St Muckymuck, Season 2: Tea Party Planning

“Speaking of assignments,” said Bessie.  “Is the plan ready?”

“Operation Guacamole is ready for activation,” said Emma.

“Operation what?” asked Grady.  “What is that?”

“Sorry, Tom,” said Emma, adjusting her glasses.  “We can’t tell you that.”

“Oh, is it top secret?” asked Grady, his eyebrows raised, teacup froze in mid-sip.

“Well, since I AM the top…” said Bessie.

“You’re the Colosseum,” continued Emma.

“You’re the top…” said Grady.

“I’m the Louvre Museum,” Bessie finished.

“You can’t give me a hint?” said Grady, eager to know.

“Well, we could,” said Bessie.

“But we’d have to kill you, Tom,” said Emma.

There was a pause and all three of them burst into laughter.

“Oh, go on, Emma!  Tell him!” said Bessie, laughing.

“Oh all right,” said Emma.  “Let’s just say it involves football and avocados.”

She winked at Bessie.  There was a second pause, and then they laughed hysterically at the puzzled look on Grady’s face.  (c) 2012. Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved.

ST MUCKYMUCK

Season 2

WRITTEN BY STEVEN GORMAN

WHAT YOU READ IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

St Muckymuck, Season 2: Prayer Service Preciousness

“And we’re back,” said Kenny McKiltie.  The camera was focused on an altar that had been set up at the front of a crowded seating area on two sides of a central aisle.  Shug Grant went to a lectern.  “Good afternoon and welcome to this most special of services.  We invite you to stand and turn to page 3152 in your hymnals, ‘In the words of the Great Saint.’”  The congregation all stood and accompanied by the cathedral choir and their accompanist, Christopher Smith. 

Kenny McKiltie continued his reporting.  “The entrance procession has begun, which includes twelve penguins, Fr. Erick Griffiths, the Parochial Vicar for the cathedral, and Fr. Gabriel Byrne, who we mentioned earlier is the rector of the cathedral.”  Everyone was approaching the altar, the penguins were at their seats, when there came a loud, unmistakable bellow.

Shug gasped,  grabbed his mobile phone and began to type, frantically:

                Hey, Tatjana, I think I may have found one of your cows.

People in the congregation turned and began to laugh.  Sure enough, there was a cow making her way slowly down the central aisle.  Fr. Erick turned and went toward her.  “Shoo…go on…shoo!”  He began waving his arms madly in an attempt to get the obviously lost bovine to run along.  But, all he did was spook her.

“We seem to have an emergency here,” said Kenny McKiltie.  “A white and black stray cow has decided to come to the service.  She apparently has a beef with the way it’s been organized.  Oh my GOD!” he shouted in horror.  “She’s…she’s…now she’s…” he was unable to complete a sentence.  “She’s gone back…now she’s going…oh dear…this is horrible!  Now she’s…oooooooooh…that had to hurt!”

She bellowed and then began to circle around, kicking madly, knocking congregants into their neighbors.  Some people began screaming, which only succeeded in frightening the animal into further panic.  She ran up and down the aisle.  Fr. Erick seemed hell-bent on getting the cow to run off.  He continued to chase her, his vestments flapping as he moved, while the cow kicked and bucked.  Two parishioners went over the railing into the river with a splash, as the animal flailed around.

She bumped the covered statue of St. Mocheomoc.  The purple veil slipped off revealing Fr. Eamonn’s reparation to the broken little stony penguin, Percival.  He had glued it on backward so that it now mooned the congregation.  Some shrieked at the sight of it but a kick from the spinning, bawling cow sent the statue wobbling and rocking.  The thumb, index finger, ring finger, and pinky of the Great Saint’s left hand all fell off, smashing to bits on the pavement, leaving one remaining digit.

“The poor dear has now apparently flipped off…I mean…flipped out.  It’ absolute pandemonium here.  And now Fr. Eric has gone running toward the cathedral house.  AND the cow is following him!  Oh, this prayer service won’t be forgotten anytime soon.  And it never even got started!”(c) 2012. Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved.

ST MUCKYMUCK

Season 2

WRITTEN BY STEVEN GORMAN

WHAT YOU READ IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

St Muckymuck, Season 2: Tea

“Thank you, Sylvia,” said Bessie.

“You’re welcome, Ma’am,” said Sylvia, dressed in a black and white maid’s outfit, she curtseyed and went into the house.

