Excerpts from Carol Bond’s writings for sale. Co writer of this blog.


I think of you nude lying under the leaves with rose petals on your eyes,
An arm stretched out like Michelangelo’s angel on the Sistine Chapel.
I think of the click of your shoes like cruel castanets
In the red rooms of my heart.
I think of you nude,
Like a Romanesque angel.
Your skin like the dying rays of the sun.
I think of your hard, purple jewel
in the white, innocent smoothness of my hand
Mostly I think of your dark eyes like pitted olives,
Glowing like liquid obsidian in the dark moistness of the night.
I know you hate me and love me, and want the same from me.
You like arsenic and sugar,
and, I, poor simple beast only like the sugar.
You are a savage who rends and tears the ones you love.
Can I ever show you how simple is love.
How true. How deep. How honest.
You, vicious beast, who cannot learn.
Obsidian eyes.

“Okay I be tellin’ ya my story. One time when I was young,
I was rich as Croesus. I had me six fine, fat, juicy Bitches and they
Wasn’t no ho’s neither. None of my womens had to work. Just lay
Back, fuck, and look pretty, that’s all. And I had me a big, giant
Mansion with twenty servants. They was all white, you see.
I figured, why not fuck ‘whitie” cuz he done fuck me royally
Fo’ so long. Tyrone, I tell ya it was heaven.”

“Tell me about the Bitches, Mr. Joe,” asked Tyrone.

“Oh, they was the finest pussy this side of Mississippi.
Big, black, and juicy as goddamn Georgia peaches. They was horny as cats in heat, too. They loved the hell, out of they ol’ Daddy Joe.
I done it all wit’ them. The suckin’. The fuckin’.
Old Joe know what to do wif a woman.
Then when I done give one money to buy a pretty dress,
Another bitch find out and she be jealous like ol’ Daddy
don’t love her as much as the first Bitch. Then I gives
her money and she go get an even better dress.
them Bitches was a trip. I tell ya, Tyrone.”

“And what about yo’ mansion”, asked Tyrone.

“Oh, boy, it was splendid. Just splendid. Twenty six rooms,
all done in white, white furniture, white shag carpets.
The Works! I even had me some Elvis paintings and
Bull fighter paintings on black velvet. I likes art.
It was real class, I tell ya’ I also had me a turquoise
Cadillac with zebra upholstery. Shit, them were the days, Tyrone.”
The old man’s eyes misted over.

“Mr. Joe,” said Tyrone, “How you gone tell me
you wasn’t no pimp, Where you git’ the money!”

“Tyrone,” he replied, “I be a God fearin’ man.
I wasn’t never no pimp. They’s evil Bastards.
Goin’ straight to Hell fo’ damn sure.”

“Then where’d you git’ the money?” asked the Boy.

“Well I be tellin’ ya’ shortly, Just you hold yo’ damn horses.
Listen, Tyrone, when you was little did you believe in
Santy Claus and the Easter Bunny, and witches, and shit?”
asked old Joe.

“Sho’, Mr. Joe,” replied Tyrone.

“Well, I got somethin’ kind of weird to tell ya’. But I
wants to tell ya’ I ain’t no goddamned head case.
Tyrone, I had me this old, brown mule, the name of Sugar.
And when I would hold up her tail and it was time to go,
she shat diamonds. Big, beautiful diamonds, and nothin’ else.
Then the old Bitch died on me, and I didn’t have nothin’ no mo’.
Lost the mansion and the Bitches, too. Aint no woman gonna fuck with no po’ ass man.You, believe me, son?”


The carriage is coming for me. I lie pale and dead, my hands folded over my chest in a gesture of supplication. A pious lady like I never was in life. I am La Gitana. It’s what they call me, a beggar and consort of kings. You may think that the dead know nothing. But I tell you that we rage. We rage that we can no longer feel the dew on the underside of a leaf, nor the touch of a lover’s hand on our ass, nor the sweetness of red, full wine on our lips. We feel rage that we cannot feel the slow thud of our hearts, the red blood being forced through our veins, and we rage for all the love we have lost.

Ay, the beautiful caress of the wind through chartreuse, green leaves, the tilting of white clouds careening across a turquoise sky. We rage for the days gone by. Life is but a droplet of rain sliding down a window pane. I am much honored but I have also been reviled much in my life. One cannot be vivid without breaking some hearts. Que lastima, I say and winner take all. I have been what people thought I was, and I have also been just myself. It is impossible to sort.

