Saturday, September 3, 2011



In the sleepy town of Meryton, a suburb of the great throbbing metropolis that is known as London, live several families. 

This is their story.

The home of Anne and Captain Frederick Wentworth

Captain Frederick Wentworth:  Anne, my sweetling, my cherub - I am returned.  Your vagabond sailor is home from the seas – ready to be welcomed in suitable fashion – Anne – precious – where are you?  I've brought home more money my pet, so many ships out there requesting the honor of my sinking them. That favorable review in the Guardian is reaping rewards.  You know now they just throw the money at us and sink themselves, saves us so much time. 

Anne Wentworth:  Upstairs Frederick, in the attic.  Could you bring that string of garlic up with you?  And the silver cross on the hall table also.  That’s a good fellow.

Frederick Wentworth:  What is the meaning of this, my angel?  I thought we agreed after the last dust up that you would – kiss my cheek pet – thank you – that you would put away all this stuff and nonsense once and fall all. 

Anne Wentworth:  Well, dearest, the oddest thing has happened.  Caroline Bingley has returned.  Yes, can you believe it?  There’s a bad penny if ever I slaughtered one.

Frederick Wentworth:  Oh, I say.  I thought you ripped her heart out and slashed the tires of her Mercedes.  Did you not disembowel her also?  We had stains everywhere.

Anne Wentworth:  This stake has seen much better days, hasn’t it?  Yes, Frederick, you are absolutely correct as always my precious amore, my studly love muffin.  I did indeed disembowel, decapitate, rip out and burn her heart, yada yada yada.  She must have Lithuanian blood in her somewhere, you know.  Evidently, not only has she returned, she has developed a tendre for George Wickham, of all the nasty assed people, and has returned to Meryton.  And, as you remember, she did not leave Meryton on the highest of notes, shall we say, chewing the foot from Reverend Collins like that.  And it was his Sermon Foot also.   I should think she returns here only to wreak her vengeance and obtain a truly good clam sauce.   Do you like my dress?

Frederick Wentworth:  Smashing, as always my dear, but then I so love you in gray with grey trim.  Well, this is a disappointment; I was rather looking forward to tossing your skirts up for about twenty four hours and then having a good lie down for a spell before returning to my ship.  We’re only in for weekend you know, and weekend’s haven’t even been invented as of yet.  Well, I suppose that’s what comes from marrying ...

Anne Elliot, Vampire Slayer

and all.  Business, business, business.  It’s such a grind.  And here I've already put on my gladiator costume.  I thought we'd play Caligula and the Naughty Horse Senator.

Anne Wentworth:  Oh Frederick, that is rather a short visit.  I don’t believe Caroline can do much damage in a weekend, since there is no such thing until the Victorian era.  Let’s have a bit of slap and tickle, shall we?”

Frederick Wentworth:  There’s my good egg.

Meanwhile….Meryton Hospital is abuzz with the new and vastly improved Dr. George Wickham, Gynecologist – in – training.


LucyParker said...

Argh, my browser cookies were disabled and I couldn't get to you quickly enough! You see, your blog is on my desktop, in tile format, so when that man's face disappeared from between those knees I knew you had something new waiting for me.

What heaven! My dreamboat, Capt. Wentworth, and my heartthrob...Wickham?? Vastly improved, indeed, especially in his new Polo motorcycle ads! *thud* You saved the best photo for last. This is the grandest blog ever, by anyone, in the whole universe.

I never noticed that Anne wore so much grey. But, really, who cares about her?

Karen Wasylowski said...

I thought of you my dear when I posted that picture. Now that Anne is "preoccupied" with Wentworth the deadly duo of Bingley and Wickham (sounds like an ad firm) are off to drink blood. Bleh-hahhahahaha