Next Letter:
Deary Abby,
It seems I once again must ask others for help in guiding me in what to do. From what I gather, you’re likely the only one I can turn to now.
I’ve recently answered an ad in our local (Quebec) paper, seeking a governess at an estate in coastal Maine. The previous governess seems to have taken off without notice, and they are desperate for a replacement. The terms seem right, and I’ve accepted the position. Truth is, even if the terms were not right, I’d have accepted the job just to get out of here. Abby, in the past year, I’ve been through some really strange stuff.
It began when my father passed away. He was a man of considerable wealth, and named me as his sole heiress. Not yet twenty-one, the fortune is being held in trust until I come of age. My mother, as if wanting the estate for herself, put me in a reform school for troubled girls. I ran away to the Caribbean. From there, I stowed away on a small yacht, and ended up on a mysterious island estate, owned by a wealthy fellow Canadian. Feeling sorry for my plight, he insisted that I stay.
That’s when the rotten pudding really started to hit the windmill. First, a priest whom I’d been confiding in back home, tracked me down to the Caribbean island on which I was staying. His interest in me seemed more than priestly… if you know what I’m saying. Then, my mother shows up. Both of them now staying in the same house with me. Great.
Turns out, I should have stayed home. My host got possessed by one of his evil ancestors. Oh… I should mention that prior to that, he’d made arrangements to resurrect his recently deceased wife, whom he was keeping in the basement, frozen like a popsicle. Anyway, he does all sorts of strange, split-personality stuff, and… Oh, I forgot to mention his servants: a nice, but odd sorceress; and a… wait for it… a zombie. It’s true, Abby I’m not lyin’! He’s okay; he’s actually saved my life a few times, but he is the living dead no less.
Then it happened. My host’s wife does come back... Only, as in a horror novel, it’s not really her. She turns out to be a monstrously evil, homicidal “B”, literally from hell itself. Everyone on the island, with the exception of myself, my host, and his two servants, were killed. The house burned to the ground, and we fled to my host’s family estate in Quebec. I should note that my mother did turn out to have my best interests in mind after all; and, in fact, she bravely forfeited her own life to save me.
All seemed well back in Canada, until my host again fell under a possession/curse, and started killing young women whenever a certain evil star would appear. Then, a local group of people… Okay, a coven… tried to get me to sell my soul to Satan. One of these idiots was my host’s own brother in law, who was attempting to use me to take over the family fortune. He was then going to use the fortune to further the coven’s goals. Then there was a young historian who came to stay, and got possessed by some snake cult creature thingy, and yadi, yadi, yadi… here we are.
Abby, I’ve been assured that, despite the previous governess’s sudden disappearance, nothing out of the ordinary ever happens in the sleepy little fishing village to which I am going. Does this sound like a good choice for me after all I’ve been through?
Signed,
Going To A Spook-Free Zone
PS,
As I was boarding my train, a man who somehow knew my name, asked me to deliver a package to someone named Desmond in the town where I’m going to. It’s a cube-shaped sort of thing, with a handle on top and a black cloth tightly wrapped around it. Feels like maybe a glass case of some sort under the cloth. Weighs about fifteen pounds. I’m sure it’s just some practical joke of some sort on this Desmond, whoever he may be. Hilariously, the old woman seated across the aisle from me, keeps staring at the package and crossing herself. Funny.
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DoctorJuliaHoffman
11 years ago
Dear Going To A Spook-Free Zone,
Gal, you've got problems. I'd gotten a letter from another "governess" named Victoria Winters, a while back, and believe me, her problems were nothing compared to yours. (She had just left a foundling home. While you...geesh!)
After all you've been through, you'd better leave your fate to fortune tellers and daily horoscopes. (If you can find Robert "Ryan's Hope" Costello or Colin (white beard) Fox(y), you should ask their advice.)
If you happen to come across Jacques Eloi Des Monde, in your travels, please tell him that Abby is through with Buzz Hackett and Joe Haskell, and is ready for love. (And, that I've been thinking about him for years!)
Best, gal
Abby
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WinstonNephron
11 years ago
Next Letter:
Deary Abby,
I’ve always had the greatest respect for what you do, and trust that you could be of some assistance to me.
Until about four years ago, I was the local Sheriff for a coastal community in Maine. In my time there I dealt with many of the same mundane situations as any law enforcement official in such a setting – car accidents, intoxicated individuals, petty thefts and such. However, there were also some serious and very strange incidents as well – murders, kidnappings, disappearances, extortion and assaults-by-unidentified-creatures. Needing a change of scenery, and wanting to just get away to somewhere that didn’t seem as if it belonged in a Hammer film, I moved to the desert southwest and accepted a position as Sheriff for a remote community. Finally, it seemed I’d managed to find someplace more normal.
