January 12, 2018The matriarch was ushered in by a band of utter morons, as usual. The domicile, which she so humbly decided to speak, was a desirous locale centered amongst the beleaguered and the bourgeoisie, dull as exposed brick and banal the likes of exfoliating femmes. Disparagingly, she delved into the drivel that so often fed the daunting droves; initiating a dissonant dissent among the natives was her sole and indomitable approach—Valentino and Balenciaga—sparkling diamonds and that constant slow motion laugh, in rare form, like usual.
”Madame, madame, over here!”
”Yes, you,” she hissed slowly while adjusting her left earring, “what is it?”
”How do you feel about being with us once again here in New York?”
”The stench is pungent and the people hardly interest me enough to make me sick.”
”Countess, Countess…”
”Yes, you, the peasant with the atrociously thin eyebrows.”
”Will we say you at any of the upcoming balls this year?”
”One can hope and pray—so, you may want to get on your knees—the sooner, the better.”
”Your Majesty…”
”You, young lady with the electronic device disgustingly attached to your hand.”
”Will you ever create a social media account for all your adoring fans?”
”When pigs fly. Keep an eye on your children—they may grow wings.”
”Madame Ishtar, over here, I worship the ground you walk on!”
”Of course you do! What is your question? And don’t waste my time and squander your greatest moment with mediocrity, young man.”
”Will you ever marry?”
”Finally, a relevant question. I have found a worthy husband after so many decades. I am aware you have pleaded for such a union…well, dream no longer, I shall introduce him here today.”
The crowd approached a little closer. The smell of steaming designer wear filled the room. The sound of high heels scraped and coupled with flashing bulbs and cameras clicking and people showing and grunting and crying out the name,” Ishtar…Ishtar…Ishtar…”
The Countess caressed her clavicle with thin pale fingers as she lost her self for a short moment staring at the glorious chandelier that appeared to be slightly spinning. Her right foot almost gave out from excitement and then she cried, “Yeshua, bring out the groom-to-be, will you, darling?”
And so the bloated, bearded man disappeared to the side of the stage for a few moments while the Madame demanded silence. Gasps and small shrieks filled the room as he returned with a lion on a chain—his collar encrusted with diamonds of all sizes. The beautiful beast gently pawed his way to her and rested at her feet.
The Madame extended her long arms arrayed in long silk pearl-white gloves and said, “I present you: Togar!”
∞