My carriage is six black stallions and a pale driver. I asked for a rubio to ferry me across to the other side. Inside my carriage is gold and red velvet. Red is my color: blood is my legacy. They will line the streets and call my name holding long white candles. My story begins as I am sixteen. The year is 1679, and King Carlos having ascended the throne at age fourteen, has married Marie Louise, the niece of Louis XIV of France, at age eighteen. It is not enough for France to defeat Spain in war: she must also rule us on the domestic front as well. King Carlos, or El Hechisado as he is called, is simple and in ill health. What a sin to have to lie with a fool. Don Juan of Austria, Carlos’s illegitimate brother, rules through violence and intimidation. The queen mother, Mariana, is weakened and her valido, Valenzuela, deposed.

King Carlos is not our king, and Spain is not our country. We are ruled by our own king, a Rom Baru, and to hell with Spain. Soy una gitana. (I am a gypsy).

Escuchame, querida. Tengo mas que contar.
Listen to me, dear. I have much to


I am Tekla. Soy una gitana. The lower part of my body is marime, or unclean, two parts pressed together like a dusky rose. My upper body is pure like a virgin’s shoulders. So it is with all the woman of the Romani clan. We are pure and impure, and can pollute by our actions. We must never expose our lower half to anyone but our husbands and even then we must take care not to pollute them. We must stay away from our men and male stallions when we have the time of blood and when we are in child birth. There is a special red tent for these times. One who is marime by action or by nature cannot walk amongst us. The worst punishment for a gypsy is to be cast out, or judged marime, for he can never live the gypsy life or be with other gypsies. It is a fate worse than death for it is death to the spirit. Family is the most important thing for a gypsy, not possessions, as it is for the gaje.

When I was a girl I used to wander bare breasted through the camps free as a flower, my high little girl’s breasts catching the light like burnt calla lilies in the morning sun. The little, ragged boys would run by and try to touch them but I always avoided their greedy, curious fingers. As I have said my gypsy name is Tekla. My gaje name is Carmen, and my secret name you will never know. My sister, Rupa, at fourteen is much more beautiful than I. Yet, I do not shed a tear: my heart is a stone. I am a mere thistle at her feet.

Rupa! Rupa! Rupa! Even the birds sing her name. Who sings mine? The thistles and the thorns. But under her surface is but sugar and air. Sometimes I think she will never truly love another.

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A Lady’s Virtue is worth all the Gold in Ft. Knox


This is Auntie Carol and  I want to say I am flabbergasted.  A Young lady’s virtue is worth all the gold in Fort Knox.  It would seem that our young lady’s are pleasuring young  hooligans on the school buses, doing the unthinkable.  I blush to name it but I will say lollipop.  I have  heard it by a reliable source that they even wear colored bracelets indicating the sex act they will perform from A to Z.  Young ladies, wake up you are being used like cheap strumpets.  If you do all these things what have you saved for the marriage bed?  No man like used goods: he wants his wife t be pure as the driven snow.  You give them  your beautiful woman’s flower and for what?  It’s called a hook-up. And in the tight clothes you all wear you can’t be distinguished from a street walker!!!


Young Ladies, Wake up.  I sound the clarion call.  You are just being used by these lascivious  Lotharios.  I adamantly urge you to save yourselves for marriage. However, you may let him fondle your breasts on the major holidays like Christmas.  Heavens,  don’t tell Lady Lynda I said that.


I  rather like Keat’s Ode to a Grecian Urn  where the two lovers never catch each other.  It’s  so poignant .  I guess I’m a romantic at heart.  They never consummate their love. Ah!  Theirs another thing in my treatise on morality.  Don’t wear pearls: they reflect down.  And don’t wear patent leather shoes: they reflect up.  Do you really want to show your private parts in such a brazen, whorish way?  I think not.  Alas, there so much sinning in this world.  I despair: I weep for all you misguided young ladies.  It’s so terribly wrong.

Well, it’s time for my sherry.  Aurevoire mes amis.

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Lady Lynda’s proper footware lecture leads to unexpected consequences.

Lady Lynda proudly walked up to the stage to begin her lecture on proper foot ware for today’s young ladies. She looked rather proper in her rose and pink brocaded business suit Her prim white flats a nice touch/. Her manicured nails matched the rose hues of her outfit. She smiled as she recalled her fawning husband’s pedicures. She beamed how lovely he painted her favorite part of her body, her toes.