Everything was alright until recently. Yesterday afternoon, I was called to the local roadside diner in response to a call from a frantic traveler who claimed that her husband is missing. She told me that she and her husband, Lars, were just traveling through and stopped for lunch. She stated that while she waited at their table, Lars went to use the restroom. He never came out. The people at the diner say they’d never seen Lars.
Now, Abby, in and of itself, this story may not seem like much… But, this is like the seventh or eighth time this has occurred in recent months. All of these disappearances have occurred at the same diner, in the same manner. I’ve done some checking, and although the other two tenants in this woman’s triplex in Minneapolis (let’s just call them “Mary” and “Rhoda”), report that she is prone to exaggeration and hypersensitivity, I do believe her. Strange thing is, they’ve never seen Lars either. Still, she is not the first one to report such a disappearance here, so, it still rings true.
I’ve heard of cases where travelers are abducted and robbed, possibly murdered by locals, and the disappearances unsolved. I just hope this isn’t like that one weird case back in Maine where a local girl was abducted right out of her hospital room by a local handyman. Fortunately, his employer was of great assistance in recovering her and bringing the offender to justice. Turns out, the offender was mentally ill, and has now recovered to become an upstanding citizen.
Abby, should I start looking to supernatural causes here, or is this more likely a robbery scheme, involving the people who run the diner?
Signed,
Searching For a Clue
PS,
Any idea where one can get a good lobster dinner in the desert?
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DoctorJuliaHoffman
11 years ago
Dear Searching For a Clue,
Thank you for your respect in what I do. Now, regarding the woman's missing husband, you can consol her by telling her "Phyllis, it sure isn't you!" That should hold her over until her hubby is found.
There are nice places to have seafood near your area. If you're in Arizona, try any of the US Mariscos Chihuahua restaurants. Or, the Bluefin Seafood Bistro which is also in Arizona. Bon appétit!
Best,
Abby
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WinstonNephron
11 years ago
Next Letter:
Deary Abby,
You’ll just have to forgive me for not beginning this letter with the insipid, congratulatory platitudes that is customary for so many of your other readers. I’m above all that… in fact, I’m above a lot of things in this world. I find it unnecessary to idolize others, not even a God. As I’ve stated many times before: I have but one God… Me. Even a superior entity must sometimes utilize others. Today, I choose to utilize you, Abby. You will help me, I’m sure.
Though presently residing in somewhat less than four-star accommodations along the rocky coast of Maine, I’ve travelled the world extensively… and, expensively. Originally from Eastern Europe, I am much older than anyone might suspect, and have seen more history than most will ever read about in some books. My problem is this: I’ve lost something of great value to me, and you’re going to help me get it back. You want to do this; do not insult either one of us by pretending that you do not. There, now that I’ve allowed you to convince me to let you assist me, let us move on to the task at hand.
Many years ago, I was the proud owner of a mythical creature. Not just any mythical creature, but, the very last of his kind. Some, my Problem Resolution Specialist (who previously wrote to you) included, say that I myself killed this magnificent creature whilst suffering a fit of lycanthropy. Preposterous! A lie… probably concocted by some good-for-nothing gypsy! I know my pet is still alive. I know it! He may not be as Young and Restless as he used to be, but he’s alive. What is this creature, you ask? He’s a moose. No, not just any ordinary moose… He’s a moose with feathers. I know he wants to come home to the place of Dark and Shadows, and I’d welcome him with open arms. Uh… em, well… one and one-half open arm arms as it were. Some years ago, those gypsies cut off my hand. I’ll get that back too. My PRS and I have tracked it down to this New England locale. Anyway, just assist me in whatever way you can.
Signed,
The Wiz
PS,
In appreciation for your efforts, if you ever want to have your portrait painted, let me know. I’ve got an associate who’ll do a real nice one for you, free of excessive charge.
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DoctorJuliaHoffman
11 years ago
Dear The Wiz,
Brother, have you got problems! Did you ever think of relocating to Oz? You are "The Beast with Five Fingers" with just too much drama! I've seen the Marx Brothers film "Horse Feathers", but I have a feeling the solution to your moosefeathers problem is not to be found in that film.
If you happen to know a flying squirrel named Rocky, you can ask him to search high and low for your fine-feathered friend. If not, here's something to remember... moose are herbivores creatures. You live in New England where it rains a lot and there is much greenery. Make sure your yard has an abundance of greenery. I sincerely hope your Bullwinkle will be making an appearance chez vous in a very short amount of time.