“What a lovely day,” said Bessie.

“Yes, I quite agree,” said Emma, sipping tea from a delicate blue china cup with a bright gold rim and handle.

“Not like the last time we were all together,” said Bessie, her speech became dark with meaning.

“No, indeed, Ma’am,” said Grady.

“How long were we on that boat, floating in the Channel?” asked Bessie.

“Oh, long about twelve hours, if I remember correctly,” said Emma.

“It was fortunate that you had a sextant built into your glasses at the time,” said Bessie, taking a luscious cake from a shiny silver tray.

“AND a compass!” said Emma, a finger raised.  They both burst into girlish twitters.

“Indeed,” said Bessie.

“I never thought that assignment would end,” said Grady, sipping tea.

“Oh, I know,” said Emma. 

“The Germans never did figure out what we were doing with those clothes pegs, chicken wire, and potatoes,” said Bessie.

“Trying to contact the Allies in Dover with the ham radio in my glasses,” said Emma, matter-of-factly.

 (c) 2012. Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved.

ST MUCKYMUCK

Season 2

WRITTEN BY STEVEN GORMAN

WHAT YOU READ IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

St Muckymuck, Season 2: St Mocheomoc Feast Day Prayer Service

“This is Kenny McKiltie coming to you live from the scene of the St Mocheomoc Feast Day celebrations.  I’m at the River Cathclyde just in front of the Great Saint’s cathedral.  We’ve got a lovely day here.  The sun is shining yet again, something virtually unheard of here in the west of Scotland.”  He chuckled.  “The prayer service is set to begin at 4:32, Kilcathclyde Daylight Time.  What we are going to see and hear today are some scripture readings, a number of appropriate hymns led by the cathedral choir, then a homily from the rector of the cathedral, Fr. Gabriel Byrne.  

“Fr. Byrne has been in his current position of eleven years now after serving not one but two terms at the prestigious Scarlettfriars Seminary in Rome.  He is 56 years of age.  All this is brought to you courtesy of Vatican Direct TV.  We want everyone in the west of Scotland to get VD!”  He paused.  His ears wiggled as he suppressed the giggles.  “Really, someone should talk to whoever is in charge of their marketing.”  He went silent and placed a hand over his left ear.  Clearly, he was receiving directions from someone.

“I am told the Prayer Service will begin at 4:35 due to an allergic reaction by Fr. Eric Griffiths to the penguins that are bringing forward a special medallion to be placed in the cathedral reliquary.  We have time for a quick break before the service.  We’ll be right back.”

The screen went black.

A short, squat, rosy-faced nun appeared holding an extremely long set of rosary beads.  “Hello there!” said the nun in a sing-song voice.  

 An unseen crowd of people hollered back, “Hello, Sister!”

“I’m Sr. Rosario Ortega…why don’t you do what many other Kilcathclydians have done and come visit my shop: Rosario’s Outrageous Rosaries.”

“OK!” answered the invisible lot.

“I’ve got all sorts of special rosaries for any and all occasions.  We’ve got…”

(A piano rolled an introductory chord.  She broke into song:)

Red ones, blue ones, some are pink.

Fat ones, thin ones, those that blink.

Some are long.

Some are short.

Even special ones for torte!

So come on down, yes come now…

(The crowd:)  Sister, won’t you take a bow??

“Not yet,” she said.  And she began a lilting soft shoe dance.  She twirled and swirled, moving all over the stage in a lively choreography that made her brown and white habit whirl.  Then she tapped the crucifix on the end of the rosary.  The entire strand began to light up in spectacular bright colors, changing with the music.

But that wasn’t all.  She took the rosary beads and began intertwining and manipulating them with her fingers.  The colors flashed and flared as she worked the string.  As the finale to the song approached the chorus broke in:

So, come on down, yes come now.

Sister won’t you take a bow!

And she landed on genuflected knee with her hands outstretched, the glowing prayer beads forming a Jacob’s Ladder across  her hands, the outer strands green, the next ones in purple, the next a deep burgundy, and the crisscrossed ones that formed the rungs on the “ladder,” a light blue.

There was rapturous applause as Sr. Rosario’s shop address flashed on the screen each letter a matching one to the colors in the strand of beads she had crocheted on her fingers.

The screen went black.  (c) 2012. Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved.

