I Had the Strangest Dream...And in this Dream:
It was 1983 and I moved to New York to became a high fashion runway model. I had done my research; I completed a six day course at Hilda Holverstein’s Modeling School, leafed through a Vogue magazine, took some Instamatic head shots, threw-up, watched a fashion documentary on HBO and whipped out of Memphis on a jet plane.
I arrived in Manhattan and was immediately raped by the head of a famous modeling agency. The next day I was on the cover of Cosmo and then twenty-two runway shows for Valentino, Klein, Lauren, Sprouse, Blass, Westwood, Oldham, Halston, Dior, Givenchy, Armani, Versace, YSL, Chanel, Gaultier, Yamamoto, Kawakubo, Miyake, Rykiel, von Furstenberg, Karan, and Johnson, all in that order.
That night I shot smack in the bathroom of Danceteria with Gia Carangi who introduced me to and later slept with Mick Jagger. Lauren Hutton and Barbara Carrera dragged me out of the hotel room the next day and we flew to Kenya for an exotic photo shoot with Peter Beard where I posed with lions devouring gazelles while wearing a white Benetton unitard.
Maud Frizon booked me that night for a photo-spread in Paris Vogue where I was snapped dangling from the Eiffel Tower, climbing the Arc de Triomphe and racing at high speeds in a Bugatti. Grace Jones and I snorted an eight ball and danced on tabletops at a disco/bathhouse.
In the morning, I was late for a haute couture gig with the House of Lanvin where I modeled dresses for CZ Guest and Brooke Astor. After the show I lunched with Claude Montana and we flew his private helicopter to the Alps where Iman and I posed nude in the snow to launch his line of shearling coats for a Mademoiselle spread.
In the morning, I met up with Gerry Hall and Margaux Hemmingway in St. Tropez where we went topless to the beach wearing little crochet jeweled thongs and drank mineral water. We went to the Cannes Film Festival where Margaux introduced me to and later slept with Jack Nicholson. Bursting from the closet, Anjelica Houston flew into an objet d'rage and the ceramic shards were bouncing off the walls. I hopped out a window and into a jet and the next day Paulina Porizkova arrived in New York and was immediately raped and I was replaced. And that was the end of my brief modeling career.
Mémoire du Parade de Fiesta:

In my dream, I find myself under the shade of a live oak tree and the cushion of soft green grass with a quill and stationary embossed with my initials highlighted in Wedgwood blue. I open the transportable writing caddy and remove a page to inscribe a letter to Jonie Driscoll telling her of my engagement and the wonderful afternoon attending the Fiesta parade where I met my future husband.
It was all so sudden, a whirlwind, not to mention he swept me off my feet and three other clichés that sound similar to those three clichés I just said with the whirlwind and the sweeping.
The parade goers were assembling nicely settling among there ilk and I'm seated next to Marvel Whitmire. She’s glowing with satisfaction in having just become engaged to Officer William Harold (Harry) Horsetick.
Afterwords, after many many words of encouragement that it will all be OKAY, we’re seated at the officers club for cocktails and dancing. I begin to feel out of place, third wheelish, not to mention a nuisance and several other clichés similar to those three clichés I just said with the nuisance and the third wheelish stuff.
During the Watusi, Harry, introduces me to, Officer Ralph Cockchute. Instantly I fall in love. Marvel and I have many moments of waffling, indecision, not to mention vacillation and three other clichés that sound similar to those three clichés I just said with the waffling and the indecision over whether to become Mrs. Harry Horsetick and Mrs. Ralph Cockchute.
There, walking in the parade with the sun setting over his shoulder, Ralph, tall, dark and handsome, (and three other clichés) smiles from the front line making goofy gestures and waving his hands around nervously.
Marvel and I decide on a double December wedding.
Darlings:
Sorry Darlings, I’ve been away at the darling Chamuckla Florida International Film Festival. The darling jurors this year were kind enough to honor me with a darling fifty dollar check, retrospective and lifetime achievement award for my work in celluloid.
Combine that with the money I made tricking at the truck stop and I was able to buy my very own rig. It’s not much but I have big plans. 
On the outside it’s an ordinary semi-tractor trailer but on the inside it’s Monte Carlo.
A 24 hour rolling casino. 
As the slightly fey tuxedoed Master of Ceremony, I walk about smoking and pecking old broads on the cheek continental style, and generally say “Darling” a lot.
“Place your bets...Place your bets...darlings”
Meanwhile at The Old Watson Murder Farm:

