Aachoo Voo, Private Eye
Episode Two
Upper Crusty In Voo Bayou
Lance was cool. He didn't bat an eye. (Well,
actually, he did but he always did that for effect.)
"I'll be back," he said softly. "You know, you really
are hard on a guy. This is the third pair of pants I've
lost at your place." And I blushed, remembering
the jelly incident and the slamming the door on his
pants leg incident and the...well, that was enough
remembering for now.
Like I said, me and laundry just didn't get along.
Maybe it was all that innate rebellion stemming from
childhood and the fact that gathering up dirty clothes
to wash had been a hated chore. There had been
several years of my childhood in Louisiana and after
we had moved back to New York when we had been
practically penniless but my mother would kill me
if I told anyone that so I won't. After the passing of
my Grand- Ma-Ma Paramore (yes, I had to say it
like that....Muh-Ma) because it was "upper crusty"
like she was, we were no longer penniless. My father
was a proud man and didn't especially want to be
anything other than a pipe collector and Vice President
of a non-descript company that didn't actually have a
President and no one, including my father, knew exactly
what it was that they did there. (And when he retired, no
one showed up or gave him a gold watch.)
But Muh-Ma left us a fortune and my mother
was over the moon. No more laundry after that. No
more chores. We had upper, lower and in-between
maids. We had a butler. We were filthy rich! (Well,
rich but scrupulously clean.) So very, very clean. It
made me sick. I missed playing in the swamp and
jumping in mud holes. I missed the South. (Except
for the mosquitoes.)
Most of the time I just gathered the clothes up and
threw them in the furnace but there came the day
when my dad was late for work and couldn't find
a thing to wear and my jig was up. I was grounded
for a month and my mom made me learn to sew and
make all my own clothes for the rest of the school year.
(I think MiMi talked her into that just to see if she
would do it. Told her it was a Voo family tradition and
that "the child had to learn at least some of the
Voo Ways" in order to inherit the much bally-hooed but
mysteriously secret Voo Fortune hidden in the swamps
and rumored to be part of the legendary treasure of
pirate, Jean Lafitte.
And to the old lady's ever lasting amazement and
playing on my mother's greed and love of all things
monetary, she did it.. My father kept insisting that
it was just an old trunk full of Confederate money
and his baby teeth but she wouldn't believe him. So,
he kept silent finally but he smiled a lot when she
wasn't looking.
It was not a pretty story. Most of the time,
I went around looking like the scarecrow from the
Wizard of Oz. Which was an embarrassment,
especially to my mother because she was born into
high society and despised the lower classes which
included her in-laws. We were in a class by ourselves,
of course, but still, that particular punishment
backfired on her and she tried to keep me out of the
public eye as much as possible.
My Dad thought it was a terrible thing for her to do
because he adored me and kept slipping me money
to "Go buy yourself something pretty." But I saved
up to buy myself something I would really need in the
future. It was my junior year and I sneaked out to the
Ayers' Used but Lovely Resale Shop and bought myself
a prom dress that didn't have discernible stitches and
upside down zippers and told my mother that I had
made it with my own little fingers. But I digress.......
(It was an interesting year.) MiMi had gotten her
revenge at last and never let "The Lady of The Manor"
forget it! Of course the way she pronounced the word,
it came out sounding more like "Manure."
The parrot snickered at me as the side door closed and I
snickered back and turned on the radio to drown him out.
I noticed the water in the fish tank was mysteriously low
and the fish were kinda gasping for air and had drawn
little frownie faces in the algae. I refilled the thing,
threw in some fish food, erased their artwork and
went to get the mail. I was looking for a check from Big
david, the mobster who spelled his name with a little d.
I had done some work for his sister and he'd promised
to send me some moo-la. I didn't much like his kind but
his sister Prudence was nice enough. The case concerned
her cheating husband Ricky and the fact that he had
gone on vacation with her worst best friend after cleaning
out the bank account. I found the two louses on the beach
in Mexico.
I had actually found them on my second day there but
didn't report back to Prudence until eleven days had
passed. I needed a vacation and the lovebirds needed
to get all that pent up passion out of their systems
before Big david shot 'em. I thought that was the least
I could do. Neither one of them had two brain cells to
rub together. He was short and she was tall. He was an
accountant and she was no account. They were perfect
for one another. The check was not in the mail.