Her eyes quickly perused the crowd in front of her . She noticed the scowling faces of the slovenly dressed girls. It was clear they were there only because their prnciple and parents wanted them to be there. The poor dears Toze’s wife chagrined. If only they knew how major this topic is to them.

The woman took pride the local school board requested her talk. How caring of them to want their young ladies to dress properly from their heads to toes. This was her chance to fulfill her mission No more would these female teens brazenly wear sneakers in school. Oh the horror and the disrepect for their teachers. Yes true they were called walking shoes, running shoes the fact was they were sneakers.

“First thing I want to stress is how important the right shoes are. “The wrong ones can ruin practically every outfit. It is crucial ladies don’t look cheap by wearing spiked heels. Especially ones with open toes. Today’s young miss should be demure. Can you imagine what boys think of you in low cut tops and skirts or shorts up to there? Blouses shouldn’t be any lower than just below your neckline. My word don’t you know your bodies are temples Young men should want you for your brains, not only your bodies.” She spoke in dulcent tones.

Suddenly a sullen looking adolescent girl earnestly asked why can’t he want both?

Lady Lynda told her choices must be made. “Do you want to be seen as a cheap hussy? There is nothing wrong with young people dating. But you should respect yourself and save yourself for marriage. The young woman who made the query started to giggle. The giggling soon became contagious to the entire audience. Seymour Toze’s wife was feeling indignant She was feeling hurt too. Those insolent teens she thought How ungrateful of them. Well I’ll show them.

Just then the lecturer heard jangling. She wondered what the noise was. She noticed a female teenager dangling her charm bracelet. Lady Lynda could clearly see the words on the charms. The order seemed to be a code? The insolen teen told her it was an availability bracelet. Lady Lynda replied “Available to be a loose woman I suppose”

“Some crucial words. Never let a young gentleman think you’re easy. You don’t want be thought of as a harlot. . Never,ever enter into a place of a man you don’t know well. You don’t want him to think you’re cheap. If a man is flirting with you stop and ask how will the behavior make feel feel tomorow? What are your sexual morals? Don’t let a man convince you being fast is the right thing to do.That’s only what you want to hear in the moment. As the Shirells sang its not just for a moment of pleasure. “ The crowd looked at her with blank stares. Who the hell were the Shirelles?

“My word “ the lecturer thought” they’re babes in the woods. This is more difficult than I thought it would be. Acting so insolent yet knowing so little. If only there was a way to get through to them.

Just then a phone rings behind the stage. A stage manager says its for Lady Lynda. She excuses herself and answers the call.
“Oh its you Auntie Carol. These youths here are a lot more hard to penetrate than i thought. “Oh yes you’re right penetrate is an interesting choice of words with my topic of saving themselves for marriage. At any rate what do you suggest.” Lady Lady wrote trying to stay calm. “Okay Auntie Carol I’ll just leave the solution to you.”

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Dan. D. Walker Preps for His Hot Date

Dandy D. Walker preps for his hot date

Daniel Delbert Walker laid all 6’2 manly self on his old fashion four poster bed in his rustic western style bedroom. The man saw how his new suit was draped over He gleamed with pride and pleasure over his genuine gold lame suit. It was an exact copy of the original suite designed by flamboyant designer extraodinaire Nudie Cohn. Walker wondered what the man’s real name was. He deemed it quite ironic his nick was Nudie since his business was designing some mighty fancy suits. Walker reflected how the man created clothes for ZZ Top, Gram Parsons, Porter Waggoner and other Rock and Country stars. Who knew there was a Jewish connection to so many popular singers. Whoda thunk it he bemusedly asked himself. His lapis blue eyes twinkled with delight. He beamed at how sharp he would look to his new gal.

The jacket and pants were an exact replica of the Elvis Presley cover on the album “Fifty Million Elvis Fans can’t be wrong” Dan. D. Walker immediately concluded his new woman couldn’t be wrong about him either “ Yeah that mighty fine sure made an excellent choice in me. Hot diggity darn.” A gentleman ain’t suppose to cuss” One thing I am is a true gentleman. I respect the ladies. That’s why I’m wearing this suit. I’m sure she’d be truly impressed.

“What a gal!! Dan D. beamed with pride as he sauntered into his kitchen. He wore a flannel plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up his elbows. Levis covered his meaty legs. His expression resembled an overgrown puppy dog who knew he found at last his one true love.

