George: “I’m so happy to finally have you in my arms.”
Janet: “Oh, is that what you’re calling these things that are encircling my virginal body with an intensity that I can’t fully appreciate? For some reason, the phrase ‘death claws’ comes to mind.”
George: “Whatever do you mean, my love?”
Janet: “It means put me down before I soil my delicate womb-raiment with a combination of outrage and fear.”
George: “I don’t understand. In our letters, you spoke endlessly of your burning desire to be rapturously taken in a field of clover and hyacinth. Such a field is just over yonder, one I methodically cultivated during my many years of incarceration. We’ll have to hurdle the barbed-wire fence to gain access to penitentiary grounds, but everything there has been sown with the seeds of our mutual desire.”
Janet: “That’s just it, the incarceration. And the disparity about the mutual desire. When I signed up for the prison pen-pal program, something I only did because it would look good on my resume, I never dreamed that they would actually release you.”
George: “But you shared all of your forbidden desires with me, even the one about the clown who has a balloon that pops unexpectedly. That was my favorite, one I fully understand after seven years of nowhere for me to pop.”
Janet: “Perhaps you missed the part about me never expecting that you would be released. At least into society. I’m sure there was some degree of release when you dropped the soap in the communal shower. I’m not naïve, you know. I get satellite TV.”
George: “This greatly deflates me, just like the burly men who recovered my dropped soap and then resorted to a thuggish manner of bartering. Well, I guess I misunderstood certain things, which is no surprise considering my conviction in a court of law. I suppose I should just plow under our Field of Dreams and then go dig up the money.”
Janet: “Wait. Money? What money?”
George: “The money I stole that eventually led to a slippery soap and a previous pen pal that had completely different accessories than you. It’s all mine now. I’ve already served the time, so they can’t stop me from spending it.”
Janet: “Oh. And exactly how much money are we talking about? I only ask from a scholastic perspective, of course.”
George: “Four million dollars. And some change. I never counted the money in one of the duffel bags, because once you hit four million, what’s the point?”
Janet: “It seems to me that at this point I should marry you. And I have my own shovel. It’s a beautiful arrangement.”
George: “Not so fast, Slitherina. I’ve now had time to contemplate our conversation, and it’s obvious to me that you had no intention of furthering our relationship.”
Janet: “Whatever would give you an idea like that?”
George: “Your hat, my former dear. No one would wear such a hideous thing if they had any desire to consummate beyond pen and paper.”
Janet: “How absurd. I think you’re making much ado about an otherwise innocent use of accessories.”
George: “Then you’ve clearly never dropped the soap in Cell Block D.”
Previously published. Minimal changes made. Foreshadowing Alert: It’s been a crazed week here at Bonnywood (thus explaining my WordPress absence of late), with an alarming number of dissatisfying things happening all at once. Nothing overwhelmingly major, but lots of little minors that tested my patience and my supply of anxiety meds. Expect a few upcoming posts wherein I reflect upon this week and mull the meaning of life and the wretchedness of modern society. In other words, more of the same from Bonnywood.
Cheers.
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
Oh nooo! A plethora of petite problems, leading to rambling, righteous rants?
I’m very sorry, and expectantly excited. Kinda like Janet after she heard about the money… except I’d never wear a flower pot cozy as a chapeau.🤨
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It’s truly been a week that has tested me, and I’d really like to forget it and just move on. But since I got all cocky in this post and promised future rants, I’m somewhat locked in to the commitment. We shall see.
That flower pot, though? Just, no.
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Ah, Janet, the hat? What’s with that? No one takes a basketweave bonnet seriously since Julie Andrews took up looking after a dozen Wan Krapp kids.
Soap in Cell Block D? That gets poor George all in a lather, still.
(Sounds like life at Bonnywood Manor took a downwards turn. Adjust the smile and the meds!. Life sometimes is a capricious bitch.)
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As for Julie Andrews, I don’t think I ever fully recovered from my youthful eyes encountering the image of the Wan Krapp kids cavorting about in a fountain whilst dressed in matching drapery-based outfits and wailing a rhyming ditty. There’s just not enough therapy in the world.
Thanks for the “chin up” sentiment. There was no true devastation, but lots of irritation and dissatisfaction. I’m sure this shall pass, too, especially if I can locate a fountain where I can sing and dance… 😉
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I know I’m in the minority, but the Sound Of Carsick is beyond bad. My mother went off and saw it and returning from the State all a’rapture said,’Son you gotta see it.’
Once seen, not to be unseen. ‘My Favourite Things?’ Ah, nope.
Can’t help you in finding a fountain to cavort in in. My days of Toga parties and draped in drapes are in the past, but if that is what moves you, dance on. Remember, choose drapes that are colour-fast.
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Oh Sunshine is a beautiful movie 😍
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Sunrise*, damn phone 😅
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It really is a remarkable movie. The imagery is still stunning…
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Hats don’t get much worse than that one.
