I am ashamed to say I rudely admonished poor Mildred the first time she came to me in a panic saying she'd seen a ghost wandering the halls of the 4th floor. The idea as you might imagine was absurd!
Last night I saw this apparition myself. There is no question. Willowbrooke is haunted!
Iris and myself shall get to the bottom of this the very moment she finishes washing the chocolate pudding out of her hair. She's been fighting with Ethel again. I must say I was surprised at Ethel's strength. Not as surprised as Iris who found herself face down in Henry's lunch this afternoon with Ethel's cane dangerously close to her anus.
9 comments:
Canes close to the anus can cause assholedness.
chocolate pudding is a realy good treatment for strained hair
Mae. Please.
Are you insane, dear?
How many times must I tell you this. You are both hallucinating. From the smell. Of Ethel roaming the halls without her pantaloons firmly in place. The smell is so rank, it has partially restored my vision.
The frigid blast is coming straight from the depths of her withered, barren womb.
I am going to Hinkleshire with this, as soon as I wash out the pudding. Where the hell is Rodney?
In the meantime, have my Aricept. Trust me, you will feel much better.
Iris, have I ever lied to you? Other than the time I was having that sordid affair with the butcher?
We are being haunted! I saw her with my own two eye, Iris. And now I think I know who it is.
It's our dear Crabby.
Now, will you help me get to the bottom of this? There is obviously something Crabby needs from us before she moves on.
On another note, is it true Henry copped a feel of your right breast?
Oh good heavens, you heard about that did you? I thought Henry was going to wipe the lint of my microfiber pants that Petra sent me, and wouldn't you know it, that bastard squoze me like a day old lemon.
He said he thought it was my kneecap. Well suffice it to say that Henry now needs "knee surgury" of his own.
As for the rest, well while Ethel's womanhood is indeed restoring my sight momentarily, I haven't SEEN what you are talking about.
I have a plan though.
I am going to pay off LaTwanda to STOP spongebathing Ethel (egads) and to put her in lots of synthetic layers so that she works up a good odor. Then we'll knock her out and wheel her upstairs. You take off her bloomers and then call Crabby's ghost willy nilly, and maybe as the smell of Ethel's rotting innards will somehow get the eyes watering and seeing clearly and I'll see this ghost.
I'm sorry it comes to these drastic measures dear, but I am stumped.
Make sure you don't eat anything that day, or you will surely vomit.
Iris, Iris, Iris, ghosts can't smell nuthin. We're nasally challenged. We can be invisible tho. Which is why I know you have all of Ethel's missing rosaries hidden inside the handle of your cane there.
tsk tsk. Iris, you're a naughty naught, girl.
Oh good heavens. Rodney, I need another "Depends!"
GASP! It's true then. Crabby is a haint!
` Does the insanity never end? I should hope not....
` I miss you, Crabby! Any chance you could stop being dead?
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