“Courtney Rae you are the one for me. Ahm so glad I’m courtin’ you Courtney Rae. You are a ray of sunshine in mah life. Thanks to me going to that Stetson, Black Lariet holiday party. Once I took a glance at you mah little darlin, ah knew you were the one. Ah was as certain as sage bush being a part of Texas.

Walker smiled like a Cheschire cat as he reminesced about that swanky evening. “She’s a beauty. A real fresh as outdoors beauty” “Her sparkling rich brown eyes, her wavy brunette shoulder length hair, her pert features are such a joy for me to look at.” declared as he flexed his swung his right arm and made a tight fist.

“Hot diggity dog I sure am doin’ mighty fine these day. I feel like a baseball player who hit a home run at the bottom of the nineth and made my team win. When it comes to clever retorts I’m a pro. ‘Ah thank you for being so concerned about about me getting enough exercise.’ Can’t wait to `my cute little honey pie. Ooohh my cute little sexy honey pie. Its been exactly twelve hours since we saw each other. Its going to be six hours for our rendevous at that romantic steakhouse restaurant “Love meat Tender” I can hardly wait. I know one thing my manhood sure won’t be squishy. It’s going to be good and hard. It’ll be great tonight.

Daniel D. Walker reflected on how much he looked forward to being close with his new woman. Yes he exclaimed they would be like two twigs intertwined. She would make up for every other female who rejected him because they couldn’t understand what he was saying.

The man congratulated himself on being so lucky to find elocution teacher Lady Lynda and being so successful in his lessons. So much so that he met the woman of his dreams. Now the world was his. And now a new sexy and smart woman was his too

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Wanda Lust Rings in the New Year

This be Ol’ Wanda Lust, ex-crack ho’ and I be talkin PARTAY. I done decide to give my friends and fambly a Wham Bam New Year’s Eve Party and everbody has to come as a Dickins’ character. The Black Orchid sho’ got a sense of humor: she comin’ as Bob Kratchet’s wife and old Fat Harold comin’ as Tiny Tim. That be really funny as he weigh over three hundred pounds and he wearin them black leather shorts the German’s wear and a satin shirt and saddle oxfords wid socks and garters. I gone be the Ghost of Christmas Future and make myself all silver wid a hood and sackcloth and the pointy finger like he do. Auntie Carol be the Ghost of Christmas Present, all in white satin and platinum blond wig wit holly berries woven through it. And Lady Lynda just be The Ghost of Christmas Past be lookin’ the way Emily Dickinson do, all flowery in high neck long dress of cotton and a cameo necklace and lil’ straw hat.

I don’ understand them assholes who goes out to eat or does a catered affair. Goin’ to the trouble of cookin’ everthing by yoself is the beauty of it and I can cook my ass off. I even made blackberry and minced meat pies to go wit the pumpkin and a peasant along wid’ the ham and turkey. If nobody don’ gain twenty pounds on my dinner I done failed in my endeavor. And people gone drink gallons of my eggnog corrupted by brandy. I like the sound of it, corrupted. Lady Lynda once say I got a writer’s head on me.

My gurl friends gone come all tricked out as elves and hobgoblins. Who ever know what a hobgoblin is? I give ‘em special instructions to “come on” to Ol’ Fat Harold, my hubby, and we, Laverne and me, gone have a contretemps over Harold. I act real jealous like and punch her on the jaw and she pull at my hair and rip off my robes. We got it all staged. Ol’ Fat Harold gone feel like the cock of the walk. I got real sexy lingerie under these robes, red and green with cot out nipples. Find me a Ho’ who aint as good actress and I’ll give you a diamond stone. We know how to please our mens.

Meanwhile my two prudish friends, Aunty Carol and Lady Lynda gone be talkin’ that fifty’s shit bout how all my gurls be a lot happier sitten’ behind some desk typin’ on a computer for some stiff assed Republican. They also go over that shit like witholdin’ the candy ‘til ya sees a ring danglin’ from his hand. These gurls are like some stone cold bitches but they lissens’ and nods they heads like the believes all that bullshit out of respect for me.

Harold aint a bit the wiser out of my little act and he goin’ around tweakin’ titties and I acts real pissed off and jealous and he Tee Heein’ all over the place. Auntie Carol and Lady Lynda go round thinkin’ they done really saved some souls for God Highest. They grinnin’ like they foxes in the hen house.


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2014 Texan Black Lariot , Stetson, Cowboy Boots Christmas Party.

