It's not just the ladies you don't understand; men don't like you either. But by all means keep writing your advice column with the nom de plume Wendy. Someone was recently commenting on what an excellent columnist you were before you died.
12 comments:
Ian Cameron, PhD
said...
Oh for Pete's sake Mary, cut the Poor Soul some slack. You said it yourself, with all these endearing quirks he's a real diamond in the rough under all that fluster. Besides, this whole trip was all thanks to you, I'd think you'd be happy it was such a success. I hope you'll take a moment to reflect on some fitting Nietszche quotes during your next lap around Charterstone Lagoon, before the drought authority orders it drained and replaced with xeriscaping.
And Estelle - to clarify, by "that's it, I'm done here", do you mean you are Never Ever Ever, Getting Back Together? You know, like you repeatedly sang for several hours before immediately caving after Flustie brought you some ribs? It's not that I don't agree with your decision, but after reviewing past interactions I think we're going to need this from you signed and notarized in triplicate.
Perhaps Wilbur needs a session with Dr. Sweatervest. After an hour’s reassurance that these women are too dense to appreciate his playful nature, his self-esteem will be fully restored.
Clearly Wilbur should resort to online dating. There's a Mrs Euryale, a widow of Greek extraction, looking for a man ready to make a long-term commitment…
This is a new low for KM in the laziness category. No explanation of how Wilbur survived, no adventures on Roco Cay, no explanation of how he got new clothes and shoes (!), how he made his way back, etc. etc. All week Wilbur will be complaining about the women in his life, until Mary Explains It All with a platitude palooza.
Next week: Wilbur publishes “I Survived!!! My Amazing Survivor Story,” which quickly rises to best seller status - at Santa Roymart.
The Meddler Of Charterstone A Play By Willm. Stirspeare.
Act 20, Scene 22. Charterstone, a room.
ENTER the three witches, Mary, Dawn, and Eshtelle.
THREE WITCHES: Double, double, fluster, bubble Bad combover and face o' stubble Far better Madi's granny's cake Along with mayo thou mayst bake One lost boot, bulk of log Full of fat just like a hog, Palm tree broke, none to sing Karaoke, or buy some bling For a giantess that is just trouble Drown, Weelbur, sink and bubble. Slab of mayo, piece of wool Dawn's mummy, left her in school Ran away, who knows...hark! I hear Pierre give a bark! Comes someone who weighs double, Quick, Weelbur, drown and bubble.
ENTER Weelbur
WEELBUR: Freinds, ladies, stupidesses, lend me some beers I come to return to you, in your praise swim. The weevil that crops slew hungers after them While I am buried in fat, unto my bones. So let it be with mourners. The cruise captain Hath told you my fall was injurious And seriously might the sea have injured me If I wasn't Moy's favourite man. So are they all...
FIRST WITCH (MARY): Hail, Weelbur, Stain of Charterstone!
SECOND WITCH (DAWN): Hell, Daddy, Stain of Mayonnaise!
THIRD WITCH (ESHTELLE): Is this a bread knife I see before me Its handle towards my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
(They stab Weelbur. Eshtelle strikes the first, Mary the last blow.)
I am so looking forward to Mary platituding her way out of this one. Can we move on to a Chatterstone pool party? Bill the Butcher, lovely parody of Shakespeare.
I was disappointed when Wilbur survivived, but I'll be happy if he simply becomes a complete pariah forced to wallow endlessly in his social isolation.
Even if Wilbur didn't call the "ladies" to let them know he was alive, it seems reasonable the cruise line folks would do so. Not calling right away is actually quite cruel. Wilbur is the worst, as always.
12 comments:
Oh for Pete's sake Mary, cut the Poor Soul some slack. You said it yourself, with all these endearing quirks he's a real diamond in the rough under all that fluster. Besides, this whole trip was all thanks to you, I'd think you'd be happy it was such a success. I hope you'll take a moment to reflect on some fitting Nietszche quotes during your next lap around Charterstone Lagoon, before the drought authority orders it drained and replaced with xeriscaping.
And Estelle - to clarify, by "that's it, I'm done here", do you mean you are Never Ever Ever, Getting Back Together? You know, like you repeatedly sang for several hours before immediately caving after Flustie brought you some ribs? It's not that I don't agree with your decision, but after reviewing past interactions I think we're going to need this from you signed and notarized in triplicate.
Perhaps Wilbur needs a session with Dr. Sweatervest. After an hour’s reassurance that these women are too dense to appreciate his playful nature, his self-esteem will be fully restored.
"I'll never understand women" ... is there a pet for that?
Clearly Wilbur should resort to online dating. There's a Mrs Euryale, a widow of Greek extraction, looking for a man ready to make a long-term commitment…
This is a new low for KM in the laziness category. No explanation of how Wilbur survived, no adventures on Roco Cay, no explanation of how he got new clothes and shoes (!), how he made his way back, etc. etc. All week Wilbur will be complaining about the women in his life, until Mary Explains It All with a platitude palooza.
Next week: Wilbur publishes “I Survived!!! My Amazing Survivor Story,” which quickly rises to best seller status - at Santa Roymart.
The Meddler Of Charterstone
A Play
By Willm. Stirspeare.
Act 20, Scene 22.
Charterstone, a room.
ENTER the three witches, Mary, Dawn, and Eshtelle.
THREE WITCHES: Double, double, fluster, bubble
Bad combover and face o' stubble
Far better Madi's granny's cake
Along with mayo thou mayst bake
One lost boot, bulk of log
Full of fat just like a hog,
Palm tree broke, none to sing
Karaoke, or buy some bling
For a giantess that is just trouble
Drown, Weelbur, sink and bubble.
Slab of mayo, piece of wool
Dawn's mummy, left her in school
Ran away, who knows...hark!
I hear Pierre give a bark!
Comes someone who weighs double,
Quick, Weelbur, drown and bubble.
ENTER Weelbur
WEELBUR: Freinds, ladies, stupidesses, lend me some beers
I come to return to you, in your praise swim.
The weevil that crops slew hungers after them
While I am buried in fat, unto my bones.
So let it be with mourners. The cruise captain
Hath told you my fall was injurious
And seriously might the sea have injured me
If I wasn't Moy's favourite man.
So are they all...
FIRST WITCH (MARY): Hail, Weelbur, Stain of Charterstone!
SECOND WITCH (DAWN): Hell, Daddy, Stain of Mayonnaise!
THIRD WITCH (ESHTELLE): Is this a bread knife I see before me
Its handle towards my hand?
Come, let me clutch thee.
(They stab Weelbur. Eshtelle strikes the first, Mary the last blow.)
WEELBUR: Et tu, Worthe? Then fall, Weelbur!
(Dies).
ENTER Libby and Pierre
LIBBY: Miaow.
WEELBUR (rising): GRAAH I AM BACK FROM THE DEAD
(Begins looking for mayonnaise-flavoured brains.)
I am so looking forward to Mary platituding her way out of this one. Can we move on to a Chatterstone pool party?
Bill the Butcher, lovely parody of Shakespeare.
Wilbur is the biggest hole on the planet.
I was disappointed when Wilbur survivived, but I'll be happy if he simply becomes a complete pariah forced to wallow endlessly in his social isolation.
Bill the Butcher, that’s a gem!
You and me both, Estelle.
Even if Wilbur didn't call the "ladies" to let them know he was alive, it seems reasonable the cruise line folks would do so. Not calling right away is actually quite cruel. Wilbur is the worst, as always.
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