ST MUCKYMUCK

Season 2

WRITTEN BY STEVEN GORMAN

WHAT YOU READ IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

St Muckymuck, Season 2: Afternoon Tea for Three

 Emma knocked.  The door opened.  "Hello, Ms. St. Peters."

"Why, Mr. Grady," she said, pleasantly surprised.  "How are you?"

"I'm in excellent health and spirits, my dear.  And how are you?"

"Oh, I'm very well, Tom.  Very well indeed."

"You're looking as fit as I've ever seen you," said Mr. Grady, a handsome man of sixty, his eyes sweeping Emma's feline figure.  "Please do come in.  Your hostess awaits you in the garden.  I'll be just a mo."

"That's lovely, my good man," said Emma, as the man bowed, kissed her hand, and hurried from the room.

ST MUCKYMUCK

Season 2

WRITTEN BY STEVEN GORMAN

WHAT YOU ARE READING IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

He returned in a few moments.  "Please walk this way, Ms. St Peters," he said, extending an arm.

"I'd follow you anywhere," said Emma, as she took his arm.

"Do you remember the night we walked together in Paris?" he asked.

"I do, indeed, Tom," she looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"It was 1944," he said, as the two strolled together.

(He sings:)  The lights glimmering and shimmering in the Seine.

(She continues:) Our hearts fleeting and beating as one.

(Together:)  

The stars all aglow

As we pranced to and fro.

How I wish we could do it again!

(Grady sings:)

How I wish we could do it again.

What do you think, my fair lady?

(Emma sings:)

How I wish we could do it again.

I quite agree, dear Grady.

(Together:)

Just to hold your sweet hand

Makes me feel so grand.

Let's do it again.

Why don't we do it again?

Take, oh take my hand.

After a short dance in the hallway, they arrived in the garden where a warm sun and light breeze greeted them.  "To be continued, Tom," said Emma, her eyes on his.

"Yes, my Sweet, most indubitably," he kissed her hand.  "He turned toward the center of the garden.  Ms. St. Peters to see you, Ma'am."

"Thank you, Tom," came the reply.  "I see you've wasted no time rekindling an old wartime flame."

He blushed.  Four corgi dogs came scrambling up to Emma, barking excitedly, each trying their best to get all of her attention.  "Hello my sweet boys," she said.  Trying to pet them all without being knocked over.

"Emma, welcome, welcome!  Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

"Hello, Bessie, my best friend at all times.  It's been far too long --- far, far too long."

"I'll leave you two to get reacquainted," said Tom.

"Nonsense!" said Bessie.  "You must stay and talk with us, Tommie.  Come on!!  I insist."

"Well," he said, hesitating.  "Allright, Ma'am."

"Oh, how wonderful.  The old team back together after ages and ages," said Bessie.  "I'll ask Sylvia to bring us tea."

(c) 2012. Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved.

St Muckymuck, Season 2: Prayer Service Prologue

Bzzz.  Bz. Bz.  Bzzz.

Shug Grant picked up his mobile phone from the table next to his bed.  It was 4:37 in the morning and he squinted in the light from the phone as he struggled to read the text message he had just received.

     Oh my goodness, Shuggie.  I'm having the worst day...

"It's too early to be having the worst day, Tatjana." groggily mumbled Shug, the director of the St. Mocheomoc Cathedral Choir, as his dozing cat, Bandit, yawned, stretched and rolled over.  "It's a mortal sin to be up at this time of day.  God doesn't get up until 11!"  He continued to read:

You won't believe what's happened.  I've lost not one but TWO cows 

from my research herd.  I can't find them anywhere.  What am I going to do?

Shug typed back sleep threatening to overtake him.  

         How do you lose a cow, Tatjana?  Try retracing your steps.

Within seconds, he received this reply: 

I didn't lose my keys, Shuggie, but two two-ton cows.  I drove a herd of twelve up to Bovinapool to pasture so I could take some utter samples and now two are missing.  Esmerelda and Evelyn.  Oh, Shug.  What am I going to do??  This is sooo awful.  Oh my goodness.   

(c)2012  Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved.

