******************************************
It was another traumatic, angst-filled day in the town of Llameview. At nearby Llameview General Hospital, Dr. Barry Rolex, Head of Surgery, Cardiology, Neurology, Pathology, Garbology, and every other "ology," paced his office, scratching his head in puzzlement.
Why was Jessimina Blowcannon, daughter of his dear friend, Pretoria Broad Blowcannon, still in a coma? Why the hell did it always seem as if he were the only doctor in this damn place?
Meanwhile, back in the ICU, Pretoria stood with her face pressed to the glass. This was a terrible position to be in! For one thing, it always made her nose fall asleep.
"Oh, Jessimina!" She sniffed, tears stinging her eyes as she gazed forlornly at the pale, blonde figure lying in the bed, tubes protruding from every opening, machines beeping and booping as they monitored her vital functions, which were in grave danger of malfunctioning at any moment.
"My darling daughter, you must come back to us," Pretoria pleaded, "so I can hide all your shoes in the attic and crown you "Baroness of Bunions." Then, together, we can go traipsing barefoot through the summer squash. I...I'll even buy you a new pair of...f-flip-flops." Unable to bear it any longer, Pretoria doubled over in a spasm of grief, loud sobs wracking her body.
"Pretoria."
She heard a husky voice call her name, felt a warm hand squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. It was her favorite ex-husband, Flint Blowcannon, Jessimina's father and number one cowpoke wannabe.
"Oh, Flint!" Pretoria turned, and flung herself into his strong bronco-bustin' arms. "What are we going to do?" she wailed. "Our baby has to come back to us...she simply must come back! Otherwise, I'll...I'll never polish...m-my...toenails again!" At this, the reigning matriarch of the Broad-Blowcannon clan broke down into fresh sobs.
"Oh...Pretoria," Flint sighed, stroking her hair. "I miss her, too. I was really lookin' forward to Jessimina comin' down to the ranch and doin' a little calf-ropin' with me and Pa, but now--"
Flint's voice trailed off. Gosh durn if he didn't feel like he had a tumbleweed the size of Texas stuck in his throat. "She's my daughter too, Pretoria." he choked. "...Ain't she?"
Poor Jessimina! She'd only been trying to escape a nasty fight that had broken out between Wendell Davenport, the biological father of her child, and Chester Draws, her fiance, the man she truly loved. At least, until her contract was up.
Shamed in front of her family and friends at her own engagement party, Jessimina fled from the Crossbones Bar and out into the cool, quiet night, thinking a walk on the highway might clear her head. (A pretty girl, but obviously not too bright)
Distracted and upset, she was hardly aware of the car bearing down on her until the headlights were in her eyes, the sickening screech of skidding tires ringing in her ears. And all she could do was scream in frozen horror as the car barrelled hopelessly toward her, the driver's panic-stricken face clearly etched in her mind.
It was that Chanel-suited witch Horian Broad Ways--her mother's arch rival, worst enemy, and former step-mother, once actually wed to Pretoria's own father, the evil Hector Broad!
As the red sportscar plowed into her, Jessimina's last thoughts were: Where the hell did she get that kerchief?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Two floors below in the solarium, another heart-wrenching drama was unfolding as Dora Hannon O'Bannon Blowcannon (banana-fana-fo-fannon--no...just kidding) stood facing her soon-to-be-ex-husband, Mo Blowcannon, brother of Flint "I'm an old cowhand" Blowcannon, not to be confused with Lank O'Bannon, her previous ex-husband, who was the D.A. of Llameview and brother of that no-good, conniving scoundrel, P.U. O'Bannon. (Confused, are we?)
"Oh, Mo," Dora sniffed apologetically, "even though I slept with Ham Davenport--not to mention the gardener, the pool boy, and the UPS man--because you couldn't get me pregnant, you must believe...I...never meant...to hurt you."
Dora paused, taking a shaky breath. "Then Dr. Conkhead told me...the hospital...made a...mistake."
Mo Blowcannon glared at his soon-to-be-ex-wife number five, (give or take a few), his blue eyes glittering like twin buzzsaws, his nostrils flared like a bull ready to charge.
"What mistake...Dora!" he growled.
Dora shifted her gaze nervously. "You can have...children, Mo," she whispered. "More than the old lady who lived in the shoe--if that's what you want."
"What?" Mo gasped in shock. "You mean--wait a minute!" He charged angrily. "Are you tellin' me that...Milton...might be my son, and not Davenport's?!"
"Hmm...could be," Dora shrugged. "But we won't know for sure until the D.N.A. test comes back."
Mo Blowcannon felt like he'd just landed ass-down one of his boot spurs. Hot damn! The li'l buckeroo could be his!
"Have you told...him?!" he snarled, his lips curled into a derogatory sneer.
"Have you no heart, Mo Blowcannon?" Dora scolded. "For God's sake, he's only an infant!"
"Not THAT him, Dora!" Mo shrieked. "I meant Ham!--"
"Did I hear someone say "ham"? An elderly gentlemen cut in, looking at Mo dubiously. "Nah...no ham today," he stated with a vigorous shake of his white-haired head. "Special's roast chicken."
"Aw, for the lovva Pete!" Mo cried, flinging his arms up in frustration.
Just then, Mimsy Davenport, ex-wife of Ham, current main-squeeze of Mo, and all-purpose bleach-blonde Baywatch bimbo look-alike, came strolling into the solarium.
Mimsy stopped short, a look of horror on her face.
"Mo!" She gasped.
"Mimsy!" Mo gasped.
"Dora!" Mimsy gasped.
"Mimsy!" Dora gasped.
They stood staring at one another in open-mouthed surprise long enough for Dr. Barry Rolex to perform two frontal lobotomies and an esophagus transplant, then polish off an entire pepperoni pizza. Then, the curtain slowly came down.
Another day of hankie-clutching, gut-twisting drama had come to an end. But the questions still remain:
Will Jessimina ever come out of her coma to reign once more as the Baroness of Bunions...? Will she ever learn the perils of jaywalking...?
Will Pretoria ever stop marrying and re-marrying Flint Blowcannon...? Will she have to traipse barefoot through the summer squash by herself...?
Will Horian Broad Ways ever admit to running down Jessimina with her little red corvette...? Where DID she get that ridiculous Picasso-painted kerchief...? Will Llameview General ever get more doctors, or at least an assistant for Dr. Barry Rolex...? A trash can for his office...?
Who's the real father of baby Milton...? Is it Mo Blowcannon, or Ham Davenport...? Will Dora and Mimsy have a hair-pulling match...? Or will they hug tenderly, fall in love and have a wild affair, leaving Ham and Mo to pick up the pieces of their achey-breakey hearts while sharing joint custody of Milton...?
Will Mimsy ever tell Mo that she played "eenie meenie miney" with his fertility test results...?
You'll tune in tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. Why?
Because there's only One Lousy, Rotten, Stinking, Awful Life to Live.
And thank God it ain't your's.
End. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"I tried to think but nothin' happened." - Curly