Saturday, 08 October 2011
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Dead Lovers in the Upstairs Bedroom (a re-post)
That night last year, at dinner, a beauty pageant queen, dressed in her sash and crown... I should probably clarify that... She was wearing more than just her sash and crown. It would be oh so wrong, if she were wearing only a sash and crown... So anyway, that night at dinner at the Dean's house, a beauty pageant queen, a truly delightful young woman, complete with her sash and crown, taught us how to fold our napkin to look like a turkey.
The dinner conversation was gracious and genteel, and notwithstanding the seismic changes that were represented by a span of some seventy years, the ladies still shared a certain connection. And then, one of the women leaned across the table and asked, Do you know about the murders?
Would you like to know more about the evening?
It was a dark and stormy night (I've always wanted to write that, but it really was). Anyway, it was a dark and stormy night. I sat for a few minutes in my car, waiting for the rain to let up before dashing through the shrubs and around to the front door of the old house. The guest list, for dinner, might have been drawn up by Agatha Christie herself. The Dean was there, of course. After all, it was her house. And the Dean's young son. The guest speaker was there with her husband in tow. Also, a hearing-impaired emeritus professor. Ninety year-old twin alumnae. A lawyer from the Attorney General's office. Several representatives from the alumni association and from the staff. And of course, our beauty queen. She showed us how to fold a towel so that it looked like a monkey. And then she turned her attention to the napkins. Somewhere, upstairs, a dog barked. Rain hit the windows like a spray of bullets. I'd like to tell you that's when the power went out. But I can't. Because it didn't. And this is a mostly true story. Even the dead body parts. Well, not dead "body parts." Even the parts about the "dead bodies."
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Comments (8)
ok, got my interest....."what of the murders?"
a grabber. Waiting wanting for more.
You've piqued my interest!
I was once taught how to make a napkin into a swan, or they tried. It was a course for little girls. It was a community thing. I wish I could say that I did it right, but I was a stupid little creature. They call that creative these days, days filled with candy and psychoanalysis, but really, I was just a dumb being that didn't pay attention. Paying attention is important when there are ugly ducklings. No, we're talking about a swans. Swans are never ugly and thus never stupid. After all, they listen to "Swan Lake." Pretty girls copy them, dancing dreams. I can't copy.
Hey, you can't stop there!
This was enjoyable. ;)@tarotbutterfly - You're right, I can't stop there. But I can pause for effect.
@doahsdeer - kk, I'll go get the popcorn. XD
I'm going to buy a used copy of one of your books since all of my bookstores say they are out of print. It's not my usual genre, so I'm not familiar with them, excuse me.
The only thing that happens in my life that's even remotely exciting are my dialogues with alzheimer's patients, as I live in a group home.
Do you think it would be disrespectful to write a book about them?