My Library

"My DEAR, you shouldn’t have bothered. I only eat my own food. I’ve brought a thermos of SOUP with me." "WHAT!" Lucille screamed. "You’re NOT eating MY food?" I opened the wine and poured myself a large glass. The cat fight went on -- and then went on some more. I was VERY shaken. I guzzled the whole glass -- and poured me another. I tried politely interrupting. Neither paid me any attention. So, my brain in a red haze with blue spots in it, I grasped for WHAT TO DO -- and then without knowing what to do I stood up and SAID: "WHAT THE FUCK is going on HERE???" Both SHUT UP like obedient daughters. SHE ate her SOUP. Lucille and I ate the sole almondine and fresh strawberries. We chatted as nothing had happened. I got quite tipsy, as did Lucille. We "dished" the American Society for Psychical Research, we dished everyone and everything -- and SHE finally decided to have a glass of wine. SHE got tipsy -- and HER famous red lipstick got EVERYWHERE, on napkins, the table cloth, on the glasses -- and, somehow, on my SHIRT. THEN -- Lucille brought out the champagne. We toasted the future of psychic research. I laughed. Lucille went into her tiny kitchen to putter. SHE and I stepped out on the small balcony overlooking Central Park. We necked. It was ALL SO NATURAL AND WORDLESS. Red LIPSTICK now EVERYWHERE. I felt like I had stepped into OZ. Lucille gave me money for the next TAXI.