Last night, at dinner, a beauty pageant queen, dressed in her sash and crown... I should probably clarify that... She was wearing more than just her sash and crown. It would be oh so wrong, if she were wearing only a sash and crown... So anyway, last night at dinner at the Dean's house, a beauty pageant queen, a truly delightful young woman, complete with her sash and crown, taught us how to fold our napkin to look like a turkey.
Would you like to know more about the evening?
It was a dark and stormy night (I've always wanted to write that, but it really was). Anyway, it was a dark and stormy night. I sat for a few minutes in my car, waiting for the rain to let up before dashing through the shrubs and around to the front door of the old house. The guest list, for dinner, might have been drawn up by Agatha Christie herself. The Dean was there, of course. After all, it was her house. And the Dean's young son. The guest speaker was there with her husband in tow. Also, a hearing-impaired emeritus professor. Ninety year-old twin alumnae. A lawyer from the Attorney General's office. Several representatives from the alumni association and from the staff. And of course, our beauty queen. She showed us how to fold a towel so that it looked like a monkey. And then she turned her attention to the napkins. Somewhere, upstairs, a dog barked. Rain hit the windows like a spray of bullets. I'd like to tell you that's when the power went out. But I can't. Because it didn't. And this is a mostly true story. Even the dead body parts. Well, not dead "body parts." Even the parts about the "dead bodies."
The dinner conversation was gracious and genteel, and notwithstanding
the seismic changes that were represented by a span of some seventy
years, the ladies still shared a certain connection. And then, one of
the women leaned across the table and asked, Do you know about the murders?
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