So when I added him to my phone at the end of the evening, reluctant to see him leave at all, I tapped out the letters M, c, B, e, s, t, i, and e. And we made plans to see each other at high noon on Easter Sunday.
That conversation proceeded as follows:
"PPSS: perhaps I will feature my Philip Treacy trilby hat, with an Andy Warhol Liz silk screened on it, tomorrow. For it is hand painted in this dazzling array of sherbet hues that speak to an Easter color palate, frankly. I haven't taken it out for a walk in years. Since Paris Hilton was photographed in it and near ruined the magic of that brilliant chapeau, for me. Time to dig in the accessories vault!"
* * *
"Dig baby dig! Andy and Liz are counting on you. They were just as horrified by the aforementioned snapshot as you were. I know this because I talk to Liz whilst I bubble bathe."
* * *
"LADY, then hop in that tub right now and tell Dame Liz that 'I LOVE & MISS HER!!! And how dare she leave this world without allowing me an afternoon's lunch of Lobster Cobb Salad, al fresco at The Hotel Bel Air!!!' I will be out there next month & will pay my respects at THBA, in Her Majesty's absentia!!!"
Glorious Technicolor! He was my Herbert Kalmus. The Edward Raymond Turner of my fishbowl.
I was going to need a hat! Some peeps. Graham crackers. Chocolate bunnies. And something to hack them to pieces with. Good thing I had an accomplice.
Stay tuned for the peep show!
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