Best,
Abby
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WinstonNephron
11 years ago
Next Letter:
Deary Abby,
This whole town’s got a big problem, and you’re the only one who can help us. A few months ago (though it seems like an eternity), my cousin (you’ve previously heard about him… the one in the cape), decided to bring another previously unheard of relative onto our estate. He claims that this person is yet another of our cousins. I didn’t mind so much letting the first cousin stay in the run-down old house on the other side of the estate, but now we’ve got more characters around here than a Dostoyevsky novel. Sure, I drink from morning till night, but I do nonetheless notice things.
So anyway, this new “cousin” is one strange ranger. He doesn’t wear a cape, but instead wears a sweater. In fact, he never wears anything but that damn sweater. He’s got more scars on his face than a gangster… If he’s not careful, he’ll end up looking old, scary and bitchy like Joan Rivers. Anyhow, he also has the intellect and social skills of a small child whose been raised by baboons. He nearly pulled both arms off of one of the servants over a piece of KFC. Furthermore, he sits around listening to a taped recording of a doctor who used to work in the emergency department of our local hospital. That wouldn’t be such a bad thing if it weren’t for the fact that this doctor had a way of speaking that would wreak havoc with anyone’s nervous system, even if they were drunk at the time (believe me, I know).
Oh, and Abby, it gets worse. Now, he’s got a girlfriend… If one could call her that. What an annoying shrew! Wherever she goes, as soon as she enters the scene, people moan and get up and leave. She’s absolutely insufferable. What can we do about these two? It’s as though time has stood still in our little town, and we just keep reliving the same moments over and over with these two creatures. Please help us make this torture stop.
Signed,
Desperate Eighty Proof Blue Blood
PS,
Know of any way to get rid of the purple giraffe that’s following me everywhere I go for the past two days?
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DoctorJuliaHoffman
11 years ago
Dear Desperate Eighty Proof Blue Blood,
Oh, dear! It sounds like your new "cousin" is a bit homicidal like Raskolnikov, but his girlfriend is not exactly docile like Sonia. How mismated they must be!
If Porfiry Petrovich doesn't live in your town, I suggest you find a local sheriff (one who's sometimes out of paper cups will do) and have him get rid of these two losers.
A good way to try getting rid of that annoying purple giraffe might be by importing a green paisley llama and seeing if there's a lovematch between the two. If so, the giraffe should leave you and move on to bigger and better things.
Best,
Abby
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WinstonNephron
11 years ago
Next Letter:
Deary Abby,
Once more, our fabulously wealthy, but really f’d up family must seek your wise advise. My mother, who in her last letter to you inadvertently revealed her ongoing struggle to consume less alcohol than some small Central American countries, has yet again checked into Trembling Acres for a rest. That’s fine… The problem is that we don’t know how we’re going to break the news to her about what’s been going on around here in her absence.
As I’d previously written to you some time ago, a friend of mine had come to visit me, been smitten with my would-be boyfriend, and then quite literally went to pieces. (By-the-way, thanks for the advice about the stick-ups. They worked just swell). Well, anyway, the guy she was so attracted to still resides in our guest cottage. Recently, our housekeeper went over to the cottage to do some cleaning up, and accidently made a remarkable discovery. In the bedroom closet there were these large, colorful mushrooms growing. They emitted a strange, pulsating glow… And, appeared to possess telepathic powers. Our guest in the cottage, the young man, has since revealed to us that the mushrooms communicated to him that they were from the thirteenth dimension and intended to take over our universe. They had sworn him to secrecy. Our housekeeper, apparently immune to their influence, mistook them for exotic portabellas, picked them, and took them back to the main house.
Once back at our house, she then proceeded to sauté them, and then feed them to my Uncle and younger cousin. In the two days since, my cousin, possibly due to his numerous previous acid trips following intrusions into my underwear drawer, appears to have incurred no affect from consuming the dangerous, but reportedly delicious fungi. My Uncle, on the other hand, is a very different matter.
Almost immediately after eating his lunch, my Uncle ran out of the house and disappeared. Later that night, the local Sheriff called and asked me to come to the public library. Once there, I received quite a shock. There was my Uncle, naked, on top of the card catalog cabinets, doing his Peter Allen impersonation. He sang “I Go to Rio” repeatedly, refusing to stop unless the poor librarian agreed to file him under “Fun Guy”. The librarian, a strict adherent of proper categorical format, refused to do as he wished as matter of principle. A compromise was finally reached when it was agreed that the police sketch artist would do a rendering of my Uncle’s likeness, and that sketch would be filed under “Fungi”. My Uncle ended his performance, and peacefully went with the Sheriff for a relaxing stay in a hospital up the coast.