ST MUCKYMUCK

Season 2

WRITTEN BY STEVEN GORMAN

WHAT YOU READ IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Commercial Advertisement

This week on Vatican Direct TV:  special coverage on the St. Mocheomoc Feast Day celebrations taking place in the Scottish city of Kilcathclyde.  There will be a great prayer service along the River Clyde to re-enact the landing of the Great Saint with his pod of penguins on that fateful day.  Then a fantastic parade the next day.  The culmination of the week will be the great solemn mass offered in the cathedral followed by a much awaited football match that afternoon.  Join Kenny McKiltie of KTV, Venus Divagawa, and the unforgettable Mys Tery for a week of scintillating celebration, celebrity, and song. 

All made possible by Vatican Direct TV.  We want everyone in the West of Scotland to get VD!

St Muckymuck, Season 2: Feast Day Preparations, part V

Archbishop Tartuffo’s Office

“Ok, boys, let’s go over what’s going to happen at this big mass on Sunday.”

Bishop Marco Black of the Diocese of Teithmen  and his assistant, Fr William S. Rirey, sat in front of a handsome oak desk.  Behind it was the current Archbishop of Kilcathclyde, Steffano di Tartuffo, who was sitting in a high-backed, black leather recliner.  He was smoking a cigar and had a stack of papers in one hand.

“Is Bisquick going to concelebrate?” asked Bishop Black.

“No,” growled Tartuffo, looking over the papers.  “He’s refereeing the Old Firmament game Sunday afternoon.  He won’t even be at mass.”

Bishop Black grinned wickedly, “Good.  That solves that mystery.  Or does it?”  There was a pause and then he laughed, maniacally.

ST MUCKYMUCK

Season 2

WRITTEN BY STEVEN GORMAN

WHAT YOU ARE READING IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

“Who’s in charge of the prayer service on Friday?” asked Rirey.

“Gabriel and Erick,” said Tartuffo, rifling through the papers stapled together in one corner.

“And Mys Tery is the Parade Queen on Saturday before the festival?” asked Rirey, who was taking notes.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” murmured Black, through gritted teeth.

“What, Marco?”  said Tartuffo, who continued to shuffle through the papers, his cigar with a great long ash dangling from it.

“Nothing,” Black sang.  “Nothing at all.  Just taking notes.  Yes, yes to Mys Tery.”  He looked away, as his countenance darkened.

“And the mayor will be at the parade with Mys Tery, as her escort,” said Tartuffo.  “I’ll be sure to wear my Kevlar chasuble that day.  Write that down, Rirey.”

“Kevlar chasuble...got it!” he replied, scribbling.

“And it appears there’s an exclusive party after the festival on Saturday night.  Nettie the Knitting Kitten will be performing along with Elsie the Tarantula and Big Fannie White at Kilcathclydeceltcroftcastle.”

“Oh, great!” said Rirey.  “I knew about Elsie but not the others.”

“That Big Fannie’s white hot as far as I’m concerned,” said Tartuffo, puffing on his cigar.

Black sat up a tad bit straighter.  “Oh yeah?” he asked trying to sound authentic.  “You…you think so?”  Nervously, he pulled up black socks on very hair legs in front of the desk out of Tartuffo’s line of sight.

“Yeah,” affirmed Tartuffo.  “I’d like to see what SHE can do with a cigar?”  He laughed, masculinely, while Bishop Black shifted in his seat and wilted slightly.

(c)2012  Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved.

St Muckymuck, Season 2: Feast Day Preparation, part IV

St Mocheomoc Cathedral

“OK, everyone, rehearsal in five minutes,” called out Chris Smith, the choir organist, standing in the cathedral door.  Within a few minutes all had assembled in the choir loft to the right of the great mosaic of Mocheomoc with Percival in his hand that adorned the dome above the altar.

“Where’s Ina?” said Chris.

“She’s outside,” said Grace.  “In a coma… by the river.”

“Well, someone go and drag her in here.  We can’t have rehearsal without her.”

Bob Robertson, the bass and boyfriend of Holly, the missing treasurer of the choir, sighed loudly.  “Why does it always fall to me to get Ina??  I feel like I should change my name to ‘someone’.”

“Oooo…good idea,” chimed in Bebe, the soprano.  “Won’t it be good to know you ARE someone?”  She said this with all sincerity.

