Marlon, center left: “Honey, these gentlemen would like to speak to you about our houseboy who went missing last night.”
Elizabeth, center right: “Why on earth would they think I had anything to do with that?”
Marlon: “Well, it’s your hair, dear. It’s obvious that it can’t be all yours so there must be something shoved up in there.”
Elizabeth: “So you think I’m using the hired help to give me volume?”
Marlon: “Well, it does sound a bit odd when you put it like that. But we can’t find him. And you were the last person he was seen with, when the two of you were spotted singing show tunes on the lanai.”
Elizabeth: “This is absurd. I think this is all a charade you planned out just so your beastly army buddies can ogle my stellar breasts.”
Marlon: “Well, I must say that I didn’t see that line coming.”
Elizabeth: “Of course you didn’t. You never pay attention to anything. But I do. Like the bandage on your temple. What’s going on with that? Did you hurt yourself when you snuffed out the life of the houseboy because he can carry a tune and you can’t?”
Marlon: “Actually, no. I got this laceration last night in bed when you flipped over and your hair came at me like a weed-whacker in heat.”
Cigarette-Smoking Man on the right, long before he began appearing in cryptic episodes of The X-Files: “Can we be done with all these sexual euphemisms? I’m late for my tee-off time at the country club, which is much more important than any of this.”
Elizabeth: “We could be done. But why take away from the fun? Besides, I’ve noticed that you are the only one in the room who isn’t looking at Jupiter and Saturn. Something tells me you might know a show tune or two. Care to elaborate? You can be euphemistic about it, if you want. Like the cigarette you’re smoking.”
Cig Man: “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Elizabeth: “Exactly. I know the feeling very well, with these pointless accusations. Now, all of you, get the hell out of my house. I’m late for an appointment as well. I’m due for a hydraulic injection at Edna Mae’s Beauty Shop, and she doesn’t take kindly to latecomers. Now scoot!”
Originally published in “Crusty Pie” on 10/22/16 and “Bonnywood Manor” on 12/28/16. Modified and extended for this post.
Later that afternoon…
Edna Mae: “Darlin’, I don’t know if should jack this hair of yours any higher. Aren’t you afraid of low-flying planes?”
Elizabeth: “Girl, that’s the least of my worries right now. Jack away. Say, do you know any houseboys who can sing? I seem to be a bit short on those lately.”
Edna Mae: “Well, there’s that one cousin of mine who can sing the hell out of a show tune even though he pretends like he doesn’t know any of those songs. Name is Mike Pence. He’s not doing anything important these days, especially since the company he works for is about to be shut down.”
Elizabeth: “Sounds perfect. Write his number on one of your business cards and tuck it into my hair on my way out.”
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
Hilarious 😅
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love it when I see that word in the comments… 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Then you should be happy. All your posts in this series are hilarious 🤣
LikeLiked by 1 person
Too funny! It’s like a bird can live in her hair. All of the sudden though, I want to watch Hairspray the Musical.
LikeLiked by 1 person
And I would imagine all the birds in her hair would like to watch “Hairspray” as well, if they can just fight their way out of that mess to see the TV screen… 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
this is a great one!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Beth! I love messing around with the old Past Imperfects to see if I can squeeze out another giggle or two…
LikeLike
You’re killing me
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s just one of the many services we offer here at Bonnywood. Have you tried the Harvey Wallbangers at the Lido Bar? Those’ll kill you, too… 😉
LikeLike
I confess that her hair was not the first thing I noticed about her. J.
LikeLiked by 1 person
How could you NOT notice? Elizabeth Taylor is one of the reasons why they invented widescreen TV…
LikeLike
I would have sported a guess that the laceration (aka skull fracture) on Brando was caused by being whacked (weeds optional) by one of those massive girls. Them things must weigh ten to twenty five pounds (at least) a piece! Could make another woman feel inadequate. And the following line popped into my sullied mind when I first glimpsed that photo and before I read your on-point, pithy and witty script. *snicker* Okay:
Elizabeth: “Okay who’s first?”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, my. Yes, Liz does seem a bit aggressive with both her stance and her physiology, so I can see why your mind went there. I knew a number of people like her in my formative years. One of them might have been me, but we’ll keep that on the down-low for now, shall we? 😉
LikeLike
Really?? Do tell, because some of us live vicariously through stories of others’ more adventurous bed room frolics… 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hahaha. 😀
An alien ship full of Lilliputians landed on her head and she decided to keep them, their ship and their tech nailed to her head. That’s why all those military types are hanging around. But they couldn’t figure it out. You had to wait for a certain hero with an orange cast of mind, and then bimbo! er… bingo! Emails landed on the Earth. 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
You have just expertly summarized the plight of America over the last two-plus years. I think you should win a generous prize for your insight, but in order to make that happen I would have to contact a government agency, and many of them have been shut down lately because the Orange Bimbo can’t pull his head out of his ass…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hydraulic injection. Too funny!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Just relax and count backwards from 100…
LikeLiked by 1 person
I want to know what the seated guy is looking at. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Do you really? Some things are better left unexplored… 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ha ha ha. No, I don’t want to know.
LikeLiked by 1 person