Beaver’s mother had an affair with Mr. Rutherford and was forced out of Mayfield and secluded herself as a nun who could fly in San Diego. But the flying nun got off her bat-cycle and took off her habit. She tousled up her bobbed brown hair and shook her head side to side and purred in a soft-toned, “Oh, Donald!” to her new boyfriend. And then she drove to Minneapolis in a white Mustang coupe and got a job as associate producer of the WJM-TV news.
But after seven years, she got fired and worked as a waitress at Mel’s Diner in the desert, but that didn’t work out, so she married a reliable plumber and moved to Lanford, Illinois, gained lots and lots of weight, and had three kids who wise-cracked her all the time. But then she decided she was a lesbian who owned a bookstore in Los Angeles and told the whole world over an airport microphone, but the fall-out from that sent her to New York as sex columnist who had lots and lots of sex with Mr. Big, but then she got tired of Mr. Big and went to England to marry an earl and became a countess.
She did all this while retaining her youthful looks and calm demeanor. That’s because she’s woman, hear her roar.
No comments:
Post a Comment