Now then, Abby, what do we tell my mother?
Signed,
Trippin’
PS,
Of course, you won’t mention to my mother where my cousin had obtained his means to travel.
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DoctorJuliaHoffman
11 years ago
Dear Trippin',
First of all, the thought of your uncle singing naked at the library is too funny for words. Especially if he's the blond, finicky, snide type. I would love to visit your town's library and have a look-see at its Fungi file.
Now then, tell mom nothing. She's got problems of her own to deal with. If she asks to have him come see her, tell her he's much too busy at the moment. Then quickly change the subject by asking her if she believes in voodoo.
If mom comes home before your uncle, you can break the news to her about your uncle's "stay". Don't tell her about the Fungi file. If she hears about it through townies, advise her against seeing her sibling doing his au naturel act.
Best,
Abby
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WinstonNephron
11 years ago
Next Letter:
Deary Abby,
This is a follow-up to my previous letter to you. I must say, unlike some creatures in my employ, you do get results. I asked you to help find and return my long-lost feathered moose, and you really came through. He’s returned to us, safe and sound.
Abby, my offer still stands if you’d like to have your portrait painted (a $400 value), I’ve got a talented artist who does contract jobs for me from time to time. I’ll see if he can fit you in.
Signed,
The Wiz
PS,
As soon as your check in the amount of $395.99 arrives and clears, I’ll call on my artist friend to set something up for you. I don’t do this for just anyone, you know. Never let it be said that I don’t know how to take care of those who help me.
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DoctorJuliaHoffman
11 years ago
Dear The Wiz,
I'm glad your fine-feathered moose has returned to you. I guess if I had a Bullwinkle with feathers, I'd want him back too. I wonder if your moose had been shacking up with Boris and Natasha for awhile. Oh well...
I will be wanting a painting of myself done soon. But I must be painted in the altogether. I've been meaning to have it done to be saved for posterity. The check is in the mail. Rest easy, this gal's checks don't bounce!
Best,
Abby
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WinstonNephron
11 years ago
Next Letter:
Deary Abby,
First, permit me to congratulate you on your many years of service to the readers of newspapers from coast-to-coast. Though I’ve been in this country for only a few years, I’ve certainly come to appreciate your fine advice column, and look forward with considerable anticipation to reading it each evening. I wish you continued success for many years to come.
Several of the letters you’ve responded to in the past year or so, have been from citizens of the local community in which I now reside; in fact, some from members of my own extended family. Further, I myself, have been somewhat mentioned in more than a few of these letters. I am the cousin in the cape.
While the mentioning of myself by these individuals has been, for the most part, positive, the attention has been a bit unnerving, as I try not to call attention to myself, and prefer my privacy. I’m sure you understand. Okay, so I wear a cape. Alright, so I’m never around during the daytime. So, who doesn’t have a locked steel door leading to their basement, located in their living room? Who needs electricity when one can just light hundreds of candles instead? Is any of this really so bad?
Abby, I understand some people are put off by eccentricity, I’m okay with that. What I am not okay with, and thus far, it hasn’t occurred in your readers’ letters, is the misspelling of my name. It’s not a difficult name. It ends in “as”. The problem is, some people around here insist on spelling it with “us” at the end. Big deal? Well, several months ago, the town wanted to honor me for my tireless assistance in recovering a young woman who’d mysteriously disappeared. They commissioned a small statue with my name inscribed at the base. Apparently, this was ordered over the phone, and the sculptor misunderstood what was intended. He also was given the wrong spelling of my name, which may have further contributed to the erroneousness of the finished product. The townspeople didn’t bother to look at the statue until the unveiling, so were unaware of the errors until it was too late.
Imagine my shock and embarrassment, Abby, when the sheet was pulled off, and there was my name, misspelled “……us”. Worse, the sculptor, going by the name he heard over the phone, assumed that this was to be a statue of a clown car. Only my cousin, who single handedly consumes more alcohol on an annual basis than many cities within a three hundred mile radius, thought it to be funny. I was so embarrassed, I just wanted to disappear. Actually, that’s what further compounds the problem: I did actually disappear. Couldn’t help it; I panicked. Now, people are becoming suspicious. My servant tells me that there’s even been mention of the “V” word. My sources tell me that there’s been a 327 percent increase in the purchase of tent stakes in the local stores within the past two weeks. I’m worried.
