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Sunday, October 15, 2006

In life, only death and flowers are clear-cut.

After my Aldo's all-too-brief funeral, that insensitive clod Ian Cameron said, "All right, that's over! Guilt expunged! Time to head back to Charterstone for the Fall Pool Party!" Naturally, that brat Toby whined, "But Iiiii-aaan! I don't feel any cloooo-sure yet!" Ian gave her a shove toward the car, to hurry her up, saying, "You will. It takes time. Get in the car. That party starts at 5 and people expect me to be there to pontificate."

Just then, we passed a roving cemetary florist. You see them all the time at cemetaries, at the most convenient times. I was drawn to him, not because of his weasel-like appearance, but because he so fortuitously had a bouquet of a dozen red roses thrown in carelessly on top of his regular stock of cheap pink carnations.

I bought the roses from the weasel-florist. As I did, Ian became grouchy. "What's she doing?" he demanded. "It's 3:30! It's a half-hour drive, and it takes at least 45 minutes for Toby to wedge me into my swimsuit! We're going to be late!" With a cruel look on her face, Toby said, "I don't know what she's doing! But damnit, I killed a man to preserve her reputation, and now she's going to go and throw it all away!"

I ignored her. As I walked toward my darling Aldo's grave, I thought to myself that death, just like flowers, is clear cut. But life is not. Sure, some people called my Aldo's attentions stalking. But can three chance meetings and one phone call really constitute stalking? And sure, some people might call me a whore if I had given in to lust and screwed Aldo's brains out, but is a good reputation that important?

I was about to put the full dozen red roses on Aldo's grave, but then I remembered something: a good reputation is the most important thing in the world! After all, I left New York because my many indiscretions with men had left me with an indefensible reputation!

No one at Charterstone knows about my disastrous engagement to bubble-gum manufacturer-come-philanthropist Drum Greenwood. Even though I claimed that I was giving my body to him only to secure his donation to a slum-clearance project, some unkind people still called me "Mary Whore!" I had to engineer a car wreck and fake amnesia to restore my good name.

Then I was wholly taken in by that "black widower," Edwin Penwhistle. He was almost as sexually appealing as Aldo Kelrast, and I would have married him and performed unspeakable sexual acts with him had the police not tipped me off in time!

I won't even mention the details of my failed relationships with the vigorous, wealthy athlete or the elderly Shakespearean actor. They are just too humiliating.

I can't ruin my life here at Charterstone the same way I ruined it in New York--with multiple, ill-advised, lust-driven flings with men! No! I must stay pure and true to my darling Dr. Jeff Cory, because everyone knows he is physically undesirable and therefore that our relationship is chaste and pure and true.

So, I gave Aldo only half the red roses. That way it just looks like a gesture of friendship, and I get to save my good name. Never let it be said that Mary Worth doesn't learn from her mistakes.

By the by, when I returned to the car, I noticed that Toby was once again dressed in her salmon pink suit. I looked down and saw that my suit had turned partially back to its former orchid purple jazziness, but was streaked heavily with black patches and shadows. What do you think that means?

2 Comments:

Anonymous the real victoria "toby" cameron said...

Dearest Mary,

I'm not sure why our outfits keep changing colors, but it is becoming a nightmare to try to accessorize properly with all this hue-shifting.

And now I must be off to help Ian with his Speedo.

I am reminded of a bumper sticker I saw on the way back from Aldo's funeral, "With the right swimwear a man can make history, and if he wears a Speedo there's no mystery."

5:55 PM  
Anonymous Kelly Stirling said...

Where did you see such a kitchy bumper sticker, Toby? You know bumper sticker are against Charterstone's bylaws! Anything with personality or color hues other than white, beige, or purple is simply frowned upon.

6:26 PM  

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