Lana Turner Gives Me A Warning...

DAHLINGS –

Let me tell you a story.

A few nights ago, I was lying abed, in my usual wisp of chiffon, a scented candle made by Sarah Jessica Parker burning near the bed. Bucky was in his little dog bed, making soft woofing noises, presumably chasing a one-foot-high Andre Leon Talley in his dreams. I was in that mystic state between sleep and waking.

And then I heard someone softly calling my name. Thinking my assistant had locked herself in the armoire or some such, my eyes snapped open and I said, “WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

Standing before me, as beautiful as ever, was my dear dead friend Lana Turner!

She was in her spangled costume from “Dancing Co-Ed,” back in her red-haired days, and gazing at me with a disapproving smile on her lovely young face.

“Lana, dahling! How nice to see you, and without even a medium around!” I cried, sitting up. Bucky looked up, blinked, and went back to sleep. Dogs are overly pragmatic sometimes, if you ask moi.

“Oh, honey, I had to come. I’ve been watching you for a while.”

“Moi? Whatever for?”

Lana hesitated, and then said, “The way you treat your help. I mean, when I was alive I was plenty temperamental, and I fired my fair share of folks. But you—you’ve got to slow down! Soon you’ll simply run out of hired help! Even prisoners on work release wouldn’t work for you.”

I drew myself up, gathering my wisp around me. “I hardly think my attitude towards the idiots I hire is your business, my dear Mademoiselle Turner. After all, things have changed since your time. People don’t know their place.”

She shrugged her shoulders, sparkling slightly. “There’s something I learned about where I’ve been, honey. It’s called karma. Or as we used to say, what goes around, comes around. And oh, boy, do you have it coming around! When I was first at Metro, and I wasn’t a star, they worked me like a dog. School, acting lessons, dancing lessons, publicity—I didn’t have a minute free. That’s what you’re doing to your staff, and they don’t get to be movie stars in return like I did.”

“Merde,” I retorted.

Lana threw up her hands. “Okay, don’t listen. But you’ll see what I mean, if you know what I mean. See ya round the séance table!”

And with that she vanished. But I was later to learn exactly what she meant.

To be continued –

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog