Cary: “So, did you sneak in the hacksaw so I can cut through these bars and blow this joint?”
Katharine: “I might have. Or maybe I didn’t. You need to answer some questions first.”
Cary: “I got nothin’ else to do in here except hope that I don’t become somebody’s girlfriend. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Ask away.”
Katharine: “Well, since you mentioned girlfriends, the word on the street is that you have plenty of them. I don’t think you take me seriously.”
Cary: “I always take you seriously. Especially your hair. One wrong move and I could lose an arm.”
Katharine: “You got a problem with my hair?”
Cary: “I think you’re the one that has a problem with hair.”
Katharine, pausing and blowing smoke: “You got a lotta sass for somebody that’s about to assume the position and pray for daylight. Maybe me and the hacksaw should consider our options.” She hands her cigarette to one of the extras playing a cellmate/potential lover and sashays toward the exit.
Cary: “Don’t leave me this way! Now come on girl and do what you gotta do.”
Katharine: “I’ve heard that song before, Cary. I ain’t no Thelma Houston.” She grabbed the knob of the security door in a dramatic manner that she had learned during her thespian years at Bryn Mawr College, then she paused. “Of course, I do recall how you satisfied the need in me.”
Cary, hope surging: “Only my good lovin’ can set you free.”
Katharine plucked her cigarette out of the cellmate/potential lover’s mouth with an audible pop (said cellmate was oddly used to things being taken out of his mouth by force and did not complain) and she took another drag. “But you have to understand that I’m NOT at your command.”
Cary: “Duly noted. Now pop me out of here before something else gets popped.”
Katharine reached under her skirt and pulled out a jackhammer. “Where can I plug this in?”
Cary: “Honey, I think you’re burnin’ out of control. I just asked you to bring a hacksaw. Was there a misunderstanding?”
Katharine: “I’m a very busy girl and I just grabbed the first thing lying around the house on my way out the door. Do you want out of there or not?”
Cary, reassessing his limited options: “Do what you need to do. And then I’ll do you. But I’m not sure I can compete with the jackhammer.”
Katharine: “Nothing ever can. That’s why it was lying around the house. Now stand back.”
Cary, doing so: “I think I finally understand the hair.”
Originally published in “Crusty Pie” on 06/02/16. Modified and extended for this post. Interesting trivia: After I had rewritten most of this bit, I looked up the song on Google to make sure I was fairly true to the lyrics. One of the songwriters of “Don’t Leave Me This Way” is named Cary Grant Gilbert. Kid you not. That’s an eerie bit of cosmic overlap…
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
Explains a lot more than the hair!
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True enough. I’m surprised she can hold a cup of tea without spilling it…
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LOL 🙂
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🙂 🙂 🙂
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Okay, am I the only one who absolutely loves her hair? Said by one with terminally straight hair.
And I am seriously, amazingly, adverb-heavily impressed with the cosmic overlapping in this post. Seriously.
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I must confess to a long-running Crusty Pie tradition wherein I poke fun at Katharine’s hair, to the point where the first thing I do upon stumbling on a new photo of Ms. Hepburn is to check the status of the follicles. Her hair is quite lovely in this shot, assuming you are in need of a palapa for the back patio…
As for the secondary Cary, I googled the heck out if it to make sure my initial discovery wasn’t just an errant typo. Si, es cierto…
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BWAHAHAHAH!!! I never have ever seen a picture of Katharine (the Great to some of us) that young. (do you ever wonder about the spelling of the name “Kath…..e?” it’s got so many variations it could become it’s own country pert near).. Ms Katharine could hide a whole tool box in that hair, which is glossy and lustrous and nothing like the voluminous but frizzy ‘dos of her later career. Whatever the conversation between the two of them was, both look furtive and one could tell, were one paying strict attention (like the guard who obviously took a long potty break) , that something untoward was afoot. I hope Cary stands well back. Those unleashed jack hammers go their own way. Singing (very very softly because people don’t know that jackhammers CAN sing):
Loving you
Isn’t the right thing to do
How can I ever change things
That I feel
If I could
Maybe I’d give you my world
How can I
When you won’t take it from me
You can go your own way
Go your own way
You can call it
Another lonely day
You can go your own way
Go your own way
Tell me why
Everything turned around
Packing up
Shacking up is all you want to do
If I could
Baby I’d give you my world
Open up
Everything’s waiting for you
You can go your own way
Go your own way
You can call it
Another lonely day
You can go your own way
Go your own way…..
Come to think of it, those lyrics (nod to Fleetwood Mac) could fit that photo jest fine.. Heh. I originally thought there was something about the Police in that satire, but Thelma leapt up and took the honor. Righteously.
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Oh, I can dig out some photos of Katzerina from a much younger age, during her days on Broadway in the late 20s. She was always striking, but the softness of young life was very enchanting on her. The she hardened up a bit and was striking in a different way. Not saying bad, just saying different…
Now, that aside, more trivia de moi: I’ve always had a difficult relationship with my father, a couple of times we actually bonded over a few musical groups. One was Fleetwood Mac, especially the “Rumours” album. The other was, believe it or not, ABBA…
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