Dear Mister Ed

Theres somethink been eatin’ my brain pan fer the past cuppla weeks I gotta tell you about, Darrol.

Its that dang Maisy, the one that stood up fer Eva whilst I propped up Unkle Walt at the weddin’.

You mind me sayin’ I dont recall much of the boat ride down here to the U,S, and A? Well theres one recollecskun I cant shake from the last nite aboard, afore we warshed up in Loss Angeliss.

Yers truly had been out on deck, decorattin’ the waves with the after math of the sammon fumay we had fer dinner.

I come into the parler all wobbly and green at the gills like a fine pea soup and theres Maisy, three sheets to the four winds, heavin’ into site like the reck of the Hessperus.

Now this here is one formydabble womman. She must be close on six foot tall in her stalkin’ feet, with a big mess of oringe hair that wud put I Love Loosey to shame.

And let me tell you, she aint backwords about comin’ forewords.

Afore I can even say “howdy” shes got me backed up into the big mahoggany bar, with ‘er arms slung round my neck, eyeballin’ me like shes fixin’ to steal my sole.

She takes a big swaller of somethink clear and deadly and leans in even closer. When she finely speaks it puts me in mind of May West, or that swanky gal that was marryed to Humfry Bogart.

“Y’know Rodney” she says “from the first time I layed eyes on you, you reminded me of some body else”.

Bein’ as we was so close onto Beverlys Hills, I’m thinkin’ maybe Clarke Gayble or even Garry Cooper.

“Way I see it” she says “yer the spittin’ image of my next husband”.

I need hardly tell you I extercated myself outta there like a scalded cat and spent the hole nite thrashin’ about, tryin’ to figger what to do next.

Come breckfist time, thank hevvin, she acted like nothin’ ever happened, so I jest rote it off like a bad dream.

But then the sun hit the yard arm and Maisy hit the ice cubes. Next I know shes onto me again like a dose of shingles.

Its been the same evry day since, least when theres nobody else about. But I dass’nt say anythink to Eva on accounta them bein’ best pals.

Whats worst is that the other gests flew home after the weddin’, so I and Maisy are alone in the condominumum here in Loss Vegas till the honey mooners get back from Hawayii.

Theres some heavy chairs I can push up to the door fer when the old gal is in ‘er cups and feelin’ frisky, so I may survive the week intackt. If not, I’ll let you know.

By the way Darrol, I seen you on TV in that Coka-Cola advertizement they made with the Mountys in White Horse. Any chance of the Olympick torch comin’ thru?

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