The Prick of the Voodoo

My Virtual Darling

When we first met in the public chatroom there were a number of other regulars in the room as well. There was “School Marm” from Michigan, “JJ Anyway” from Florida, “Huggsy Bear” from who knows where and of course there was “Track Mamma” from Texas.

We were quite the little community and as we got to know one another many of us met in real life. It was a lot easier for you guys who were at least on the same continent and in the same country, but even those who couldn’t meet still found ways to connect. We exchanged gifts, spoke on the phone and populated one another’s lives in various ways.

It will seem a little narcissistic to say but Track Mamma had quite a little crush on me. She would be flirtatious and send me private messages. Her gifts were of a personal nature and I must be honest here, she absolutely loathed you. It was not because you had offended her, it was because she knew that you and I had a special relationship and she was insanely jealous.

She sent me a plethora of gifts: Homemade shortbread, ornaments and trinkets from her home along with other knick knacks and curios. There is however the one thing she sent me that I still laugh out loud about to this day. She sent me an Apple Pie.

Let’s not forget, she lived in Texas, I lived in Sydney, Sydney Australia which is almost 14,000 kilometres away. How did she ship that pie you may ask? Well it was not refrigerated in any way. Track Mamma told me it would be just fine and that it would not require any special attention. “I put it in the freezer for two days” was her reply to my incredulity regarding her shipping and handling plans. I did not bang on about it. She had hand made me a pie and had shipped it to me in Australia. I would not hurt her feelings by telling her there was no chance that it would arrive in a fit state to consume.

I remember its delivery quite vividly. I happened to be standing by my letterbox when it arrived. It was covered in customs and quarantine information. There were stickers all over it stating what they had done to the package to make it fit for distribution in Australia. It had clearly been opened and resealed (quite badly I might add) to check its content.

So a good two weeks or more after it left the continental United States my apple pie from Track Mamma arrived. It had been quarantined, irradiated, inspected, ripped opened and resealed. There was a puddle of pastry and apple at the bottom of a clip lock plastic bag. There was nothing I could do except place it in the rubbish.

So thank you Track Mamma. I feel a little cruel laughing at your misfortune and I would have no doubt enjoyed consuming your apple pie. If it’s any consolation I think of you still if perhaps not in the most flattering manner.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

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My Dear Magnetic Sir,

Ahh yes, the chatroom we met in holds so many weird and scary memories. I haven’t thought of those chatters in years. I suppose I consider myself fortunate that I was able to remove myself from the chatroom scene relatively unscathed in a modest amount of time. I heard later that chatrooms became horrid places akin to cess pools. I shan’t complain too much though, because it’s where I met you dear Sir.

In all honesty, no one cared where Huggsy Bear was from. She was a little punch drunk when she typed her infamous line of “I have a scottle of botch.”  School Marm was decent, but JJ was a pervert. Funguy was, well a fun guy. I met him and Jay and Stephanie in real life down in Georgia. I still keep in touch with Stephanie.

To say that Track Mamma loathed me is putting it mildly. She didn’t speak to me for quite some time, and when she finally did it was only the briefest of greetings done begrudgingly because of you. I remember informing you of this, and I don’t think you quite believed me at first. I came into the room under an assumed name while Miss TM was happily chatting away with you like a magpie. When I left and entered with my regular name, she clammed up tighter than a drum. Case in point, I think she was dismayed that her chicken bones dance and Voodoo Darling Doll wasn’t working. She didn’t want to incur the wrath of Sir by being unkind to me, so she would grunt or nod my way in a gesture of social competence.  And let’s face it my love, Track Mamma hadn’t ran a track since grade school. I have blotted out the one and only picture of her from my memory in self preservation.

Sir, you know as well as I do that there were many female hearts a fluttering in that chatroom when you appeared on the scene. I heard the grinding of numerous fingernails of women who wouldn’t have thought twice of scratching my eyes out and skewering me in hopes of removing me from the picture in order to catch your golden eye. I am touched that the eye of Sauron  Sir gazed so fondly my way. Your charisma and charm was huge and they all knew it.

As for the apple pie debacle sweetheart, nothing says love like botulism.

Infectiously yours,

Darling

©2014 Darling and Sir

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