Senior Member
Registered: 09-17-02
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Ruin Christmas? Ruin Christmas!?!? I'm just trying to MAKE it to Christmas.
Ah, Ms. Brown, you must assuredly know that you are virtually the last person on Earth whose Christmas I'd wish to ruin had I even the power to do so. I am no Prospero with his magic books, however - merely Capt. Tuttle (and even that's pretty dubious). But I'm not certain you understand the magnitude of the situation here.
There's this crazed old geezer with a long white beard - and believe me this is no Santa Claus - trying to separate me from my head. In his whackings he's taken serious chunks out of my beloved leather Chesterfield couch, broken my Queen Victoria bust into smithereens, turned bookcase after bookcase into a shambles. This is all most upsetting, Miss Brown. He keeps growling, "Bring out your dead!" and I keep reassuring him, "I'm not dead yet," and that "I'm really feeling better" (I did have a mild cold last week). But he just replies, "You're not fooling anyone, you know," and mumbles something about possible copyright infringements.
Fortunately he's older than dirt and I can still do a 7 1/2 minute mile when needed - much as you, homing in on that offending taxi with your departing luggage like a cheetah closing in on dinner (that must have been a magnificent sight, worthy of display on your Animal Planet) - so I've cheated Death so far. In fact I've worn him out for the moment and he's snoozing by my gas logs (what nerve) but I cannot talk for long (right) and am risking my life for you even now. But it's already near the end of your week with us (Oh, I am Fortune's fool!) and in these extraordinary circumstances I've been unable to clog up your forum every day as I otherwise no doubt would have done. How could this have happened, I wonder? What a loss to humanity. But I've worked out a bargain with him (too hideous to explain in public) whereby if I elude him until your forum closes Friday night I'll be spared (much rejoicing). But a huge sacrifice on my part, as I'll be unable to post anymore this week. Yet it has to be.
But I promise you, Samantha, that I'll watch all your European adventures with rapt attention and affection. Just remember to keep Pantheon and Parthenon in the right cities, and to make sure to etch into your mind every lovely view and vista you encounter there. I can replay so many English and Italian visions in my mind at any dull moment in my life, and am quite certain that with your sparkling imagination and nimble mind you can do the same as well.
I do hope you're writing your own scripts/improvs for Passport. It was evident to me that in the Cruise show sadly you had not, and that was a loss for us. Lovely as you are to see upon the screen (and as your attire seems the primary focus this week, both G. Reaper and I agree you were most fetching indeed in that flowing off the shoulder blouse thing in the City Club episode - you won my heart once again) it is yet in your poetic and articulate verbal expressions that your performances are so appealing and intriguing. Quite a talent you have, and it dazzles us, but the G.R. is beginning to stir in the other room, I fear, and I need to run away again.
Yet I would not ruin your holiday for all the teas in the St. Regis, Ms. Brown (catch that, Kel?), nor abandon you in the ethernet, although I'd like to keep my head on all the same. Ruin Christmas, ideed; I hope it will be your very best, Samantha. And I wish for you indestructible toes, Audrey Hepburn-esque escapades through Europe, the fascination of being in the Pit of London's Globe or the dark sepulchral silence of St. Bart's |