchildren as her own. She hired a man dressed as Santa to sit on a chair, down in the laundry room, full time. They sat on his lap every day. Needless to say, Betty supplied the candy canes. She taught them to eat with chopsticks and play mah-jong with old, rich Jews. Some say she inspired a Broadway play.
One cold December day, she went out to buy their presents, a nasty, little, castrated monkey, dressed like Mussolini for the boy... and a Shirley Temple look-a-like for the girl. Boy, did her parents want an arm and a leg. But she could pout like a champ. I got to tell you that. Anyway, all the stores were jammed and taxi cabs were hard to come by. So she accepted a ride from a well heeled gent with an Adolph Monjou mustache who turned out to be a vampire. And since, by then, she was passed sixty.... his advances were hard to refuse. Not that she wasn't the consummate lady, but what did she have to lose.
The next morning, when she woke for her usual Eggs-Prince-Dimitri, she found out. For vampirism, as you know, is a sexually transmitted disease.....
Come back tomorrow, oh best beloveds, for more. Thank God wilkravitz has superior bladder control. This is your nightly, disembodied spirit signing off... Wow, look at him run up those steps...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. hit THIS ... to see earlier episodes. and for our discovery of the night, hit NEW LADY DOCTOR PHIL ... COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome.
Betty was born in 1870. She lived in a big, old frame house with a wrap around porch and all the necessary relatives and equipment. They pushed her around in a big, wicker perambulator and fed her cream and berries. Mister Davenport, the portrait photographer came every six months to capture her likeness, lest they ever forget.
And when she turned eighteen she came out , which at that time signaled a willingness to breed. So they bought her a white dress trimmed with tiny pink roses and showed her to all the boys. Three months later she was promised to the second son of a very prosperous wooden leg manufacturer. No arms. No heads. Just legs. The man was a specialist. And besides, people didn't think the artificial heads were really all that effective anyway.
Her father-in-law paid for a sweet, little brick cottage , with a grape arbor in the back and a large, Canadian housekeeper named Ciss... (I think she was running from The Mounties). The furnishings were very unique. Every chair, table and console had human shaped limbs, most complete with carefully carved toenails, some with realistic bunions. It's rumored they were 'seconds' from the factory... but no one ever said.
In due time there were two children, a boy called Sunny Jim and a girl child known as Babette. They spent summers at a large, commodious rustic cottage in The Adirondacks, paddling canoes and persecuting the few remaining Indians. Betty painted water colors and sampled all the sherry.
Now they tell me I have to speed things up because the battery's starting to run down and wilkravitz (who channels this all) has to go take a piss... So I will.
The kids got married (thankfully, not to each other) and produced two adorable offspring (one each). Sunny Jim had Zeke (with the help of a wife) and Babette had Miranda (with the assistance of a very dedicated chauffeur). They went 'round the park for hours.
But when the market crashed in twenty nine, Sunny Jim (now, not so much) ran off with a professional female rodeo clown from France. She can-can'ed her way through the west. And Babette, unfortunately, was carried off by the REAL King Kong, one day as she lunched in the roof garden of an upper crust, New York hotel. I don't know where he took her.
Betty, ever the dutiful nana, raised the grandchildren as her own. She hired a man dressed as Santa to sit on a chair, down in the laundry room, full time. They sat on his lap every day. Needless to say, Betty supplied the candy canes. She taught them to eat with chopsticks and play mah-jong with old, rich Jews. Some say she inspired a Broadway play.
One cold December day, she went out to buy their presents, a nasty, little, castrated monkey, dressed like Mussolini for the boy... and a Shirley Temple look-a-like for the girl. Boy, did her parents want an arm and a leg. But she could pout like a champ. I got to tell you that. Anyway, all the stores were jammed and taxi cabs were hard to come by. So she accepted a ride from a well heeled gent with an Adolph Monjou mustache who turned out to be a vampire. And since, by then, she was passed sixty.... his advances were hard to refuse. Not that she wasn't the consummate lady, but what did she have to lose.
The next morning, when she woke for her usual Eggs-Prince-Dimitri, she found out. For vampirism, as you know, is a sexually transmitted disease.....
Come back tomorrow, oh best beloveds, for more. Thank God wilkravitz has superior bladder control. This is your nightly, disembodied spirit signing off... Wow, look at him run up those steps...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. hit THIS ... to see earlier episodes. and for our discovery of the night, hit NEW LADY DOCTOR PHIL ... COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome.