The 2014 Black Larriat , Stetson and Cowboy Boots Holiday Ball

It’s a festive Christmas fest An impressively tall Christmas tree is decked in shiny metallic colorful balls. It[s draped green and red wreaths. Blinking lights that change hues. The Hanukkuh bush and Kwanzah lamp are quite impressive. Holiday symbols are easily seen on the roomy hardwood floor

Pine green and festive red velvet drape the walls. The material is hung on golden poles that reach to the very top of the high walls. The ceiling is domed and in its center is a golden Lone Star , the symbol of the Lone Star state.

Red Velvet cake is clearly displayed on the long buffet table. Various fruit pies and cookies are there There is an abundance of the finest barbeque fixings this side of the Rio Grand. There is genuine tender Texas Rib eye, roast turkey. For vegans there is Cajun spiced Seitan. Corn on the cob, sweet potatoes, white potatoes, cranberries and stuffing galore are there too. Bourbon, “Lone Star” beer and nothing but American wines are on display too.

The children are entertained by a professional clown dressed in a harlequin suit in a separate room to the side. The man did various fun tricks for the girls and boys. His rapport with the at first cranky boys and girls was quite impressive.

The teens are permitted into the main room only with their parents No alcohol for them. If any parent was caught they’d be immediately escorted from the premises. Management doesn’t want to risk were being charged serving those who were underaged.

Into the festive room saunters in Dan D. Walker. He reflects how lucky he is to be here in the grandest of holiday parties in Texas. He wears his finest tux with black lariot, fancy carved leather cowboy boots and Stetson. His deep lapis eyes peruse the site as if it’s a ranch he’s inspecting for possible purchase. The décor , the way the men and women are so fancy dressed pleases him The Texan reflects how the gals were decked in their finest yet still looked as feminine and pretty as pink roses The women looked as curvy as nubile teen girls strutting her stuff with the skimpiest of bikinis.

Walker bet he could catch any one of those gals eyes. Yes Lady Lynda’s diction lessons gave him the confidence he needed he reflected With so many delightful pickings he indeed sure was grateful. It was like a smorgesbord of feminine beauty and sexiness.

Feeling sure of himself Walker walked over to a sweet looking young woman. She’s sexy in a fresh scrubbed way. He says to her “How lucky can I get meeting you here.” She replies. “What a line. Take a hike.” His glib reply is “Well mam I’m so grateful you’re making sure I get enough exercise”

Just then a woman with homespun sexy charm comes up to him She says to Dan. D. “Hell She sho nuff don’t know a good man when she sees one but I do.“ Daniel Delbert Walker is smitten with her charms. “Yes it pays to speak your mind” bemused Walker. Thanks to Lady Lynda, he reflected now he could. He was so delighted he could. He thanked his lucky stars.

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Erasmus Nutley Puts on the Dog (Christmas)


He was so excited: people were coming to see him. It was stupendous! It was outré!
He was so meticulous about his huge trust. He never overspent and never gave so much as a nickel to a beggar, calling them lazy ne’er do wells, and junkies. He was, in fact, one of those people who think they Could take it with them. He was nothing to no one and vice versa. He was penniless profound and pound foolish. Like the Paul Simon lyrics, “I am a rock; I am an island and a rock knows no pain.”

And here he was planning a lavish do for his two only friends Lady Lynda and Auntie Carol. They opened up the world to him and he was drinking it in like a sweet nectar. They had captured his miserable, miserly self, All those lonely hours reading in Aramaic, ancient obscure texts about the Old World. And the countless stories of serial killers, his guilty pleasure. They were all solitary souls…like him. Frankly, Auntie Carol, said in confidence to Lady Lynda, “With that attitude, what keeps him off buildings with a rifle?” Anyone who answers the phone with “What is it now?” has got to have a problem.

And now he was throwing a blast out, no holds barred party for his two beloved friends. The aqua velva in his veins had turned to blood. The door bell rang and he thought, “I am so debonair in my silk smoking jacket and black tux pants. Like Ronald Coleman.” Lady Lynda and Auntie, looked like aging Barby Dolls with their big hair, turquoise eye shadow and little white gloves. “A lady is not complete without her gloves, her compact, and her smelling salts. The vapors, you know,” thought Auntie Carol.

The third woman he did not know. In her black silk mini dress, high kicky boots and dripping with diamonds, she resembled a model out of Italian Vogue, only more muscular. She had that predatory aura of the big cats so wild and hungry were her emerald eyes. He noted she had black talons instead of fingernails Curiously Strange. He felt s lump in his throat and could not find his words.