Abby, what should I do? I’m usually pretty good at making up stuff to explain away these things, but this time I might really be in trouble. If only there were some other place I could go until things settled down a bit. Hanging upside down from the attic rafters isn't going to fix this one.
Signed,
The Real Caped Crusader
PS,
My other cousin, recently arrived from Europe, refuses to wear anything other than his favorite green sweater. He won’t even try to wear anything else. What to do.
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DoctorJuliaHoffman
11 years ago
Dear The Real Caped Crusader,
Regarding all those candles... You seem to be the romantic and passionate type. I'm sure all that ambiance ultimately helps in keeping you feeling fit as a fiddle. I'll bet you like giving gals hickies just for starters. The women in your life probably fall completely under your hypnotic spell. You Rudolph Valentino, you!
If it is a statue of the most distasteful of the Urban Dictionary's definitions of "clown car", I don't blame you for being mortified and disappearing. You should disavow the statue at once and never speak to your insensitive cousin again. He seems like a real louse and you definitely need to lose him.
Don't worry about those suspicious people. Tell them you were once a magician and you'd decided to give them your self-vanishing trick to liven things up for the unveiling of the statue. The increase in purchases of tent stakes is normal since it's August. But if the "V" word continues into Winter...leave town!
The problem of your cousin's green sweater is easily solved. Accidentally on purpose, get his sweater snagged on an object and, without him knowing, let him walk about the house while his sweater unravels. Pre-purchase him some vintage Ohrbach's men's clothes on eBay and things should be peachy-keen.
Best,
Abby
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WinstonNephron
10 years ago
Let's continue this in a new thread. My understanding is that those using phones can see only a few dozen posts of a thread.
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WinstonNephron
10 years ago
Um, no... But, wow, do I ever wish there was still such a thing as "Nick At Nite." Their late 1980's and early 1990's lineup was to die for.
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DoctorJuliaHoffman
10 years ago
And what a lineup it was! Nick had "The Donna Reed Show", "The Patty Duke Show", "Bewitched", "Mister Ed", "Car 54, Where Are You?", "Make Room For Daddy", "Laugh-In". And, let's not forget Nick at Nite's very own "Milkman" commercials.
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WinstonNephron
10 years ago
One of the best episodes of any sitcom I've ever seen was one of Car 54, Where Are You? The Captain was ordered to take a vacation, having not taken one in years. He didn't want the men to see him leave, so left out the back door. To them, he'd "disappeared," despite being told he's on vacation. In order to cover for him, the Chief has no choice but to send in a Captain from the Lost and Found Division, who was so meek and mild, that he hadn't been entrusted with an actual command in many years. The men completely misinterpret the department rumors about the Captain's replacement, that by the time he arrives, he's said to be a former Nazi General who keeps man-eating piranhas in his office to eliminate underlings. In truth, the guy is a total cream puff. The unintended result is that all of the men start actually doing their jobs to the highest of efficiency. As soon as the Captain returns from vacation, they revert to themselves within minutes. Brilliant episode.
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DoctorJuliaHoffman
10 years ago
That episode is called "The Beast Who Walked the Bronx". Very brilliant, indeed! I miss Dixie, the Nick at Nite Pixie. I'll never forget her singing in those Nick at Nite commercials.
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DoctorJuliaHoffman
10 years ago
Thank you so much for posting, Winston. I hadn't seen it in years! "The Fregosi Emerald" is my favorite episode of "The Munsters", too. I also love the one where Grandpa direct fires a nuthin' muffin into Herman's mouth ("Will Success Spoil Herman Munster?").
There is a wonderful collection called "Classic Nick at Nite Commercials" on YouTube. Its running time is 17:38. "The Patty Duke Show" commercial at 0:30 is very memorable and too cute for words. I wish they would bring back Nick at Nite as it used to be.
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WinstonNephron
10 years ago
I wish they would bring back Nick at Nite as it used to be.
Same here; but, they won't for as long as their current viewer base is stupid enough to continuously tune in for like eleven consecutive episodes of the same crap '90s show they've already seen five hundred times, apparently without questioning any of it. And Nickelodeon is by no means the only one. Most of the cable networks have completely abandoned their original formats and are now showing mostly over-repetitive garbage.
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DoctorJuliaHoffman
10 years ago
Yeah, really, Winston. These days, Nick is reduced to multiple showings of "Full House", "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" and "Friends". Wow, what a lineup! (NOT!)
In the old days, Nick gave us diversity and shows we hadn't seen in ages. The heck with the newish junk Nick shows now. The oldies were so much better!
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