Miss Cricket says: We've been getting a lot of questions recently about stepchildren, so I thought we’d do a segment on how to best nurture stepchildren. Now Madame Python and I have never had stepchildren respectively, but some of our friends do.
Madame Python says: I had stepchildren, Wicket.
Miss Cricket: You did? I don’t remember that.
Madame Python: Dennis had two children, the little snots.
Miss Cricket: Whatever happened to Dennis? If I remember correctly, that didn’t last long. Did it have anything to do with the stepchildren?
Madame Python: No, it had to do with Vasily. I met him on a retreat on the Crimea. He spoke Russian to me.
Miss Cricket: What did he say?
Madame Python: It didn’t matter.
Miss Cricket: Oh, yes, I know what you mean about Russian. It’s a delicious language – like dark chocolate. One time I was at a party in the Soviet Embassy in Prague and a man started talking to me in Russian. His eyes were grey. [sigh] His face was rugged like a mountain side and his voice made my knees go weak.
Madame Python: But you were obviously married to Ed at the time.
Miss Cricket: Oh, yes. It was because of Ed that we were there. I was never more in love with Ed. Beautiful city, Prague. You can walk across the bridge where Mozart walked; be annoyed at the same geese that probably annoyed Mozart. But just because you are in love with your spouse, it doesn’t mean your biology is somehow shut off. Nothing wrong with my marriage, but also nothing wrong with that man’s Russian.
Madame Python: Well, what happened?
Miss Cricket: What do you mean what happened?
Madame Python: What happened between you and that grey-eyed Russian wolf in Prague?
Miss Cricket: Well, nothing happened, obviously. I thanked him for the nice conversation, moved off to a different part of the room, and made sure never to speak to him again. Obviously. Dare I ask what happened in the Crimea?
Madame Python: Vasily not only spoke Russian, but he had a Ferrari.
Miss Cricket: Oh, dear. Not sporting.
Madame Python: The moment he started speaking to me, I knew he was the owner of the Ferrari. Did you ever go flying along the cliffs above the Black Sea in a Ferrari with a Vasily, Wicky? I recommend it.
Miss Cricket: And Dennis?
Madame Python: Poor Dennis. I had to be mean to him so he’d ask for a divorce.
Miss Cricket: This is the definition of cruel, Py. You should have told him.
Madame Python: No, the definition of cruel would have been to tell him. I loved Dennis. To tell a man like Dennis to his face would have crushed his spirit. I couldn’t do that.
Miss Cricket: So you just broke his heart?
Madame Python: He was better off without me, Wicky.
Miss Cricket: No man who falls in love with you, Py, has ever later said the he was better off without you. It didn’t happen.
Madame Python: Well, at least I didn’t have to see the faces of those little snots at breakfast any more.
Miss Cricket: Okay then, this brings us to the end of this particular segment on stepchildren - beautiful creatures that they are. Any last words, Py?
Madame Python: Viva la Ferrari!
Miss Cricket: Evvia per Volvo.
Madame Python: Гласность! Glasnost!
Miss Cricket: до свидания. Do svidaniya. Until next time.
Copyright 2013, Elizabeth Cricken, All Rights Reserved
image credit: by sijeka; flickr
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