Well this woman, known as the Black Orchid, “Well, Darling, are you going to let us in? I’m cold as a witch’s tit on w windy hill.” With that he stepped aside and took their
fur coats to the master bedroom brushing the now off with his hands.
“Well, who is this magnificent creature you have brought with you?”

“I am The Black Orchid, she countered, and squeezed his hand. It was painful as people who have lion DNA do not realize their strength. He was glad for the release. And she slowly and languorously took good measure of him as a man and it made him feel like a wild animal was considering him as prey. She smelled of spices and the sex scent. Erasmus had a blob of a face, the face of a file clerk, unremarkable, and he had a receding chin. He was thin and frail like an orphan. He had the posture of someone who rings church bells for a living. She thought, “Blue Heron and 38, still a virgin. That can be changed..”

So Erasmus brought on the Brandy and Benedictine toute de suite to warm them as they sat on his Henry XIV couch next to a raging fire in the fireplace. He said they would have Cabernet with dinner and desert wines for after dinner such as Sambuca, Peppermint Schnops, and Kahlua. He had turkey, ham and a goose, cornbread stuffinng, candied yams, mashed potatoes, and green beans Almandine. And there were three delicious deserts. Lady Lynda remarked at how much he had changed.

In reply, he said, ”We didn’t celebrate Christmas at my house. Dad said it was a capitalistic device to get people to empty their pockets. Too commercial. So I had to watch the other kids and their families share this holiday and I hated them for it. Still do. Dad said there was no Santa and mom was too busy with her acting career to pay any attention to me. I was not allowed to invite friends over. Occasionally father would take me to the stock market to see money fly as he said. So I raised myself. There was no warmth, no caring. We were outrageously rich, though and if people didn’t succeed, Dad said it was all their fault.”.

“Come here and get a group hug,” said Lady Lynda. And it happened. The Black Orchid tongued him in the ear and gave him a grind. “Let’s tell him now,” she said.

“Listen, Erasmus, at midnight we will get a special visitor,” said The Black Orchid.

“Ed Gein. Charlie Manson, Heidnick”, replied Erasmus

“Yes, all three. I hear you speak Aramaic. Say, I love you It’s my native tongue.”

“Native tongue? That can’t be. You look about thirty. Your skin is wrinkle free and the blue white color of skim milk.”

“I have been around s long time. Best you don’t ponder it,” said The Black Orchid, I’m VSOP. Very Special, old and pale,”

Erasmus felt frightened when she announced that her mother, a tribal shaman got with a lion to “begat” her.

“So, that’s why I’m prey when she looks at me and she’s immortal,” He was having a hard time processing this information, took a big shot of brandy and passed out

When he came to, Santa was taking his pulse. He wore a red plaid L.L. bean shirt with jeans with a Santa hat. “Now, there’s a good fella. I understand you don’t believe in me.

Erasmus said he was an actor and he didn’t appreciate his friends playing with his head, Santa then waved his hand in the sir and an entire Lionel train set appeared in front of the fire. “Can an actor do that? I think:therefore I am. I Yam that I Yam. One potato to another. Little joke for you This was what you wanted at seven. Your parents refused to let me come into your life such as it was.”

”Yeah, well guess what? I’m still a curmudgeon. I think welfare mothers should all find jobs. Lackadaisical ladies.” said Erasmus.

“I rather like your wit, Erasmus. Life is not always fair. You are very lucky to have such good friends. Other people are not so lucky. Fate can play some mean tricks on people.” said Santa. Erasmus felt the gentleness wand warmth of the old Elf and a tear rolled down his cheek, and he flushed pink with embarrassment.

“Don’t be ashamed of the tear, hon, Only weak, brittle people can’t cry. Now Santa and I have some business to conduct upstairs if you copy that. I want to find out if it’s okay to be naughty not nice,” said The Black Orchid.

During the tete a tete, the girls and Erasmus helped themselves to the delicious food and he fidgeted like a man standing before a firing squad. He intuited that The Black Orchid had plans for him.

“Don’t worry dear,”said Lady Lynda. “You remember the first time you had ice cream and how wonderful it was. Sex is like that.

Forty-five minutes later, they both came down and she was wearing an emerald necklace and ear rings, A rank smell of rotted oranges emanated from her. She wordlessly took his hand and led him up the stairs.

Auntie Carol and Lady Lynda said in unison,”BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.”

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