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Wilma & Betty (a short). Episode I
The Further Adventures of Wilma & Betty
Episode I: Start the Revolution
It started one day because Wilma just got fed up with cleaning up Dino’s dino droppings that were always springing up on Fred’s favorite Saber-toothed rug. And when she wasn’t trying to get that smell out of the rug she was cleaning up whatever mess Pebbles and Bam-Bam had managed to make. Jesus Christ, that damned Bam-Bam was always breaking the bamboo dishes or the granite coffee mugs or putting cracks on the marble coffee table that Fred bought with his Christmas bonus.
“Dammit Betty, can’t you keep that kid of yours home sometimes? Let him bam-bam and break up your fine China set hand made and imported from the Yangtze Rock delta.”
“Don’t talk to me, Wilma. My house is already broken up. I can’t do a damned thing about that boy. Barney’s got him spoiled rotten. He thinks Bam-Bam’s gonna be some big time Slateball star and make it to the major leagues the way he never did. Damned men, always trying to cling to some glory they never even had.”
“Tell me about it. It’s the same thing with Fred. ‘I coulda’ been a football star! I coulda been a football star.’ Yeah, and I coulda been married to Brad Pittstone but it just didn’t work out that way. I coulda been a lot of things if I’d been given half a chance and a set of stones between my legs, but you don’t see me clinging to that, do you? Do you hear me whining?”
“So, Wilma, what’s the solution?”
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Wilma & Betty: Episode X
Here’s the full story read on Saturday, Jan 30th at Jengo’s Playhouse at the latest installment of The Cure for the Common Reading. I’ll leave it here for about a week, then probably take it down. I may or may not try to actually send it out somewhere!
Hope you all enjoy!
-JM
The Further Adventures of Wilma & Betty:
Episode X: How It Does or Does Not End
(Dedicated to Bill Shipman)
It was 4:59 on a Friday afternoon and outside the 1st National Bank of Bedrock the sky was gray. A steady, dreary rain was falling. The two women just did make it through the front door of the bank as the clock struck 5 pm. The security guard pulled the door shut behind them and closed the lock home.
He was a young, broad-shouldered boy. Reminiscent of a young Dennis Quaidstone.
To be sure, he was handsome. A handsome boy that might someday ripen into a handsome man—if his life was long enough and hard enough and he made just enough bad decisions.
“You ladies got lucky,” the young guard said, smiling a perfect smile.
Betty grinned, looking both guilty and disingenuous.
Wilma sighed. “Yes,” she said. “We did get lucky.” She smiled an apology.
Then she pulled out her pistol and shot the young guard just above the knee.
He crumpled with a scream.
“Here we go,” Wilma said.
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Wilma & Betty: New Year’s Eve
Wilma & Betty III: New Year’s Eve
The night was early. The moon was still awakening from the dusk. But, already, all of them—Wilma and Betty and Fred and Barney—were so drunk on Jack Danielstone whiskey that none of them could remember who had suggested “wife swapping.”
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