Marilyn-Aphrodite spoke to Tom Delay again. And she said, “Tom, I saw you in the news today…”
To which Tom replied, “Oh boy, you s-sure make a pretty postcard, Marilyn, sweetheart.”
“You’re stuttering again, Tom. It breaks my heart to see you stutter so, and everyone laughing at you, laughing at you, Tom.”
“Prettier than a postcard, M-Marilyn. Nice and impressionistic like….”
“Tom,you’re killing your soul, Tom. Why don’t you leave politics and come and sit with me in the field and watch the titmice play? I wouldn’t laugh at you, Tom. Do I look like the kind of a girl who would laugh at you for stuttering? In my white dress, earthy, wind-blown, no shoes or stockings, grass itching my legs but I don’t care, I’d only have eyes for you, you’d only have eyes for me. I would listen to you all day long without laughing, not that we wouldn’t be having fun, I mean I’d never laugh once at my stuttering Tom Delay. It would be like music to my ears, your stuttering, as long as you quit politics and came and sat in the field with me. All natural Marilyn-Aphrodite and her all natural, stuttering Tom Delay.”
To which Tom Delay replied, “Ok.”
Or at least he did in an alternate dimension, but not in ours.
In our universe, he did this. (Go, just go look. Even if you’re a visitor breezing through from Google who is immediately aware that I don’t have what you wanted. Because if you don’t follow the link you’ve forgotten how the divine consciousness that is the internet may deliver, in lieu of the wanted, what you need, just beyond that next link, and you don’t deserve that mouse.)
There ends today’s Loveland epistle.
First installment of Marilyn-Aphrodite attempts to redeem the immortal soul of Tom Delay here
Second installment of Marilyn-Aphrodite attempts to redeem the immortal soul of Tom Delay here