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Sunday, October 10, 2004

Concealment Does Not Feed On My Damask Cheek, Already!

I am so tired that I fall out of my chair every four minutes or so. Despite my infirm condition and my unreliable narration, I want you to believe that I would never hide anything from you. You are my favorite reader. My amended last will and/or testament was sewn into my coat pocket, and the coat fell into the river. Ergo the old will stands. That is why you will never inherit the Packard Hundred. If you kill your brother in a knife fight or slay him with a velvety cushion from the good room, you are a scoundrel and your mother will die in the poorhouse. If you lock your mother in the attic and tell the neighbors she has choked on a chop and passed on, you are a blackguard and your brother will certainly kill you with a railroad brick. What action do you take, you wily old prospector? I suggest that you find that coat, but what do I know? And no, I won't make a third will. I don't want to complicate matters.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

I will see you in Probate Court then. Or Chancery Court. Whichever you prefer. Choose your Court, madam, and we shall engage at ten paces. May the best Court win the Packard Hundred! .... any relation to the Chiltern Hundreds? You see, I have already taken them and would not like to have two fo the same hundred.

- www.Stephenesque.org

12:26 PM  
Blogger Esther Wilberforce-Packard said...

Now, we needn't take this little dispute into any court of law or food. We can make "arrangements." See, I'll sneak into Old Lady Crumpile's root cellar and bang on the kitchen floor. You run around the outside of the house, hooting like an owl. Sandy can throw a steak to the dog, and Jimbo Tubbs will grab the liquor while the old lady's checking out the root cellar! When she gets downstairs, I'll pretend to have a seizure, and when she goes for help, I'll join you guys by the caves and we'll all get drunk as hell! I hope this compromise suits you. It's my last good idea.

10:04 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

But I don't trust any of them. Not after last time and the moldy tangerine incident. I'm still picking the seeds out of my hair. I'd better just roll the whole thing in sicky blubber and beetroot juice and then feed it to the camel.
That should work, it normally does


8:24 AM  

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