A slight interlude from the thread of our narrative. There's a reason for this.

Magdalena Mink's Song

It's not pretty bein' me. / Just try it, and you'll see. / It's harder than you think, / To be a gorgeous mink. / La di da da da da di, / It's not pretty bein' me.

The song that Minerva habitually trilled was a mere faded pop remix version of the original torch song lounge piano classic with a whine of violins and clarinets in the background.

It was written for Magdalena Mink, a stage and recording star from a generation previous to Minerva's. Magdalena was as wildly popular in her day with the Cartoon Citizenry and Sentient Animals as cinema actress Greta Garbo was with the human populace.

And, like Garbo, Magdalena retired from public life at the height of her popularity. No one could say where she went. "Publicity-shy" was an understatement. She disappeared off the radar like a rumored UFO.

And speaking of rumors…the tabloid newspapers and TV shows tried to manufacture rumors and scandals, but, unlike with other celeb's, the gossip basically did not take root in the public consciousness.

Magdalena was too upright, and too admired; no tales of extramarital affairs or drunken revelries tarnished her reputation.

Minerva took Magdalena for a model…or tried to. Her wardrobe was classy and fashionable. But her reputation as a fickle man-eater was too well known.

And the song…it was one of Magdalena's signature songs, and her version remained the most popular decades after it had been recorded. It was played in diner jukeboxes. It was performed in blue collar piano bars, middle class cocktail lounges, and tony high society night clubs.

Those who were lucky enough to see her live performance considered it an event akin to the coronation of a monarch. There was the darkened performance space. It might be on the raised bandstand, or on the lower floorshow space. The walls were softly backlit, showing the silhouette of the grand piano, with the pianist in profile A spotlight slowly widened on the floor in front of the piano. And Magdalena slowly ambled into the spotlight from offstage right. She was attired in a formfitting floor-length black gown, sequined, strapless and backless, and slit on the left up to her thigh. Her head was bowed, her shoulders slumped, and her arms folded at her waist, as though in dejection, her long platinum tresses obscuring her face.

The piano began with a few chords. She languidly picked up the microphone from the piano, and lifted her head and chin. Her hair fell back to show face etched with pessimism. Closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath, she huskily began to sing.

It's not pretty being me, / I tried too hard, you see.

Then cue the melody.

It's no picnic being me, / A drop-dead gorgeous mink. / I make it look so easy, / Despite what you may think.

Life, I told myself, / Is just a walk in the park. / My working day began / As soon as it was dark.

I didn't really care / If my men behaved like curs, / As long as they kept me dressed / In jewels and in furs.

I was always just an ornament / On some rich guy's arm. / My man promised to take care of me / And to keep me safe from harm.

But nobody filled me in / On the real unpretty truth. / My appeal was only as good / As my looks and my youth.

And here her voice began to ascend in scale and volume.

And the absolute / Worst thing of all? / Nobody told me / How far I would fall,

Or how many times my heart / Would get bro-o-o-o-o-ken… / That's the thing / That's never spo-o-o-o-o-ken.

This was the crescendo. Her voice would ascend to the heavens. She would draw out the words "bro-ken" and "spo-ken". The passion she filled her singing with would run like a thundering waterfall. It would tighten the throat and wring the heart of each and every listener. And the heartache and sorrow would be as visibly etched into her uplifted face and closed eyes; it would be as palpable as it was audible in her voice.

She would let the passion subside with the sound. And when she began again, her voice would be a bare whisper.

Be smart, gals, / And take a leaf from my book. / The men only care / About good how you look.

One could almost hear the bittersweet smirk of cynicism in her voice in the last line.

So don't wait like me / For your cushy life to go south. / You heard it here first, / From the pretty mink's mouth.

Then the spotlight would fade. And Magdalena would lay the microphone down on the piano, slump her head and shoulders again, and wearily drag herself back offstage.

And the audience would go berserk with riotous applause, cheers, and whistles. When the house lights came up, both men and women could be seen to be wiping their eyes and blowing their noses.

As a performer, Magdalena was not aloof from her public. She had an uncannily unerring instinct about fans who were troubled. She personally answered every such letter, and sometimes secretly visited them at their home. She even visited a number of people who had attempted suicide. Her replies, both written and personally spoken, were jealously guarded confidences by the recipients. And no amount of cash offered by the periodicals could induce the fans to break their confidentiality.

There were numerous imitators, but only Magdalena Mink could pull it off. In all her career, she never received a bad review.

Minerva Mink's version of the song was written for her to sing in some forgotten B movie by some forgotten hack song writer…if indeed whoever it was had even studied music. It might have been by the assistant director.

She was glad that both the public and show biz had forgotten the movie; it was awful, some romantic comedy about a self-centered self-indulgent celeb whose sex appeal drew the wheeler-dealers and opportunists; she had trouble fending them off and hooking a man she considered 'worthy' of her; in some ways, it was too close to real life. And her leading man in the film wasn't even someone she could consider good-looking; but he was rich, colossally egotistic, and a total boor.

She often sang 'her' version as sort of a lament to the time and trouble it took to maintain her high class image; but under it all, deep in he heart, there was a tone of irony, maybe even bitterness. And the original Magdalena Mink song? Minerva's own career was such a bust, and her veneration of her role model so elevated, that she refused to ever vocalize the song, either for herself, or the occasional rare request.