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It IS rather appalling. But I’ll counter that mess with this: Remember those wretched “hats” in the 70s that were composed of pieces of beer cans tied together with yarn? Wait, you may have already been out of the country. I might have to send you a shocking photo or two… 😉
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Your absence has been noted sir, and will not be tolerated for much longer. Straighten that crown and carry on.
😉
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I have failed in my royal duties, clearly, but I’m hoping that I can recover from the fallout of my malfeasance…
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They get married despite the ugly hat and live happily ever after even if the stash of four million dollars never materializes. Janet uses this against George for the rest of her life and orders him to do this and that to make up for the shortfall.
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Meanwhile, someone named Glenda discovers the four million whilst innocently digging for mushrooms, and she uses her newfound wealth to establish The Society for Helping Poorly-Hatted People Find Eventual Redemption… 😉
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On one charity event for poorly-hatted people, Janet and George meet Glenda whose tongue slips under the influence of alcohol. George heard it and he immediately starts to think about leaving Janet and flee with Glenda, but Glenda tells him her interest is in Janet. Glenda and Janet start a new animal sanctuary and a new animal clinic. George is not happy with the situation, but Janet and Glenda bought him a boat to cheer him up. He could circle Galveston every day if he wants and eat as much seafood as his cholesterol level allows him.
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Brilliant! 🙂 🙂
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My first impulse was that “Janet” was repulsed by George because he hadn’t shaved since God made little green apples. Some men wear the ‘rumpled’ look with aplomb and grace and to me? George looks toothsome and fetching, but Janet has an air of fastidiousness that tells me that she doesn’t appreciate a non-clean-shaven chin. Thus the millinery faux pas. That bucket on the head effect tells me that Janet isn’t as conscious of fashion as she’d lead us to believe.
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Oh, and because I have an over-active “send” finger, my sympathies on life being mean. I look forward to your release through writing and perhaps a lightening of your situation. We’re here when you’re ready. ❤
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Of course Janet is repulsed by the hirsuteness of George’s face. After all, she grew up in Connecticut, where every male is required to shave twice a day whilst making huge amounts of money in the stock market. Sadly, Connecticut forgot to implement any regulations concerning absurd head couture.
That “God made little green apples” is ringing a bell. Are those lyrics from a song, probably from the 70s. My mind is a little unfocused since I got the second Covid shot a few days ago and I’m out of sorts…
And yes, there will be a “release through writing”. The randomly odd things that happened to me this week deserve further scrutiny, but I need to shake off the aforementioned “Covid Haze” before I can properly do so…
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Sorry to hear that. I hope you get well soon. I heard about people with a bit of feverish reaction to the vaccine. Hope you get out your haze soon. Get well.
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Yes, I didn’t know the artist, although I thought I did.
It’s Roger Miller
if you’d like a tiny stroll down Memory Lane.
The mention of the 2nd Covid injection made everything click into place. I’ve heard it’s pretty ghastly, even if one is now (theoretically) immune to the virus. I hope things are improving! ❤
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Your musings are always appreciated and I hope the negativity turns to positivity at some point.
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Thank you muchly. The negativity was essentially just a brief dip and I’m already back to my usual positive self. After all, I got my second Covid shot in the midst of the week’s madness, and I really don’t have any right to whine after achieving that milestone of relief…
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I can’t think of a more deserving person to get shot…twice.
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Enter the cloche hat. Of course, it was given a French name to try to imply some kind of sophistication, but really, when you’re wearing a bell on your head, prison pen pals are probably the least of your concerns. Janet: ditch the chapeaux, get a a new haircut, and steal your own money. You’ll feel a whole lot better about yourself. 😉
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It IS amazing how often folks try to gussy up the situation by throwing in a French word or two. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.
What DOES work? The new catchphrase that you have just invented. I would certainly wear a t-shirt with the slogan “Ditch the chapeaux, get a new haircut, and steal your own money”. That seems like the perfect answer to so many problems in the world… 😉
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Hahaha. 🙂 Merci.
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Nicely done
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Thank you!
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I think the last time I left a comment about a Sunday School crafts involving strawberry baskets and weaving strips of newspaper, so I’ll pass on discussing how her hat came to be for now. I merely want to point out that my memory does function from time to time, though never with useful information.
Ah, your second shot arrived and your immune system is fully functioning! Rejoice, our club is ever growing! (In all sincerity, I hope you feel better soon.)
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Yes, the last of your comments that I recall perusing involved the weaving-strip basket. And I’m assuming (though I don’t have scientific proof of such) there said mention triggered something in the more murky layers of my craniology and I subconsciously sought out this particular post for a re-share. We move in mysterious ways.
To be fair, the side effects of that second shot were much more minimal than I anticipated. A small part of me was curiously disappointed, in that I expected much more drama, coupled with the lore travelling about that a strong reaction to the second does is an indication that one has a top-notch immune system. If the lore is true, then apparently my system is a bit sub-par. But I shan’t dwell. I’m just very happy it’s done…
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For the record I was never met a Janet nor was I in the movie Sunrise.
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I included an extra ‘was’ in case anybody needs one.
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It is difficult to keep your words in order when deception is at play. I know what you did that summer…
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