Falling in love again- ad nauseum- Part One

Ah, mes mémoires brumeuses d'aquarelle...

I met Mazeppa for the first time one rainy autumn afternoon in New Orleans when Bitsy Charbonnet (from Uptown) and I were at Bitsy's hairdresser trying new looks for her upcoming divorce party.
I was in the middle of a shriek-fest with Mr. Pierre (from Chalmette) about which cousin from "The Patty Duke Show" was more of an acceptable hair icon, when Mazeppa came tearing into the Salon soaked to the crepey skin in a vintage Patou, the decolletage of the dress weighed down with jeweled brooches exposing one pendulous breast.
As she drew nearer, noticing the one false eyelash on her cheek and a wiglet that had seen better days, my terror turned to fascination in the blink of an unlashed eye, so I seized the opportunity to cull a third opinion in regards to the argument about the hairdos of the Lane cousins, In response to my query, Mazeppa merely batted the remaining eyelash and turned to Mr. Pierre, (from Chalmette) "Cathy of course..." she snapped brusquely, "All hairdos accessorised with foreign accents are superior." From that moment on she and I would become fast friends seeing as how we clearly shared so many of the same convictions.
After I patched things up with Mr. Pierre (from Chalmette) and he patched Mazeppa back together, we left the salon for her French Quarter swankienda -to share a jeroboam or two and get to know each other- leaving Bitsy Charbonnet (from Uptown) to her own devices..

Once we arrived I settled into the sumptuous sofa while Mazeppa departed to freshen up and get the champagne. I peered around the room taking in its finery and noticed a large Victorian glass dome enclosing an odd bejeweled trumpet, just as I got up to take a closer look Mazeppa appeared with the Champagne and a sword to open it, in an entirely different outfit wearing all 62 Cartier brooches as well as a large parrot on her shoulder that wore an patch of diamante over one eye. I commented on the bird-cum-accessory to which she responded, "Oh this is Pele der Pirat... he was my late husbands favorite- both dead you know. " "Oh," I said, "taxidermied bijou, how modern."

As for the mysterious trumpet so proudly displayed in the drawing room, I discovered a little later that it was a relic from a previous career... although her titled name was Countess Philomena Dominio Hudson Usher. (Her good friends call her Phyllis, but her intimates call her Mazeppa.) Mazeppa, it seems, was her stage name before she met and married the Count. (Although I never actually had the pleasure of seeing a performance, I hear in it's day, her sylph like "Révolutions dans la danse" augmented with the now enshrined trumpet was quite the tour de force.)
Her first husband was The "NO-Account Count" Dominio, from whom she garnered little more than her title and the enormous amount of antique Cartier jewelery that at one time belonged to his deceased first wife, but it was her second husband Hippolyte Hudson that was the true love of her life.

Mr. Hudson was a third generation chicken thief when they met during her post divorce trip to New Orleans; after a whirlwind romance and marriage, it was post coitally on their honeymoon, that she had a personal epiphany and a million dollar idea as she twirled a chicken feather between her dainty sausage-like fingers.
It seems all of the chickens Hippolyte "emancipated" from their owners came from one specific place- The Oak Alley Plantation, so Mazeppa thought it would be a brilliant idea to start an egg business using only the hen eggs from the stolen chickens from said historic site. She even had a splendid brand name for the product- "Hudson's Alley-Oeufs" There was just one thing left to come up with, the marketing mascot. Pillsbury had its dough-boy, Maison Blanche Department Store had Mr. Bingle, Wendy's had the comedian Carrot Top and even Chick-fillet had the billboard painting cows with poor spelling abilities. "Think Mazeppa, think!" she said to herself over and over. Still nothing.

Another sexual encounter sparked a second thunderbolt of an idea, but this time it was during an intimate moment with Hippolyte. Mazeppa loved their "erotic lifestyle..."

Seeing how adorable Hippolyte looked on all fours in his PVC French Maids uniform singing "La vie en rose", Mazeppa envisioned the perfect mascot for Hudson's Alley-Oeufs, a singing, dancing French spokeschicken named "Marie-Clucque". Even the jingle came to her like manna from heaven- "Fresh from my butt, Right on to your plate. It's a taste that you'll ap-pre-ci-ate!"
Naturally millions followed and all was bliss until Hippolyte was killed accidentally in a cleaning mishap- it's hard to vacuum in heels you know. It was while shopping for the perfect black dress for the funeral that she met the second Count, or as she put it, "Honey, I was Ushered right down the aisle..."

