© Bruce Goodman 27 June 2015
Sylvia’s mother was an absolute conniving bitch. There are no other words for it. She was a manipulative scheming strumpet; a devious cold-hearted wench. I suppose you would like to know why.
Her name was Mrs Avery. I told Sylvia that her mother was a conniving, manipulative, scheming, devious, cold-hearted person, and Sylvia didn’t believe me.
I phoned Sylvia’s mother and asked for Sylvia. Her mother said that Sylvia was too busy to come to the phone and that she was trying to start a new life of her own. Sylvia’s packing, she said. She’ll be leaving today to get married to this guy down Galveston way. So don’t phone again, Hairy Legs, she said, and Sylvie, take your umbrella because it’s starting to rain. Sylvia’s about to catch the nine o’clock train.
Well, as I said, Sylvia didn’t believe me. But after that telephone conversation with Sylvia right next to me, in fact in the same bed, I put Sylvia on the phone. And Sylvia called her mother an absolute conniving bitch. There are no other words for it. She was a manipulative scheming strumpet; a devious cold-hearted wench.
So, that’s one less on the wedding invitation list.
Now let’s see. Who’s the next relative I want to get rid of? Once I’ve wiped all her relatives off the wedding list, I’ll dump Sylvia herself. I certainly wouldn’t want a mother-in-law like Mrs Avery.
She’s such an absolute conniving bitch. There are no other words for it.