Miz Eula Mae received the shock of her life while visiting Lady Lynda. She awoke early and decided to make a country breakfast for Lady Lynda and her husband, Seymour. She lovingly made a gargantuan breakfast, Eggs Benedict with Turkey Ham, grits, fresh home-made biscuits, pancakes , orange and tomato juice and chicory coffee form Louisiana. Just as she opened the door, Seymour was worshipping Lady Lynda’s pert toes. The sight was so appalling to her that she dropped the tray of food and ran from the room screaming, “Spawn of Satan, Sacre Bleu.”

“Well, said Lady Lynda, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag and I have to go down and straighten things out with Miz Eula Mae, dearest auntie. We’ll just do a rewind when I get back and no, you should not come with me. She will no doubt consider you some Lascivious Lothario who has led me astray. Miz Eula may be having a heart attack or a conniption fit, at the very least. After all, she’s eighty-seven years old.”

She found her blessed auntie much undone and blowing into a brown paper bag looking like she had encountered the Devil in the Flesh. “You have sinned against out Blessed Lord,” she said between gasps.

“Miz Eula, my Seymour is a man of sophisticated tastes and what he does pleases me greatly, and no one gets hurt to say the least. A Lot has changed since you were in your prime. He is a successful fashion photographer and the proprietor of an upscale shoe store. A respectable man and good provider. And he doesn’t begrudge my talent as a writer. He encourages me to write my romances. He is a good, good man. Please understand.”

“In my day it was understood that we did our wifely duty but we were not encouraged to enjoy it. Only strumpets and harlots and whores enjoy the bestiality of the act. A proper wife is to lay down and spread ‘em, and turn her face to the side to preserve her purity,” said Miz Eula Mae.

“Miz Eula, women are expected to enjoy it these days. If not, it is grounds for divorce,” said Lady Lynda, stifling a giggle.

“You’re going to Hell in a hand basket, my girl. You are not a concubine, why behave as one. The Lord never said the worship of feet was a Godly act,” retorted Miz Eula.

“He never said either way, Miz Eula. Nowadays women are engaging in sex before marriage and I didn’t know this before I was forty. I kept waiting for my knight to come. And he did in the form of Seymour. I think you’re a bit old fashioned. Besides what about the washing of Jesus’s feet as a sign of respect and love.”

“In my day,” said Miz Eula, “We didn’t give up the milk before buying the cow and men were chivalrous and protective of the fair sex. And you are not Jesus, love. It’s a perversion. Does he also lambast little children?”

“Because a man does one quirky thing, It does not mean he engages in all the other things. Next thing I know you’ll be calling him a necrophiliac.

“A what?’ asked Miz Eula. And when Lady Lynda told her she colored up and began to fan herself saying, “Merciful Heavens.” Lady Lynda hid her smile behind her hand.

“The washing of Jesus’s feet was not sexual in any manner and what you do is filthy and you may think I’m innocent but I know some woman even take a man’s protuberance in their mouths, and this is just bestial. Don’t start any Biblical allusions as I am a lay preacher and mid-wife and I read the Bible every day for most of the day from sun up to sun down. I say stop this nasty UnGodly act or perish in burning Hell, “ said Miz Eula.

“Those things I used to believe in until I met Seymour at forty and fell in love and in lust. Seymour was very patient with me and approached slow with chocolates and flowers and bottles of good Cabernet. One day he gave me an ultimatum after about six months. He said that I wouldn’t buy a car without first driving it. And it made sense,”said Lady Lynda. “And then I married the man of my dreams and the rest is history.”

“Blasphemy, my dear,” said Miz Eula, “you put the cart before the horse. These kind of thoughts come from Satan, Darling. I will save you from burning perdition. Get down on your knees and pray with me,” said Miz Eula forcefully. Lady Lynda got on her knees. That was when Miz Eula had the conniption fit, her limbs jerked spasmodically, and her right eye listed to the side and she foamed at the mouth. Then she came to with much sputtering and spittle on her purple lips and her make up made her look old and garish in the fading afternoon light. Her credo as a Lady was to always be made up and always have on clean white underwear so people would know she was a lady if death came knocking.

“Dear it was amazing. I was in a big field with the Lord and many many ewes, and he said you were exempt from the fires of Hell due to all your good works. The sky was pink like a sunset and I could smell wet roses and there was this most luscious nectar he gave to sooth my tattered spirit. And he took me in his arms, and said, “You are my child, Eula Mae and this shall be your home, one day.”

“So I guess we’re out of the woods, so to speak,” said Lady Lynda.

“Yes, dear that is a given. Now you and Seymour get ready for a late country brunch. An empty stomach is the Devil’s Playground.

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