Chapter Three: The MAINE Thrust


Date: Sun, Jul 7, 1996 6:19 PM EDT

From: FifiOToole

Subj: CHAPTER THREE

To: SecraTerri, Edmundkaz, Bottlenekk

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Never one to dilly dally around once she'd made up her mind, Wanda threw the dollop coated dirty dishes in the sink, whipped her daddy's old Samsonite out from under the sofa bed, dumped its contents -- 27 CDs, a plastic Christmas wreath and a small stash of hash -- on the floor of the motor home's only closet, and commenced to packing for her flight to Maine.

"HugeTony99, I'm comin, babe!" she thought as she tossed in tees, jeans and uns -- plus two of her sexiest 100 percent cotton oversized nightshirts -- with careless abandon. Then she dragged the old two-suiter over by the bathroom door to fill up the other half.

"Uh huh....mmm.....blow dryer, condoms, toothpaste," she muttered. "Anti-perspirant, dental floss, contraceptive foam.........shampoo, bobby pins, mousse, diaphragm........wonder if it's humid in Maine? Gosh. I better take the hairspray too, or my thick curly red hair will frizz up worse than Bob Dylan's," she mused, her mind only partially on the task at hand.

Foremost in Wanda's mind, of course, was a romp in the hay with HugeTony. Last night's blind date with Yawn had left her feeling more than a little cranky, and there was just something about hay that always seemed to bring Wanda an inner piece.......uh...........peace.

Shaking off her momentary reverie, Wanda dashed the three steps to the kitchen and hurriedly slammed together 131 tuna fish sandwiches -- a little snack for her pet python while she was away. Interestingly enough, the creature would have no part of whole sandwiches, so Wanda took several bites from each before placing them, one by one, in strategic locations throughout the Winnebago.

"There! At least Monty won't get too ravenous while I'm gone and put the squeeze on one of the neighbors for supper," she thought breathlessly.

Back at the closet, Wanda felt strangely bloated as she tried to button her Calvin Klein fly-button jeans. That seemed a little fishy to her -- she was certain she was not in the throes of PMS -- but nevertheless, she quickly snatched a 6-pack of Aqua Ban tablets from her nightstand and downed them in one gulp with the dregs from a near-by bottle of Perri B water which had been carefully placed there earlier by the author of this chapter.

Casting the non-returnable, clear plastic and environmentally-correct bottle aside, Wanda sat down on her bulging suitcase, bounced a few times to get the hasp to catch, checked her oversized Dooney Burke shoulder bag to make sure she had stuck in her Cappucino machine and spare can of Redi-Whipp, donned her mauve designer flight goggles, and called a cab to take her to the airport.

Wanda Pike was happily flying northeast over Meridian, Mississippi -- thinking wickedly erotic thoughts and belting out "Love's Been A Little Bit Hard On Me" at the top of her lungs -- before she remembered that she'd left the closet door ajar, her stash of hash in full sight of the first snake to spot it.

"Poor Monty," she sighed -- and flew on.

Meanwhile, back at the Videe-Go in Traiyer Town, having waited there approximately fifteen days for something cool to drink -- Frank Lee Peking lay in the aisle of the Bruce Willis section, clutching his throat and thrashing about in near fatal stages of dehydration.

Courtney Bombeck, jarred out of her rage at Nesushi's lack of insight into the real meaning of Ziggy's trouserlessness by the loud thud made when Frank Lee's 185 pounds hit the moss-green indoor-outdoor carpeting, rushed immediately to his side.

"Excuse me," she said. "You don't know me, but my name is Courtney Bombeck and I have an acute foreboding that something is greatly awry. I also have a 16-year-old illegitmate son, but I haven't had sex since he was born," she confided, anxious to appear worldly yet unjaded to the handsome stranger.

"Slu..........slu...........slu....." Frank croaked, his tongue beginning to protrude beyond his dessicated lips.

