*HaPPy BiRThDay CHELE*

One of the Originals is celebrating a birthday today!!

***HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHELE***

Ya'll know I had to hook That Oldgirl Chele up with a LadyLee style birthday card...

And thanks to the LBeezy, I've FINALLY figured out how to send cookies through the mail! So I hooked Chele up with some oatmeal spiced apple cranberry walnut cookies and triple chocolate chip pecan cookies!!


Now, I also sent her a 26 page, 7200 word story. Don't worry, I ain't posting it here! (Ya'll know I'm longwinded, but that's TOO much right there, LOL!)

Shoot, Nikki, the Iniquitous One, read it, thoroughly critiqued it. We had a very spirited discussion over IM last night about what we both liked and didn't like about it... Ya'll know Nikki is like, the writing guru and all... I was glad to hear what she had to say. So I have a bit of work to do on it. So look out for me to work on that Nikki!!!

But, I DO have a story... One only Chele would understand... so, uh, you don't have to read it, as it is a epilogue of sorts to the story I sent her, and you will be scratching your head saying "What the heck is LadyLee talking about?"

Ya'll be alright... skip your tails down to the food!

As for now, a side story for Chele...

"The Mission"

LadyLee was on a mission.

She was on a mission to stand on the same stage where the legendary Chele sang, in a club deep in the backwoods of Alabama. The very same stage where Chele sang a perfect rendition of Patsy Cline’s “I Fall to Pieces”, blowing away the red neck crowd.

LadyLee wanted to stand on that stage.

Terry, Mr. Cheap Seats himself, was in the ATL on business that week, and offered to drive her down to the place, some three hours away. They made it there a little later than LadyLee cared for, around midnight, on a Saturday no less. So, it was no suprise that the place was packed to the hilt. They couldn’t even get into the parking lot.

“Is this the place?” Terry asked. He peered out the window, squinted hard at the dimly lit area.

“Yeah, Joe-Bob’s Hoe-Down.”

“You sure you wanna go in there?”

“Yeah, man! Chele sung up in this camp! They know her. She said they were cool, real cool peeps.”

“That's a huge confederate flag draped across the front of the building, Lee. You want me to go in there with you?”

“Na’wl, I can go by myself,” LadyLee said. She slid out of the car, grabbed the large paper bag she’d brought for the ride and slammed the door. “You just do as I said. You stay out here with the car running. Don’t even put it in park. Keep it in drive, hold your foot on the brake.”

Terry frowned. “I may just get out and smoke my cigar.”

“No, Terry! It’s your car, smoke in the car, Man.”

“But what if I need to go take a piss, LadyLee?”

“No Terry! You sit on these cheap car seats of yours and hold it. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Terry sighed. He gripped the steering wheel.

LadyLee clenched the bag in her hand and ran across the gravel parking lot, past the pickup trucks and motorcyles.

LadyLee walked into the lobby.

No one was there.

“Hello?” she said.

No one answered.

She saw a table there, and a metal box with a lock on it. But there was no one around.

The music was loud as hell. People were hooping and hollering something awful. The racket was coming from behind a black velvet curtain to the left of the entrance.

LadyLee pulled back the curtain, went inside. It was dark and everyone was staring at the stage, where a woman was singing just a bit too loud and a bit too hard. Glass crunched beneath herfeet. And if she wasn’t mistaken, the floor was sticky.

LadyLee shuddered. "This is too nasty," she said under her breath.

No one paid her any attention. The people were too busy dancing hard and waving their cowboy hats in the air. LadyLee made her way through the crowd, and jumped up on the stage.

The music ceased.

LadyLee waved at the crowd. “How ya’ll doing tonight?”

No one said a word.

“Who are you, gal?” someone in the crowd yelled.

“I’m LadyLee… the Original Oldgirl!”

“Who gives a damn, ya nigra?”

“You should,” LadyLee said.

“We don’t allow no coloreds up in here,” the woman on stage said. She was standing there, staring LadyLee down, like she was ready to fight. She smoothed down her thin wispy hair. “You better get on outta here.”

“You must be Betsy,” LadyLee said. “Chele told me about you.”

Betsy eyes widened. “You know Chele?”

“Yes I do.”

“How is she?"

"She's just fine," LadyLee said. She looked out at the crowd. "She told me to tell you all 'Howdy Do!'"

"Howdy-Do!" the crowd replied in unison.

