Sunday, June 04, 2006

Meet Mary Theresa



A guest post by Carol.

Hello dearies. Just a sec – let me check and make sure they’re really gone. [sounds of doors slamming and general looking noises]

Phew. Jesus be praised, they’re off on their little trip to Sodom and Gomorrah, or whatever heathen place it is they’re going. It’s a shame that Franklin can’t meet a nice girl. Sure as God made little green apples, the right girl and he’d give up that sinful lifestyle of his. (I bet the right girl could convince him to give up that hoo-doo he calls a religion, too – what is it? hari krishnas or something? -- and accept the Lord Jesus Christ as his own personal Saviour.) Anyhoo…

I’m Mary Theresa. Nice to meetcha. Maybe you guessed this, tee-hee, most say there is a resemblance, but I’m Dolores’s sister. Big sister, in fact. I was born the litter before she was. And oh my, what a difference a litter makes!

You see, I’ve been listening to Dolly natter on – oooh, didn’t she tell you that was my nickname for her? – for a little while now. She’s a panic, isn’t she? If I wasn’t so worried about the state of her soul, I’d get quite a kick out of her. It’s a little hard getting used to the smell of those Lucky Strikes, but my late husband – God rest his soul – smoked, too, and you get used to all kind of smells on the farm.

Yep, I’ve known Dolly her whole life. Born and bred on Twelve Willows Farm, both of us, a few too many years ago, tee-hee. (And if Dolly tells you she’s a day less than fifty, don’t believe her! tee-hee)

Really, dearies, the details of Dolly’s life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? Our father was a relentlessly self-improving Rambouillet from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery (he was always wont to help out a lonely sheep farmer). Our mother was a fifteen year old French Romney named Chloe with webbed feet. Our father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. Our childhood was typical. Summers in Putney, luge lessons. But you don’t need to hear all that, do you? You don’t really believe that someone’s childhood can warp their whole outlook, and my Lord, look at me! Why, I’m as healthy an ovine specimen as you’ll ever meet, praise Jesus!

Well, I’m off now. Only in town for a few days to visit a cousin or two. I just wanted you to know that Dolly comes from a nice family, with good Christian siblings that don’t go for that drinking, and whoring, and using the eff word. Tsk, tsk. I knew no good would come of her listening to our father’s ridiculous stories behind the pig pen when she was supposed to be in church, worshiping our Lord. And I know most of you girls who read this blog are nice ladies who knit and just love Franklin’s drawings of those cutie-pie animals (my sister excluded) but really don’t care for the, well, let’s call it “potty-mouth that passes for humor.” I mean, my Lord, who wants to read about cock-rings, and men marrying dogs, and those other perversions that go in the big city?! [fanning furiously] Just stick to the knitting, and nice stories about your sister and her ruan—whatever that shawl-thingy is, and a few more doggie drawings wouldn’t hurt. But where was I now?

Good-bye, and God bless you!

P.S. And don’t think that Dolly is the only one who can cable a mean gansey. You didn’t think that Scottish girlie who likes to sue people thunk up all those fair isles by Herself, did you? [Wink.]

21 comments:

Pixiepurls said...

haha, I am SUCH a knitting geek because I know what scotish women u speak of!

Jenn said...

Excellent use of Austin Powers by Ms. Mary Theresa!

Joe said...

When Franklin said there would be guest bloggers, no one realized we'd have such a fine upstanding guest as yourself.

Do you have an lambs yourself?

A good God-fearing ewe like yourself, with a cigarette-smoking ram for a DH must have a whole passel of offspring.

Anonymous said...

The good character development was interrupted by the "[fanning furiously]" part.

Sorry, once an English major... but it is intended strictly as constructive criticism.

LaurieM

Anne said...

I almost inhaled my oreo when she brought up cock-rings. Good lord.

dragon knitter said...

holy cow! (or should that be holy sheep?). well, well, i wonder if dolores's infulence is . . . SATAN?!?!? (where's dana carvey when you need him?)

Meg said...

Lordy Moses!

Gail said...

Cock Rings? You mean Franklin is going to marry a chicken? Or is it a rooster? Why would have have a ring for a cock? I'm so confused. I need to get back to my fun fur scarves - I'm knitting one for each of my 12 bridesmaids.

Taphophile said...

Just goes to show, you can't choose your relatives. Poor Dolores.

All the Way With Knitting said...

O.M.G when I see sheep ( errr people) like ewe coming up the street I'm suddenly out . Morons , whoops Mormons ,easy to spot because they look like 1950's Americans and 7th Day adventists go about in pairs of one Black one White person ( so do We ) but...we don't carry a hulking great Bible and briefcases so slamming the shutters is easy ....and "Praise the Lard for spy-holes"

Anonymous said...

Uh, not to pick nits, but I don't think sheep *have* "litters"....

David said...

Pass me the hatchet, I suddenly have a craving for rack of lamb.

Michele said...

In the spring, we'd make meat helmets.

Heather Layne said...

Don't you just love how anyone who criticizes stays anonymous?

Nice to meet you, Mary Theresa, and enjoy the rest of your journey.

Ellen in Conn said...

It never rains but it pours?

You can pick your nose and you can pick your friends . . . ?

Bigots, unite?

What is the cliche I am looking for?

Isela: Purling Sprite said...

hehehe, my, oh my, I better watch out what I write now, I don't want Mary Theresa to be offended by my lack of manners...we want her to come back and try to get us back to the right side of the fence

All the Way With Knitting said...

Heather..completly puzzled by anyone using "anonymous"...what's the point of having an opinion if no-one knows it's yours is just one reason.I think anything Dolores Mum had could go under the heading of "litter" .No sorry Dolly ( may we call you that ?) you know we love you sadly your sister reminds me of the well bonkers ultra-right lobbyists we have a documentary about sometime this week .Republican ones that is not Tories ,although we already know they are all bonkers.

Aidan said...

You aren't nearly as pretty as your sister.

Mhairi said...

I like the comment on the ganseys!! (By the way, I AM Mary Theresa, and my sister is Dolores, what can I say)
The British chappie will be sidlng up to the married men - forbidden fruit is more tempting! Besides he's probably seen the picture of C and knows he's on a hiding to nothing (No chance).
Sounds like Fab hol - enjoy the rest.

Longhorn Diva said...

Oh! My! GAWD!!! *gasp* Lying. on. floor. Hurting. Oh my sides! Too effing funny!!!

Cockrings and Jesus??? (oh it hurts) Girls, you *are* going to hell!

(snort)

Joanna said...

Love that "potty-mouth that passes for humor.” Bring on more. Hope you are loving your vacation!