Tuesday’s Child Is Full of Scorn
Lady Lynda and Auntie Carol were no fools. They knew Las Cabronas were no spoiled, maleable surburanite girls from Bryn Mawr, as were their last female clients. In fact, Las Cabronas were all drop outs who trawled the halls looking for boys to populate their loins. The administration had tried to ban them but they just kept coming back like unwanted blemishes on the ass of a beauty queen. In time the powers that be just gave up on calling the police and accepted their presence as
an “unnecessary evil.”
Auntie Carol said to Lady Lynda on the cold rainy Monday morning, “Dear, I have a little bon mot, for you. Tuesday’s child is full of scorn, and cursed the day that she was born.”
“Oh, exactly, dear, and I think we are in a little over our heads with these girls. I have arranged for The Black Orchid to come and speak to them this afternoon,” said Lady Lynda.”
Aunite Carol giggled, and said, “I hate to be such a biddy but I can’t help but think they deserve what they will get.”
“My thoughts, exactly, dear,” said Lady Lynda who let out a belly laugh.
Promptly at five the girls began to stream into the classroom and LaLa handed them an unopened box of tampons since, in her own words, they were “both on the rag.”
Then The Black Orchid slinked into the room with her pet panther which glistened like the dark night sky and on it’s neck, a collar of diamond studs. The Black Orchid, splendorous as ever wore a spandex black gym suit with a midrff cut which showed the diamond stone in belly button. Diamond chandelier ear rings caught the prismatic light and dangled from her pert, pink earlobes. She stood about six feet four in her high stiletto, open toed pumps, and she wreaked of Shalimar and her familiar sex smell. The spandex conformed to the thin, powerfual curves of her thin body and showed her nipples to be hard.
She grabbed the box of tampons and chucked it into the waste paper basket.
“None of Ye will need these either since you’re all probably pregant with little illegtimate babies, as we speak. Don’t ever insult Auntie Carol or Lady Lynda in manner or in speech again or I shall tear you a new one. And as for Pantera (panther) she is tame for the most part tame unless provoked. Give mommy a kiss, baby,” she said, bending down to the beast who licked her on the cheek and began purring loudly.
The girls began to murmur amongst themselves and a few were brave enough to laugh.
“Shut the fuck up, Ye rank little sluts, before I tear you a new one. Ye shall NOT disresect my friends, Lady Lynda and Auntie Carol. Ye shall become proper young ladies or die trying, and I emphasize the word, ‘die’.” Her midriff moved like the ancient belly dancers of Babylon, and she began to pace back and forth in a menacing way like a coiled spring ready to pop. There was no softness to her body save for her pert, tiny breasts perched high on her chest. There was a silence in the room and one could hear the sharp click of her high shoes on the linoleum floor. A look of puzzlement appeared on the faces of the girls while others glared defiantly, saying nothing.
“Ladies, and I use the word in jest, I am The Black Orchid and I have been alive for three thousand years. I am an immotal from the planet, Euthanasia. I have seen things and experienced things that would unhinge your minds, such as they are. I have survived wars, plagues, the death throes of many an empire. The passing of kings and queens, into the warm, moist earth in death. I was present at the crucifixion of Jesus and gave him his last cool drink of water. How parched his poor lips, and how beauteous his warm, burnt sienna eyes. A very sad day for me. I have yet to forgive our God, the holy Father for that. Strange and mysterious are his ways but for every pain he has bestowed on me, I am grateful for I only became stronger. Then she threw back her head and roared with laughter. It was like the sound of wolves howling and a look of fear flitted over the girl’s faces for the laugh of an immortal is in no way like the laugh of a human.
“I will teach Ye to laugh at tragedy, and glory in your strength for I am woman and Ye are but girls. One fat, mottled, little strumphet of a girl timidly asked if the jewel in her belly button was a zircon.
“Darling,” she said in her most sarcastic voice,” I am loathe to wear immitation jewelry. Aren’t uou glad you asked, dear.” At that moment Pantera stretched and yawned showing her full array of fangs and her pretty pink tongue. One or two girls gasped and the Black Orchid commanded her pet to sit at attention. The beast resembled the Egyptian Godess, Bastet.
“So, you think you’ve had it hard, Ye little pussies. Ye are not but little criminals each and every one of you. You think because you have experieced agony it is permissible to pass it on to other less violent souls. Ye rob, Ye whore, Ye steal and sell your rancid, unclean little asses. You’ve had it tough and my heart goes out to you, Ye poor little bitches. Not!’
The Black Orchid laughed her raw, raucous laugh and tossed her long waist length black hair about.
“This is the Divine Comedy and Ye are too ignorant to know I just made a literary reference.”