"Betsy, Chele wanted me to bring this.” LadyLee pulled a big wavy black wig out of the bag, held it high in the air.

“It’s Betsy’s special wig!” someone in the crowd yelled.

“I gave that to her as a souvenir after she sang here on this very stage,” Betsy cried. “She didn’t have to give it back.”

“Well she told me to bring it back.”

Betsy held out her hand for the wig. LadyLee snatched it out of reach.

“No, Betsy. Let me hold the microphone.”

“What?"

"Gimme the mike!"

"You gonna sang a song?”

Ladylee's face scrunched up. “Hell no. I ain’t singing. My name ain’t Chele.”

“Well what you want the mike for?”

“Don’t worry about all that,” LadyLee said. “Just give it to me.”

Betsy reluctantly held out the microphone. LadyLee snatched it up.

The crowd was so quiet that LadyLee had to squint past the spotlight’s glare to make sure someone was out there. They were there, but staring at her a bit too hard.

“I just have one thing to say….

"What's that?" someone in the crowd yelled

LadyLee took a deep breath and screamed into the microphone:

"Happy Birthday Chele!!!"

Betsy gasped. "It's her birthday?"

"Sure is!"

The crowd hooped and hollered. Betsy jumped up and down. The band started playing music again. Betsy grabbed another microphone and sang Chele's favorite Patsy Cline song "I Fall to Pieces".

LadyLee snuck off stage, still gripping the microphone, wig and paper bag in her hands. No one noticed. They were caught up in their relvery. When she got near the velvet curtain that separated the lobby from the club, LadyLee hit the mike with her hand, causing a squeak so loud that the whole crowd turned her way.

"I'm outta here!" LadyLee yelled into the mike.

"Tell Chele we said hello! And give me my wig, gal!" Betsy yelled. "Don't forget to leave my wig!"

"NO!" LadyLee screamed.

"What?" Betsy said. She frowned hard.

"I said hayle no!" LadyLee said. She reached down, pulled something out of the paper bag. "I have one more thing to say, though."

"You better say it, leave my wig, and then get the hell outta here, gal" Betsy growled.

LadyLee took a deep breath, raised her hand in the Celie crooked two fanger point and hollered:

"Obama/Biden '08!!"

LadyLee hurled a stack of Obama Biden '08 church fans high in the air over the crowd.

Then she ran like hell, snatching the velvet curtain down as she went.

"Get that Nigra!!!!!" Betsy yelled.

There was a loud ruckus, tables and chairs falling over, glass breaking, a bunch of cursing and yelling. LadyLee grabbed the money box from the table in the lobby and ran out the front door. She was running so hard that she ran right into a row of motorcycles, knocking them all over.

"Terry!!!!!! Open the car door, open the car door, Man!!!" LadyLee yelled as she weaved her way through the gravel parking lot.

He pushed the door open. LadyLee dove in. Terry took off, tires screeching and smoking as they tore off down the road.

LadyLee sat up. Terry noticed the awful wig in her hand.

"What in the world is that, LadyLee?"

"Betsy's wig!"

"I'm not even going to ask," Terry said.

"Chele said it would get me in the club. Belong to some chick up in there name Betsy."

"And you didn't give it back!?"

"Hell no! Are you crazy!? Chele told me to bring it back, not to give it back. Betsy can't have it back. It's Chele's special role play wig, and she wants it back as soon as possible."

*Terry looks at LadyLee with raised eyebrows*

"Ya'll are some crazy females!" he said. "Crazy indeed!"

LOL!!!! Yeah, uh.... that should make you LAUGH right there, Chele!!

Really though.

So with that... Let's get our virtual eat-on...

It's Friday! That means we're having a fish fry.

"Uncle Cre, pull the witch kettle out and fry this birthday girl right here some fish!!!!"




Yeah, that's good fish right there. Fried outside in hot grease like that?

Shoot, that's GOOD fish.

Got some snow crabs for you too!!!

And since you likes the fine wines, Chele, We DO have plenty of Australian Barossa Grenache, i.e., Bee-yotch on Ice..
Bitch on ice - so nice, so nice...

(You know, I should've sent you a bottle Chele!)

Yeaaaaah!!!

T'ain't no party like an Oldgirl party because an Oldgirl Party, don't... stop!!!

Happy Birthday, Chele! Make it a good one!

(Uh, with that black wig... I know you will.)