Bob rolled his eyes and walked out the back of the cathedral.  “OK, everybody, let’s start our warm ups.  I’ve got a cracking good one to teach you today,” Chris said, getting everyone’s 

attention.  “Six sexy salivating swans…”

ST MUCKYMUCK

Season 2

WRITTEN BY STEVEN GORMAN

WHAT YOU ARE READING IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

The large door to the cathedral that Bob had just exited, burst open.  Two men in black, each with an earphone in their right ears, rushed in unrolling a red carpet that spanned the length of the cathedral and the width of the center aisle.  They were followed by two  more very handsome men in black also with earphones and sporting reflective sunglasses, one chewing gum.  They held pistols with the barrels pointing toward the ceiling and scanned the nave of the cathedral for miscreants.

One of them pulled out a walkie-talkie.  “OK – all clear.  Over.”

“Right,” came a crackly voice from the walkie-talkie.

In came two more men in black, followed by a young woman in a fine dress suit with her hair pulled up in a nice bun, with a clipboard tucked under one arm, a walkie-talkie of her own, and a ring loaded with dozens of keys suspended from a long, coiled cord.  She was followed by a photographer, two more men in black, and, finally, a pretty Asian woman dressed in pastel orange.  She was followed by two more men in black.  She held up two hands and exclaimed,” HI EVERYBODY!!!  I’M HEEEEERE!!”  She laughed melodically.

Bebe turned around to Chris.  “Mia’s here.”

“Oh, great!  We need another soprano!”

 (c)2012  Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved.

St Muckymuck, Season 2: Feast Day Preparations, part III

St Mocheomoc High School football pitch

In the stands facing the football pitch sat a petite, lithe, cat-like elderly woman dressed in all black.  She sported sunglasses due not only to the bright Scottish sun which cascaded upon her, nor was it only due to the fact that she was legally blind, the result of a botched cataract operation, but the glasses were also an essential tool in her lifelong espionage career.  She tapped a jewel on the frame of the specially designed glasses and a finely detailed photograph in the highest resolution imaginable was taken and downloaded onto her personal MI13 page.  There was a whirring sound and beep only the woman could hear.  Two seconds later, her mobile phone rang with the “Hornpipe” from Handel’s Water Music.

“Emma here…you got the pic?...no…he’s completely unaware…he’s busy inspecting the football field grass as it’s just been mowed…yes…yes…”

ST MUCKYMUCK

Season 2

WRITTEN BY STEVEN GORMAN

WHAT YOU ARE READING IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Down on the field was an average sized man dressed in his everyday black bishop’s uniform but sporting an enormous golden lame mitre, which brilliantly caught and reflected the powerful sun like a beacon.  In his right hand was a majestic staff with a grand crook on the top of it.  Since it was fashioned out of gold, it, too, caught the celestial rays of the sun and directed them into the stands where Emma sat.  She pushed a jewel on the opposite side of her glasses and within nanoseconds the lenses became two shades darker.

The retired Archbishop of Kilcathclyde, Clementino Biscotti, called out to a skinny, very effeminate but handsome fellow riding a lawnmower tractor.  It bore the crest of the Archdiocese of Kilcathclyde: two crossed ice cream cones floating over a frying pan.  Biscotti was swiping the pitch grass with a very shiny black show.  “You’ve missed a spot here, Mr. Leach.”

The man started the lawnmower and then moved it across the area indicated by the Archbishop.  Then he turned it off.  Biscotti moved over several years and repeated the action.  “You know, I thought you had finished too quickly when you came to get me claiming to be through.  Did you go over the grass in both directions, as instructed?”

“Yes, Your Grace, of course I did.”

“Of course you did, my foot,” said the Archbishop, scraping the grass again.  “Look at this.  Here’s another spot.”

The lawnmower whirred into action and Mr. Leach ran it over the area.  When it stopped, Biscotti spoke as though uninterrupted.  “Perhaps the blades need sharpening?”

“Perhaps,” sighed Mr. Leach.

“Look, yet another spot.  Really, Stacy, I could just whack you with my stick!”  he said, brandishing his golden staff.

“Promises.  Promises,” murmured Leach.

“Now, see, here, Stacy, this is no time for euphemism.  As the president of the Ordained Against Field Supremacy Society, I cannot tolerate such things standing erect amongst the grass.”

“Yeah, OK.  Whatever,” he replied.  “Just because you’re the referee for this match doesn’t change the fact I’m I charge.”

“Well, that is neither here nor there.  Right now, I’m on top!”

“…yes…yes…for lunch?...on Tuesday…why, yes, I would be delighted….Oh, I agree, it’s been far too long…I’m looking forward to it already…OK, see you then.  Ta-ta, Bessie.”