Pricilla Courtess
Oh, you just would not believe the day me and my fluffy
little angel pie have had. It started
off with the usual; I just couldn’t find my carton of Pall Malls anywhere, always getting away from me
those things. As soon as I find them, I’m searching round, ‘Lighter, lighter,
where’s the lighter?’ but of course the damn
thing's not working. I had to traipse all the way down stairs and ask the young
man there to be a darling. I said, sweet as sugar, ‘Be a lamb for me and light
me up?’ so of course he did.
Right, so, back upstairs, I’m sat with Fifi,
my favourite wittle puppy wuppy, trying to put my make up on. I’ve got all my
powder and lipstick on, a stunning
shade of red, brings out the uh, seductress in me, you know? Anyway, just as I
go to put my eyelashes on, I realise there’s no glue left. I can’t put on my
lashes with no sticky. So that gets me thinking, this just won’t do. Well, same as I said to my little Fifi, ‘Pricilla
Courtess cannot and will not leave this
flat without a full face.’ If I want to be my best, I have to look my best,
right? See, you understand.
Anyway, after that, me and Fifi
started noticing more. There was no
vol-au-vents, no more Pall Malls, even out of all of my angel pie’s
Dog-Au-Posh-Nosh. Well, bright as a button I pushed the thought to one side. I
started drawing up some more designs, you know, living the dream? Well, designs
as good as mine just don’t draw themselves. I’d just finished this fabulous
feather boa design, ombre tones, glitter and everything, when my tummy started
to rumble, just like my little Fifi’s.
Well, I looked through all the
cupboards, you know what poured out? Dust. Dust and bills. They’re all shouting
‘Final Notice’ and ‘Last Chance to Pay’ at me. Well, I was almost tearing my
hair out, the nerve of them! It’s obvious I’m too busy with my designs; I can’t
deprive the world of fashion to pay bills.
Even Fifi was all in a ditz. So, I think to myself, I know who’s fault this is
and I ring that no good Patrick Star. Star my peachy ass. The man’s been
getting more and more useless by the
day, you know? He yacks and yacks, ‘People don’t like your designs’, ‘They’re
fifty years too late’. Damn fool can’t admit he just doesn’t know how to sell me.
So, anyway, I call him with the
usual. ‘Patrick? Oh, Patrick darling, any good news? Who wants to buy my work
today?’ And you know what he tells me? No one’s interested, that my designs aren’t being picked up. Well,
I thought he’d lost his marbles and got me all mixed up with someone else. You
know, one of his women of the night. He tells me he knows its Pricilla. The
damn cheek of it.
So, anyway, he assures me next
week’s the week, he’s got loads of
meetings lined up. I told him, I said, ‘That’s all well and good darling, but I
need cash now, I need to feed my
little angel pie, Dog-Au-Posh-Nosh doesn’t grow on trees you know.’ You won’t
believe it, but the swine tells me to go to the pawn shop and sell my pearls. You see these pearls? Got them from
my Mama. She used to tell me they’re as real as my beauty, like I needed telling. Well, I started getting
all in a fluster, I mean, I just can’t sell them, they’re as real as my beauty,
you see?
I started thinking again though; I
need more Botox, paper, that damn Dog-Au-Posh-Nosh. Before I know it, I’m stood
in this grotty little pawn shop,
clutching my Mama’s pearls, thinking of the thousands
I’ll get. Damn near broke my heart.
Now, you will not believe this. The scum in the shop had the nerve to tell me the pearls aren’t real.
He says they’re fakes. Well, I
laughed in his face and told him to fuck himself. You know my pearls are as
real as my beauty.
So, you see no Val-au-vents and no
Dog-Au-Posh-Nosh for Fifi today.
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