Lady Lynda and Auntie Carol’s Etiquette Class.

Lady Lynda and Auntie Carol walk primly into the classroom.  They are both wearing prim wool suits, composed of jackets and skirts that fall below their knees.  Lady Lynda is in  Pale Lavender.  Auntie Carol in Carnation Pink.   They wear opaque stockings and flat black patent leather shoes.   Their hair is done in a conservative style, like June Cleavor in Leave it to Beaver.  Their makeup is tasteful, subtle, mascara,  hint of pink rose on their lips.  They have pinched their cheeks for twenty minutes to get that rosy glow one sees on ripe nectarines.  And of course, the persistant presense of their little white gloves.

The teen girls sit primly in their wooden chairs, behind their wooden desks.   They look glum, and extremely bored like this is the last place they want to be.   The two teachers completely fail to notice their expressions or, at least, they don’t show that they do.  They move on with the surety of nuns reciting a catechism at the burning of Jean D’Arc.

“Hello class  Welcome to Etiquette 101.  Auntie Carol and I would love for you  to think of here as your manner manor.  A little word play for your amusement.  Were it not for manners, our world would have been blown up long ago.  Manners are your entre into the world of high society and I’m sure you’ll be glad of this at your Coming Out Ball.”
The two women look throughout the classroom.  They see on the faces of the teens a look of consternation.

“Yo, Teach, we’re not lesbians,” says one mini-skirted young pixie.

“Oh, Lord, perish the thought.That would be a sin against Our Father in Heaven.  Never trod that evil path,” said Auntie Carol.

“Lookit, Miss Whatever Your Name Is,  I said we’re not gay!” retorted the same girl.

“Oh, Merciful Heavens, Thank you, Jesus, for sparing this young lady from a life of mortal sin!” said Lady Lynda “We will inculcate you into the world of proper courtly manners that you may attract a proper gentleman caller.  Men do not like, dare I say the word, strumpets.  They only use them for their baser needs.”

“Now, she thinks we’re all virgins.  I lost my cherry at age fourteen to the football  captain!” said Pixie girl.

“Well we can’t all be gems,”  retorted Lady Lynda trying to help ease the unease.

“At any rate we are here to teach you the ins and outs of behaving mannerly.”

Just then one of the more insolent girls dressed in a tank top and tight denim skirt so high it might as swell be a belt, quipped. “In and out reminds of something I really could use right now.”

Another teen girl yelled”  In and out, yeah, sex.

“We never use that term here , elsewhere.  The proper term is coitis.  Sex is too mundane a word to describe such a woman’s most precious activity, permissible only in the confines of a sanctified marriage.  Don’t cheapen your most precious possession, virginity!”intoned Lady Lynda.

Suddenly an adolescent girl’s bubble gum burst on her face.  Lady Lynda told her she was the height of rudeness.  The  girl  apologized.  She then proceeded to scrape the gum off her face  and stick it underneath her desk.  Lady Lynda looks on in horror and disgust.
Lady Lynda said “Did you ever realize about  the germs on that gum.  How you’re spreading disease. What if radiation caused it to change it into a giant pink blob that devours people! Ever think of that?

Lady Lynda and Auntie Carol come to realize  their etiquette classes for wayward girls was going to be  a real challenge.

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About Carol Bond

I, auntiecarol69, am a poetry and prose writer. My comic Novella, CATFISH JOE is on Barnes & Noble.com, Amazon.com & iUniverse.com. I have two other unpublished properties, a book of Noir Poems of Tainted Love, a full length novel (LA GITANA) that is about a Machiavellian 17th century gypsy who becomes courtezan to Louis XIV, the Sun King. I got my degree in English & anthropology. It has been as useful as a bullet to the head. I write The Black Orchid, Wanda Lust a & Auntie Carol. Lynda or Lady Lynda creates the Lady Lynda & Seymour Toze part of the BLOG. A brilliant person and my co-writer, Lynda got her degree in art history. We both try not to get historical (hysterical).
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