Fantasy Friday

Margie: Edna, I'm tired of the same old Thanksgiving. You always have to have
things like they've been for all our lives. We always have turkey and that nasty
cranberry sauce plus your watery potatoes. I mind my manners and try to
eat that stuff but I'm done. I'm doing something different this year.

Edna, I'm going to have Thanksgiving in Paris. How do you like that?

Edna:  I say bon appetit!  The farther away from me you are, the better, especially at the holidays.  I'll finally get to enjoy what I want for a change without having to hold my tongue while you pout and whine because I didn't make something just the way you like it.  Sounds like pure bliss to me.

Margie: Sister, I am so glad you feel that way! You just feel free to cook anything you like. I'll even bring back some of those French candies you like.

May I borrow your credit card now, sister?

Edna:  Oh honey, if you think I'm going to finance your trip then you'd best think again.  This was all your idea, so you can just do your fundraising on your own.  And no, "fundraising" does not include emptying out my coin purse or ransacking my room for valuables to sell.

 

Margie: Edna can ruin a fantasy quicker than anybody else I know.

Margie and The Frenchman

Margie: I am having so much fun while Edna is gone. She will throw a hissy fit when she hears my latest news. You see, I was sitting on the porch today when this fancy car pulled up in the drive. Cousin T was fixing the porch step and he said that was a Roller Royce car that had pulled up.

Sakes alive, I don't know cars. Cousin T assured me, though, that it was a very expensive one.





Margie: The car door opened and a nice gentleman stepped out. He even brought his dog. He walked up to the porch and said his name was Pierre and he'd come to Jericho from Paris, France.

Well, Cousin T was making a spectacle of himself what with his mouth hanging open so I had to swat him to remind him of his manners.

This Pierre says he's looking for Edna. Well, blow me over. Who'd want to look for Edna? He wasn't making much sense so I just told him to stop all that parlee voo nonsense and speak English.

I finally made him understand that Edna had left home and was taking a tour on the Biddy Bus. I don't think he understood me but he did ask me out to dinner. I borrowed Edna's pink dress and some of her French perfume and off we went to Bailey's,

Those old gossips are wagging their tongues tonight. I can't wait for them to tell Edna. In the meantime, Pierre and I are going to the movies tonight.

Let me see what Edna has to wear.

Margie and Edna: Elvis Lives

Margie: Here's a picture of me, Cousin T, and Cousin T's mama when we first met Elvis. I knew your head had a purpose, Cousin T.


Margie: Edna, I was just thinking about the time I had Elvis in the basement for a visit. What a lovely gentleman he was. We had Special Tea and I made his favorite peanut butter sandwiches. You were gone to Paris, Texas so that made his visit even more special.

Edna: Margie, every time you open your mouth, you give me cause to worry about your mental status. First of all, I went to Paris, France, not Paris, Texas. Second of all, when I was in Paris, France, that young man was barely out of short pants, so I can't imagine you'd have been "entertaining" him in the basement. You always did get your stories mixed up.

Margie: You are a lying liar. You have never been to France, fool. If you'd been to France you'd know some French words like the ones Elvis whispered to me.

Edna: Land sakes, how could I have heard what he whispered to you, you maroon? But, I'm betting what he actually said to you was "Vous etes fou et dangereuse" and then he escaped from the basement, yelling "Aidez-moi!"

Margie, you're the lying liar, you know full well that I've been to France. You're just saying I haven't to vex me, and it surely is working! Besides, you know the government asked me not to talk about it, so that's all I'm going to say about that.

Margie: And I have a final word for you, you Nut! Who do you think took Elvis in when he tired of the spotlight? Elvis lives! In my basement.

Here are the pictures I took of him in the basement, you fool.