Guests arrive by steamer for an exciting Murder Season.
Chauffuer driven motor coaches whisk murder parties to their luxurious destination.
Well appointed suites await at The Old Watson Murder Farm located on an idyllic alligator infested canal.
Appropriate murder attire is expected.
Each day your trained trapper will bring the thrashing alligator to the surface for you to murder as he guides your party on two morning alligator hunts and one afternoon Dodo bird kill.
Ladies murder groups are welcome and “Special Lady Murder Guides” are provided for just such occasion.
Alligator Joe is on hand for skinning your catch. Joe will carefully salt pack your excess alligator meat, delivery is guaranteed to arrive fresh as the day you murdered it. He also crafts exquisite footwear and luggage. 
Madame,"Cook", boasts 850 recipes for murdering and preparing alligator meat.
Each guest will murder at least one alligator per day or the cost of the hunt is free.
Our murder hunts are GUARANTEED!
This is truly a once in a lifetime murder adventure that your family will always treasure.
One Time:

One time whilst driving through the desert I ran across Alice the maid from the Brady Bunch. She was standing there under a cactus. I pulled over got out and asked her if everything was okay? “Oh I’m fine but it sure is hot today,” she said. “I was with the Brady’s heading toward the Grand Canyon on vacation when we stopped for gas...and I guess they left without me.” she continued. Well I was just amazed that someone would leave a perfectly good maid out in the blazing hot sun like that so I asked her if there was anything that I could do for her? She looked me up and down and said rather sternly, “No...unless you have some empty potato sacks that we could use to have a race?” I told her that I didn’t but that I did have a canteen filled with cold water that she might have. “That would be nice and I’ll trade you if you wanna smoke a peace pipe with me?” I told her that sounded lovely and she pulled out the most enormous wooden pipe and sparked it up and passed it my way.

“How’s that grab you, it’s some good stuff right?” She said while exhaling a huge plume of smoke. I nodded her way in agreement trying to stifle a choking cough. “Hey have you ever done peyote, I scored some a couple hundred miles back at a ghost town I was at.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a handful of the plants and motioned for me to take them, which I did of course and washed them down with a swig from the canteen.

Feeling already dizzy from smoking the pipe, now my lips were beginning to swell when I started to hallucinate that she had turned into a large iguana.

I lost my balance and fell to the ground when she slithered toward me with her tongue darting in and out and said, “Here eat some of these mushrooms that’ll take the edge off.” She stuck out her claw and I did as she said and you know what she was right.

I was at one with the desert. “Hungry?” Before I could answer she turned her reptile mouth sideways and snatched a rattlesnake off a rock and spit it into a giant frying pan sitting atop a fire that appeared out of nowhere. “This will make you right,” she hissed as she sliced the still sizzling snake into pieces and offered me a slice. It tasted spicy and was filling. “Careful not to let the fangs get caught in your throat...you’ll have a heck of a time getting them unstuck.” I was terrified to ask and just went with it.

Then she swung her tail around motioning toward the mountains and said, “Have you ever been in a sweat lodge, it’s exhilarating, the closest thing to God, there’s one over that hill.” I told her that I hadn’t and thought it would be for the best to sweat out the poison. She snapped her mouth around my collar and dragged me for what seemed like days across the desert floor while vultures circled overhead. We came to a saloon out in the middle of nowhere and she flung me through the swinging doors. Inside there was a fire burning in the center of the room surrounded by cots and I noticed that one was occupied by Peggy Lee and another by Teddy Roosevelt.

A great bald eagle emerged from the smoking fire and handed me a bowl and told me to drink the contents. Immediately I was running and hopping across the clouds holding hands with Peggy and Teddy and Alice the iguana was scurrying along behind us. Each cloud was like a step reaching higher and higher towards heaven. With each skip I was getting closer to God when suddenly I missed a cloud and I was crashing toward the ground. I looked up and saw a lizard’s tail wagging for me to take hold of it but I missed it and saw Teddy shaking his head. I was losing altitude rapidly when I landed on the tail of the bald eagle who glided me safely toward the ground and into the back seat of my car.

When I awoke my lips were dry and chapped and my whole body was swollen. I looked around and saw Alice standing there under her cactus. She yelled out to me, “How are you feeling?” I thought to myself that I must be dead. I didn’t answer her and just then a station wagon pulled up and Jan and Marcia Brady got out and took Alice by the hand and put her in the back.
As they drove by Alice looked out of the window at me and I saw her lizard tongue flickering in and out of her mouth. That was the end of that and I climbed into the drivers seat and drove away never thinking about that day again preferring to believe that it had been a mirage. So if you ever find yourself driving alone in the desert and you happen upon Alice the maid from the Brady Bunch standing under a cactus, you’ll know what's about to happen.