Her artificial 'friends', like Shirley and Trudy, who merely dated, gossiped, partied, socialized, or shopped together, did not understand. Those things in themselves didn't constitute a shallow lifestyle; it was only shallow when that was all that there was to one's life; it was what the song was about, after all.

Her sincere friends, whose relationship had depth, Lola Bunny and Sawyer Somali, did understand. And they further understood Minerva's seeming hypocrisy, wavering between the two extremes. A struggle was occurring in Minerva's own heart.

When she was feeling down, or getting ready to go on a date with someone she especially despised, Minerva would play the song on her stereo. And every time she heard it, she would shout out with only herself to hear in the hollow log bungalow, "Amen, sister! Preach it!"

mm~mm~mm~mm~mm~mm~mm

And the 'forgettable' movie…and Minerva's own 'version' of Magdalena's song…there was one who did remember… One of Minerva's dearest possessions was an eight-inch-by-ten-inch glossy black-and-white picture of Magdalena herself. It had Magdalena's autograph and a personal hand-written note. Minerva herself was a rare recipient of one of Magdalena Mink's legendary one-on-one epistolary responses. It thrilled the young would-be celeb to her marrow to receive it

Dear Minerva,

I liked your movie, even if no one else did. What do the critics know?

You have potential you haven't even tapped yet. Never stop believing, either in Providence or in yourself. Never surrender your dreams. You're stronger than your disappointments. Keep an open door on your heart.

I believe in you. I expect to see and hear great things of you. Us minks gotta stick together, girl. Want to meet you someday.

love, Magdalena

The picture was one of the things that survived the carnage when Mau Mau trashed her place, several residences ago. He had been two-timing her friend Shirley with her…or two-timing her with her friend Shirley. It was hard to tell.

Anyhow, she had thrown the bum out on his keister; but as a parting gesture, he had broken in when she was out…looking specifically for the picture, according to what she had heard from Shirley, later…either to hock it for some cash, or to tear it to pieces out of spite. Anyhow, both Mau Mau and Shirley (please, God) were out of her life, good riddance.

Minerva treasured it like a holy relic; she kept it in the bottom of a dresser drawer; she hadn't even looked at it since she had moved out of the suburbs to the hollow log bungalow in the Woods of Burbank.

Looking back on it, if Newt, the red-nosed Prussian Pointer Dachshund, had damaged the picture when he dynamited her home, she probably would have made mincemeat of the mutt.

The fact that Magdalena had written her, and the fact that the picture had survived all attempts to steal or mangle it, were evidence to her that there was a Mink Upstairs. The Humans liked to call Him the Man Upstairs; they were entitled to their narrow-minded views. And the fact that she had surrendered her dreams was evidence that Magdalena had Minerva figured all wrong…her disappointments were stronger than her. And an open door on the heart? That could be problematic; sometimes it was just easier to shut everybody out instead of trying to figure out who was a friend and who was an exploiter. So the picture was like her life, in a way…bittersweet, unfulfilled, might-have-been.

to be continued

A / N

In her two solo cartoon appearances, Minerva comports herself like a canny cartoon char, as clever at eluding both predators and suitors as Bugs Bunny or the Roadrunner. There's a story here on the FF-dot-net site that reads like classic Warner Bros. material, Minktails, by Brainiac, published 'way back in 2007, a 174,324-word-85-chpt. opus. It's witty and slapstick-y. It really manages to come off as rollicking as something directed by the famous Chuck Jones, the creator of the Warner Bros. char's. I endorse it.

And it's a style totally beyond me. I'm a lover of drama. As the Warner publicity has stated, Minerva is based on the curvaceous platinum-haired breathy-sounding movie sirens of the 1950's and '60's, like Marilyn Monroe and Jayne Mansfield. Both of these unfortunate ladies led unhappy lives and came to unfortunate ends, Marilyn dying of overdose and Jayne in a traffic accident. And while I intend a happier end for Minerva, there are some issues in her life and some jaundice in her outlook. Hence the mood of the song…

…Regarding the song…(groan) folk say I have a flair for prose and poetry, but songwriting isn't in the skill set. I gave it my best try just making the lyrics rhyme. And as Minerva is based on Marilyn Monroe, Magdalena Mink is based on such sliver screen luminaries of yesteryear as Greta Garbo and Marlene Dietrich.

There's a scene in the Patsy Cline biopic, Sweet Dreams, starring Jessica Lange, where she sings the song referred to in the title. It represents a change in the style of the late lamented Ms. Cline, who also died tragically, in a plane crash, may she rest in peace. Instead of garb like Stetson hats, western boots, calico, leather, and denim, she wore a black evening gown. And instead of the guitar-banjo-fiddle instrumentation, there's the slow whine of violins, like Manitovani, or Percy Faith. For the non-Baby Boomers, that's the 1950's & '60's style of easy-listening-elevator-&-waiting-room music, aka Muzak. And instead of the 'growling and yodeling' as her agent puts it, she sings the song like a mournful ballad. The effect is most unlike country music, more like slow jazz. That was the effect I envision for Magdalena Mink's song.

As earlier indicated, I've reworked Minerva's personality; she's a gal with baggage that she's trying to shed, and past that she's trying to rise above. Newt, Shirley, and Mau Mau are referred to in Minerva's first starring cartoon, Meet Minerva. I plan to show more of them in future fic's.

And Magdalena Mink? Will Minerva ever meet her heroine? If course! How? That's for you to know and me to find out…waitaminute! Did I say that right?