[gardeners] DeDe makes Uncle Harold Hampton-Court a Proposition
Cousin DeDe/dede (gardeners@globalgarden.com)
Wed, 8 Jul 1998 02:01:12 +0000
Dear Harry (and don't you get on me telling me to call you Lord Harold. If
plain ole' Harry's good enough for one of them boy princes you got over
them, it's good enough for you),
Mail lady liked to keel over toting your letter up to the house. Where'd
you get yourself that fancy paper and envelope, anyway? Must have weighed a
ton, for certain. But your letter had a right nice hand to it, so I guess I
won't be asking you for the 73 cents postage due that I had to give to the
mail lady 'afore she'd pass it along. (It's alright you owing me the money,
'cause I reckon I can always get it from Belle once you is planted.)
I done heard from Belle today and I'm enclosing her letter. As you can
rightly see, the poor thing is stuck in a barrel of right smelly pickles.
Belle ain't done anything wrong, after all, and I got me a hunch that that
Sheriff Yin's working on the quota system. I hear that the County needs a
new septic and arresting and collecting fines from folks is the quickest
way to get it paid for. And you don't want to wait to long on fixing your
septic: sure as mushrooms need compost, the voters is bound to raise a
stink if the County septic ain't right.
Only thing I can't figure is how come Belle got herself arrested on the 4th
if the Sheriff is on a quota. Ain't the end of the month--the Fourth didn't
even fall at the end of the week this year. I don't know. Maybe it's got
something to do with them black helicopters that Aunt Maude is always
spotting from up in the attic. (You remember Aunt Maude; she's the one that
did you all them real deep Texas-style curtseys last time you came to
visit. In case you're forgetting, us Texas gals made that form of
curtseying famous up at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City (not the
home of Pace picante sauce, mind you!). Nobody curtseys like we do-not even
them Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders or all your fancy Ladies in them Courts of
Saint James (them Courts got anything to do with your folks' government and
Judicious system?). I mean, it takes more than a high stepping kick to be
able to set your forehead on the floor without poking your rear-end parts
up in the air like an ostrich.
But I'm meaning to tell you about Belle. Now, Harry; here's what I think
you should be doing. I know you and the little lady you done married set
quite a store by our Belle. Seeing how you is rich and Belle ain't, I think
it's only fitting that you get on one of your white horses and ride on over
here and rescue our very own damsel in distress. I figure what with
hitching yourself a ride on that Concorde, hiring a fleet of cars so all us
kin can come on out to the airport to greet you and lead you to Belle,
paying off the Sheriff (and don't forget the new septic for the County),
and your making a donation of Thanksgiving to Preacher so he can do up a
right proper service to welcome Belle back into the fold--and get the pump
organ fixed right so we can have ourselves a good sing at Christmas, it
won't cost you more than twenty, twenty-five thousand dollars American to
put your mind to rest about Belle.
Preacher will be waiting to hear from you. I gots me lots of faith that
I'll be getting a call from Western Union real soon to let me know when you
is getting here, 'cause I know you won't let A Sharp Belle Ringer Be Flat.
Your cousin DeDe/Dede (whose been trying to learn to drive a hard bargain
now that Edna's press ain't running in the attic)