Our otherwise palmy and pastoral friendship became discombobulated only once, when Mazeppa and I were at the ice rink at Rockefeller Center with Babbette her Bichon Frises/Goberian/GalgoEspanol mix doggie (I think the breed's name is "Bichon-a-Go-Go")
As we skated along, she applied a bit of pressed powder from a gold Faberge compact (decorated with rue anemones, the flowers set à jour with cabochon sapphires and diamonds, and with sapphire thumbpiece) while I fed Babbette cheese fries, not minding the greasy build up forming on my Hermes mittens, we spoke of the glorious days of her youth and how she regretted growing older to which I tisk-tisked and said she didn't look a day over 35.
O'le Zep turned toward me with a sudden twist, spattering a bit of ice on the pom-poms hanging from my Hello Kitty ice skates.
She nipped, "What do you know about getting old?" Startled, I replied that I intended to accept the inevitable fact that Time was having it's way with my visage, and besides those minuscule lines of mine were "Merely laugh lines!" to that she remarked that "Nothing was ever that funny..." where upon she handed the compact to me and instructed me to bend forward from the waist and then take a look in the mirror at what the future held for my face.
A moment after doing as I was told, I let out a scream not unlike the sound of glass scraping glass, dropping the compact, sending it skittering into the path of a rather portly fellow with powder blue skates. As he lost control wildly careening toward us, I graciously scooted out of the way so he could make a more delicate landing, unfortunately Mazeppa was in the line of fire- For a split second it was just like the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona.
After the smoke cleared and I returned from Cucina & Co. where I had gone for a light snack, (Other people's tragedies make one peckish sometimes, non ?) I realized that the carnage was far worse than I realized- They were bruised and bitter and had broken five legs-
she was holding Babbette at the time.

(By the way, did you know that there are personal injury lawyers that specialize in ice skating mishaps? Well, neither did I until I received a letter from the law offices of "Glide Glide and Sway" on behalf of their client a certain Mr. Bumburg, whom although I wasn't introduced formally, I figured was the injured party from the ice rink as it is not my habit to wreak havoc on or around ice rinks, except for that unfortunate incedent at "Holiday On Ice" but that is a different story....)
To pass the time while Mazeppa- and Babbette - were laid up with their own injuries, we indulged in various entertainments, games, Gin, (the game as well as the libation) gossiped, gave each of her 62 brooches proper names in Swahili, and toyed around with new business ideas.

Once again she came up with a doozy, A pre-recorded sex line for dogs.

"Just hear me through," she said "you could call up and for $2.99 a minute, a sexy voice could send your pooch into spasms of ecstasy!"

"Hows this..." I offered in my deepest sexbot voice,

"Yeah, you want this squeaky toy don't you?

"Ooooh... its in my mouth and its all smooth and wet!... I'm squeaking it! Yeah!"

"You like tennis balls?"

"I'm picking it up right now, its so fuzzy and hard against my shin... Mmm. it smells like rubber.... You want it? I am gonna throw it! you would like that huh? No! Sit! BAD DOG!"

"I am rolling up a news paper...."

Well dear reader, you get the idea.

Babette needed a cold compress after my performance and the nurse Mazeppa had hired sat quietly in the corner glancing nervously from side to side like a child waiting outside the Principal's office while we laughed our fool asses off.

A few months after, I was approached by Mazeppa with another million dollar idea, this time a folly formed of her convalescent musings and due to the particular accessory of choice dearest to her heart, she wanted to open a wig shop, named after herself of course- to called it "House of Usher" which I thought was catchy for a name and I especially liked her proposed ad campaign, something about how the discriminating consumer should only "Buy their falls from the House of Usher" but after a few weeks she changed her mind and decided on another business venture, a certain bel homme Brésilien named "Ferramenta Grande " who was a sort of reverse Alchemist- Instead of turning base metal into gold, He turned gold into a rather nasty freebasing habit. Alas, he was a short lived dalliance and decidedly deported.

A toast to our four legged friends and our friends on all fours!

Here is Babette's favorite cocktail...

Dogs Bollocks!

7 oz melon vodka

12 oz lager

2 dashes lime juice
In a dog dish, pour in the vodka first and then proceed to pour the beer on top.

Sing a long with Klaus!