“Listen, teach, why you allow the crazy lady to bitch us out like this. We aint done nothin’ to her and she loca (crazy)” said LaLa.
Auntie Carol and Lady Lynda just shrugged and smiled. “We don’t know, dear. Maybe we’re just mean. Psyche, as you youngsters, say,” intoned Auntie Carol.
“I aint stay for this shit. Let’s go bitches,” said Lala at which point The Black Orchid went over and bitch slapped her hard enough to knock her out of ther seat.
“Ye shall stay, Ye rank little pussy. I could throw you accross through room and knock you into Tuesday, bitch! Ye shall hear what I have to say and be still. I am giving you a goddamned spoon of Life and verily I say unto you, you shall eat!”
Lala chasticed and pale got back in her chair for an immortal slap is no thing to ignore or take lightly.
“Listen, girls I was once like Ye. I whored, I stole, I murdered. And each thing I did drained my essence. The honeyed essence of life. An old peasant woman who was a shaman, or as you say, a witch doctor, taught me the ways of strength and womanly kindness and I grew stronger and forsaked my old self. Being a Woman is the most powerful thing one can be. A Woman nurtures and gives and is close to God. Ye are naught but sluts and criminals taking, like a river, the path of least resistance. No one loves you for Ye do not love yourselves. Ye are like piranhas attacking the weak and defenseless and thinking yourselves to be tough. Ye think Ye are realistic and do things to survive to the disadvantage of others. Ye shall burn in Hell and the flames are licking at your feet even as we speak.”
The Black Orchid went over to Lala who saw the green malevolence in her emerald eyes and winced. The Black orchid took her forefinger and cut a line of blood under LaLa’s chin. “Look,” she said laughing, “The blood of the lamb, a sacrifice for Yahweh, The Old Testament God. An eye for an eye: a tooth for a tooth. That is your penance for your wickedness! And I could have as eazily torn off you silly, empty head. Listen to me girls. Ye are angry at the adults in your lives who have failed you in every way over and over again and you view the world as a hostile, carnivous place. For that, we three, don’t fault you. From shit to shit, as the saying goes. I am here to tell you that you can change and become the kind of powerful, good ladies who live happy, fulfilled lives. Change your hearts and your lives will change as well. Quit feeling a need to take vengeance on an unforgiving, hostile universe. I have been a slave, a poisoner and a High Priestess worshipped by thousands. All that matters is to love life and love yourselves. Ye shall stop your shenadigans and learn a trade, and I shall take you to live in my palace with your younger siblings. If you can’t take the country out of the girl take the girl out of the country. Today, girls you become my wards and no is not an option. Ye shall learn to be ladies and full women. My limo awaits. I cannot save the world only a part of it. Ye cannot improve living in a cess pool. Your parents have assented to the change and were happy to take my sum of money. I bought you, in effect.
Ye are God’s lost lambs and these two ladies must be respected and obeyed as they have much to teach you. You are used up like pieces of human excrement. Ye think she are tough but Ye are nought but weak, little pussies. You must take your own lives into your hands, and become goddesses.”
She knelt down and allowed pantera to lick her entire face, and smiled, saying, “Nice kitty, that’s my girl. We three shall cast the poison out of your souls, and purge Ye of the wish to do evil. And Ye shall become godesses, earth godesses anchored to the earth. Each of you come up and take my hands, one by one, and feel the warmth spread into your souls. You shall conquer the world, girls, with gentleness and finess. You are the masters of your fate, captains of your souls. Ye shall not walk alone on this path. We three will walk with until you are strong enough to stand alone.”
And they did so and felt the warmth flood into their bodies, and a beauteous peace descend upon them.
These ladies, Auntie Carol and Lady Lynda will attend to your academics and your manners and we will secure you gainful employment and training. Ye shall no longer follow the path of least resistance like a river. Ye shall talk to therapists and cry leaden tears. Many tears to grow a garden of love within your hearts. I have but one rule. Ye are not to trifle with my slaves: they are solely mine, and mine alone. and for that I would most certainly dispatch you into the next life. I am a jealous Mistress.”
Then the girls followed The Black Orchid out into the impending purple of a moist April night.
Lady Lynda spoke first. “They looked absolutely luminous, don’t you think?”
“Oh, my yes,” replied Auntie Carol who blew them a kiss they never saw.
Then she softly said,”Tuesday’s child is full of scorn and cursed the day that she was born.”
And she chuckled to herself taking Lady Lynda’s gloved hand.
CAROL ANN writer of Poems of Thunder (Noir & Whimsey) @ BN.com & Amazon.com & publishamerica.com
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