Monday, September 27, 2010

Tart Talk - My Friend 'Evil Marie'

I thought it might be fun to 'honor' some of my friends by sharing some favorite stories. I wrote this a few years ago when a good friend was turning 50.  She had (has) an alter ego named ‘Marie’ who is her direct opposite in personality. Marie loves Richard Nixon, pearls and black dresses, has a peculiar 'queen like' wave, can do a perfect imitation of Elmer Fudd's 'Fire' and dislikes rude furry felines. The best one word description for Marie ...evil. 

Excerpts from the TART** interviews…  In September we’ll be witness to a monumental event, the 50th birthday of the world renowned, much loved, often feared Marie . IIn anticipation of that grand event the TART took to the road earlier this year to interview a number of individuals who have crossed paths with Marie over the last number of years…

From an Interview with Richard M. Nixon…

Tart: Mr. Nixon, few of us knew Marie in the early 70’s during your disastrous fall from grace but in later years she always maintained you were set-up as the fall-guy. Can you comment sir?
Richard M. Nixon: Certainly. I’m afraid my memory is even worse that it was then, but I do remember Marie. She was a bright beacon in the night. That girl actually believed in me. Perhaps it was only pity…but what the hell. She warned me even before that Watergate fiasco…STAND UP YOU LOSER. BE A MAN.. NOT A SCHUMK. STOP YOUR GODDAMN LYING and CRYIN’. I wish I had listened.
Tart: What is the last memory you have of Marie?
Richard M. Nixon: I guess it was that last walk across the east lawn and up into the Air Force II helicopter. I turned to wave and there she stood…like a sentinel in the crowd. I waved once….she did  that little fluttery wave like thing she does so well, and that was it…it was over!

From an Interview with Margaret Thatcher…

Tart: Lady Margret, I recall in the early 80’s that the British press were absolutely frantic after someone broke into No. 1 Downing and absconded  a glorious set of pearls, a family heirloom I’m told, never recovered. Can you comment?
Margaret Thatcher: Yes, yes, they were lovely indeed. Kept the beauties in my girdle and thong drawer. Such a shame.
Tart: Is  it true,  years later when visiting Canada you believe you actually spotted the thief at a dinner reception in Ottawa.
Margaret Thatcher:  Yes there sat the thieving  bitch dressed in a black suit with my dead grandmothers pearls wrapped around her neck looking eerily like a Margret Thatcher imposter!   In fact at a later reception we actually had a picture taken together. This Marie woman was cagey enough to have removed the pearls for the portrait. Her companion was a swarthy looking Mexican fella.
Tart: Do you regret not wrestling her to the ground?
Margaret Thatcher:  Absolutely and if I ever happen to see her again she won’t be so lucky…

In conversation with SPAWN (ex-feline of Marie)

Tart: nice to see you again after all these years .the Plastic surgery has certainly helped keep the authorities at bay.
Spawn: Yeah and helped keep that bitch marie from a search and destroy mission.
Tart: Recall for us, if you will, Spawn from Hell, that sad day in the spring of 94 when you knew it was time to move on..
Spawn: yea sure. Well me and my two fat buddy cats had heard the whispering between Marie and the Mexican for days but couldn’t quite make out the words. The Mexican was trying to appease Marie ...but you knew where that was leading. Cripes, when Marie got her small twisted mind around something..that was it. We started noticing some other clues as well.  The Mexican who was as  retentive as hell when stacking our vittles, ya know, by color, by date, by flavor stopped doing so. The fat cats thought he was nuts, but I kinda’ liked the variety. The Mexican liked to match underwear and socks. Us three cats would laugh until we started choking up hairballs and end up peeing on the floors. And that’s where the trouble started. 
First the floor...then the leather couch! BIG DEAL! But that evil Marie..she didn’t see the humour. The whispering meant only one thing…out! The Mexican dragged us down to the Humane society (nice name huh?) Marie tried to look sad. Someone will take us she said..yea sure..a couple of 15 year old matted queens. Two days later I blew that joint. I’ve been in the witness protection program ever since, hence the disguise. Someday though...I’ll be back..they don’t call me Spawn from Hell for nothing. Got that Marie’s new address?
Tart: No comment. Thanks for telling your story Spawn.

The Tart caught up with Mr. Elmer Fudd at his Hollywood Hills home…

“I’m switting in my cwar..I turn on da’re wolding me quose..I jus’ say whoo..”

Tart: Excuse me, Mr Fudd can I have a few moments of your time?
Mr Fudd: Well..certainwy
Tart: Mr Fudd I want to take you back if I can to Ottawa Canada in the summer of 1989 when it came to your attention that a local woman had been impersonating you singing your hit song “ Fire” at  impromptu performances for her silly friends.
Mr Fudd: Wes..dat’s twue Ms Twart. I was on twour in Canada hunting dat wasscally wabbit  when it came to mwy attwention that this Pwincess chick was entwertaining her fwends by imperswonating me. The ferver has cooled down ower time but I know dat witch is swtill out dere singing my goddwam song! I ewen hear she twinks she’s dwat ratfink chipmuck Chip! Can  ya believe it..her and some DALE lookalike traveling around pwetending  to be dose two chipmucks ! Wat daya  twink of dwat?
Tart: Weird isn’t it ? Thank you Elmer Fudd. .

Other Marie episodes from 'Tales from the Tart' vault…

The Picnic Bitch Chronicles: These episodes took place over several seasons until the Picnic Bitch Tiara mysteriously disappeared.

Sunday Morning Coming Down : Sunday morning in Borehaven…  
 Marie rides her bike over to visit the Tart for a Sunday morning coffee. It’s 10:30 am. The Tart, who has no conception of how to survive in surburbia and has not made contact with the neighbors in 6 years except to harass their animals, decides the coffee is in need of some Baileys....

The Night Stalker: How Marie tried to run down the Tart one dark night..

Caught in the Act: How Marie was finally caught sitting parked in a Mini-van..something she swore she would never do. The Tart has the photo.

Valentine’s Day Massacre: How the Tart survived an overnight adventure in the BVI's with Marie and The Munk, by attempting  to fly her underwear from a hotel fan in a vain attempt to seek help from passersby.
A Toad’s Tale: How a lovely summer brunch outdoors at the Munk's turned into a 'pee your pants' event when Marie was bombarded by toads dropping from heaven. 

** Tart is one of my nicknames.

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