"WELL!" huffed Courtney. "LISTEN, Mister! LOTS of people have CHIYDREN out of WEDYOCK these days, and I DO NOT for one INSTANT appreciate being called a slut..........er............syut," she ranted.

She was about to turn indignantly on her heel and tell Frank Lee to "dry up" when she was startled half out of her wits by Caspar Mouse, who was standing at the end of the Bruce Willis aisle with a light bulb over his head.

"What," she gasped, "is the big IDEA?"

Unbeknownst to Courtney, Caspar had been standing there for some time, leering at her shoe-polish perfect shade of blue-black hair and big inquisitive blue eyes -- just waiting for the right moment to ask if she'd join him for some tacos, followed by an evening watching UBC Slightly News' live coverage of a bullfight in Chihuahua, Mexico.

"Pardon me, ma'am," he grinned, "but I believe what is needed here is a Coke and a smile. And it just so happens that I have both."

(Caspar had graduated with flying colors from the Snerdly School of Smooth Talkers, but Courtney neither noted nor long remembered his suave and debonair manner because by that time she had gotten close enough to him for the smell of his after-shave to kick in.)

"Oh my Stars," she sniffed. "I can't believe you are wearing Hai Karate! I have not smelled anything that sexy and beguiling since Leo Sayer and the Lettermen left town in their cardigans over16 years ago."

"Slu...........slu........." interjected Frank Lee, becoming increasingly annoyed at the growing possibility that he might actually die of thirst on the floor of a Videe-Go franchise two miles outside of Bangor.

Courtney turned around slowly and stared at Frank Lee oddly for a moment as the light bulb took flight from above Caspar's cranium and began to hover over hers.

"Oh! Courtney, you twit!" she cried as she smacked the palm of her flawlessly manicured hand upon her furrowed brow.

"He wasn't calling you a syut at all!"

"Come again?" queried Caspar pleasantly. (His adoptive mime mother was originally from Cincinnati, where they say "Come again?" when what they generally MEAN is "Would you repeat that, please?")

"QUICK!" Courtney yelped. "Run south on Magnolia Street and take a sharp right onto Third, a sharp left onto Willow, and another sharp left into the T-Town Grocers! Tell Neshushi that we simply MUST have a giant Slurpee -- PRONTO!!"

Caspar, totally astonished that his winsome smile and smooth offer of a Coke had been ignored, yet ever eager to please, paused for only a split second before rushing to the door.

"Che.......che.......che......" wheezed Frank Lee, his eyes beginning to roll back in his head.

"And make it CHERRY!" screeched Courtney as Caspar catapulted across the threshold of Videe-Go.

In all the excitement, the hum of an obviously small-engined aircraft had gone unnoticed in Traiyer Town -- but now, as Courtney lovingly applied Carmex to Frank Lee's cracked and withering lips, she heard the distinct sound of Cessna landing gear.

Ka-thunk.

She glanced out the display window through the new beta releases just in time to see a plane land in the parking lot of the Bangor "Wee Wash It" next door, barely missing the right rear tail light of her Matodor before coming to a complete stop.

"Curses," she swore silently, turning her attention once again to the task of filling the cracks in Frank Lee's lips with carnuba wax. "One more inch and I could have cleaned UP on the insurance."

Just then the door of the cockpit sprung open and an attractive wiry redhead wearing mauve flight goggles, faux leather cowboy boots and carrying the biggest Dooney Burke that Courtney had EVER seen, leaped from the wing of the plane and sprinted into the rental outlet.

Hopping from one faux leather covered foot to the other, she blurted in a heavily southern but nonetheless charming drawl

"Hey Y'all!

Mah name is Wanda Pahk

an' BOY HOWDY,

do I hafta PEE!!!!!"

........to be continued

by the illustrious

Mr. Nekk............

at his convenience

(of course).


A George Chapter! At Long Last! Now All We Need Is A PICTURE!

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