Sunday, November 6, 2011


A bright sunny day in early November. We find Blanche and her sister Jane in the front room of their Bleeker Street house. Jane is fiddling with a huge ball of tangled Christmas lights. She is beginning Holiday preparations early. Meanwhile, Blanche is watching the Blue Jays munch on sunflower seeds from the feeder just outside the window. It’s 12 degrees celcius and just a bit past 2PM. Winds are light from the southeast.

Jane: Frick frakin’ finger snappin’ butt…

Blanche: Why Jane Dear- whatever is the matter?

Jane: It’s these G**$#* Christmas lights Sister Dear ~puff, drag, cough~

Blanche: Burned out bulb?

Jane: ~puff, puff~ No, If only. Look Blanche. Look! I took them out of the box like this!

Blanche: I am looking Jane Darling but all I see is a bunch of lights all tied up in a big ball.

Jane: That’s what I see too Blanche, a bunch of lights in a big freekin’ ball. Who in thename of holy old Hell would have shoved strings of lights back in a box like this ~puff, puff~?

Blanche: Jane Dear, it’s nothing to get that upset about. I distinctly remember that sleezeball friend of yours- Johnnie Strongman, helped you dismantle the Christmas Tree last year. He also took down the outdoor Christmas light strings too- if I am remembering correctly.
Jane: What is it with you Blanche that you always remember things correctly? What the **#* are you a freeking elephant?

Blanche: No…I…ummm…Now Jane Dear. Really! I was just trying to make polite conversation! That’s all Jane Dear.

Jane: What the F*** are you saying Blanche? ~puff, drag, puff, puff~

Blanche: Jane, I am simply suggesting that Johnnie may have shoved those lights you’re holding in your fat little hands, into your box.

Jane: Look Blanche Dear, Johnnie Strongman may have shoved something into my box- but it wasn’t these here Christmas lights!!

Blanche: Oh Jane Dear! I dislike it so when you speak like the cheap harlot you are. If I could only get up out of this darn chair, I’d run across the room and stuff those lights in your blasphemous, dirty mouth Sister Dear!

Jane: But Blanche Dear ~puff, puff~ You can’t. We’ve been over this time and time again. Now shut up and wheel yourself out to the kitchen and bring me a pair of scissors, oh and a mug of hot cider with a few fingers of Captain Morgan!

Blanche: You’re such a “cut up” Sister ! Hah! Hah! A big slut and an equally big cut up!