I picked up the newspaper and noticed a handsome face
on the front page. It looked vaguely familiar. Very familiar,
actually. Said the face had been found murdered the night
before by a night watchman on his rounds at Marshall's
Hardware and Hat Emporium. That was where I bought
all my furniture refinishing products and the occasional
hat. No wonder the face looked familiar. It belonged to
Si, the Shellacking specialist. A talker, if there ever was
one. A fairly nice guy but there was something about his
shifty eyes that gave me the shivers.
He flirted with you from the time you walked in the door
until you bought twenty five cans of Shellac and then
insisted upon delivering the purchase to your place of
residence. All the time trying to impress you with his
extensive knowledge of wood and how to care for it. He
looked like a would-be movie star but there was just
something......you couldn't put your finger on it, no
matter how hard he tried to get you to put your finger
on it.....you just couldn't. Like I said, he had shifty eyes.
They darted. They looked you up and down. Undressed
you and dressed you again in satin.
I shuddered remembering the last time I'd seen him.
That would have been last Saturday. I needed to strip
my neighbor's old chest that he had been nagging me
about and I was all out of sandpaper and stripper
and had run in to the store that afternoon hoping
someone other than Si would be behind the counter.
No such luck. "Well, hello there, you good looking,
thirst quenching, pretty polished piece of fine furniture!"
he said exuberantly as I stepped inside "How may I be of
service?" And I blanched. At least I think I did. I'm not
really sure what blanch means but it sounds appropriate.
"Just need a few items, thank you." I said as coldly
as I could manage but it didn't put him off. He was on
me like ugly on a baboon's bottom. Came out from behind
that counter, took my arm and led me back to where we
usually ended up, the Tung Oil aisle.
"Listen, Miss Voo, I need help and you're the only one
that can help me!" he whispered urgently as he looked
around to see if anyone was near. I didn't think much
about it at the time because he always said that to me
but thinking back now, it was pretty obvious that he'd
actually meant it. I just hadn't been in the mood to help
him. Now he was dead. The paper said he had been found
in a pool of paint thinner. He wasn't wearing any socks.
He'd been clutching a folder full of receipts and a
corkscrew. I felt bad. Not bad bad but pretty bad. I
wondered who had killed him and why.
I also wondered if I'd been the only girl he'd sold
Shellac to and flirted with so relentlessly. I wondered if
he'd just flirted with the wrong girl this time. On the other
hand, he'd probably been married, guys like him always
are no matter what they say or how hard they try to hide
their missing wedding band tan lines with furniture polish.
You could always tell. It had been the wife, I was sure of it.
Too bad. He was a doll dizzy creep but he sure knew his
wood grains.
I shook my head and put the paper down and went to
change out of the pink bathrobe. I had twelve of them
hanging in the closet. Pretty soon I'd need to replenish
my supply. I hoped they still carried my size and style
at the bathrobe shop. I had bought up their entire stock
last time I was there. I told them I was buying them for
gifts. (It was none of their business.)
I threw the soiled pink robe into the trash and stood there
naked looking for something jazzy to put on. I had a
movie date with Andy at four. He was sweet. I liked him
and he liked me. We had been out twice and neither time
had I set him on fire or tripped him with my long legs or
turned his clothes into rags. I was the epitome of grace
with him and it felt wonderful. Yes, I was looking forward
to this afternoon's matinee and the smell of popcorn and
aftershave.
and his untimely demise and giggled happily as I put on
my hose. Then the phone rang. And I heard the bird in the
kitchen say, "Pick up the phone. What am I, your slave?"
Stupid bird. "Answer it yourself!" I shot back and fell in
a tangle of hose and garter belt and a box of bath powder
and an open bottle of turpentine that came down from the
counter at the same time that I did. Well, at least I didn't
have on socks when I got into the shower this time.
TO BE CONTINUED......in Episode Three
👇
Various photos of my mother taken throughout my
childhood. She always seemed to be stunned when
looking at me or hearing my answers to her questions.
I can't imagine why. And after the incident with my
brother and my surprise birth, she just lost interest in
having more children altogether. (Much to MiMi's
chagrin, who unbeknownst to anyone, kept putting
Cajun fertility potions in Mother's coffee and beignets in
the hopes of having a big brood of bebettes running
around. But it didn't happen so my grand-mere
spoiled me wonderfully and hopelessly rotten.)
Nevertheless, she dressed me up like a baby doll,
had hundreds of portraits taken and/or painted of
me, made me stand in the corner when I sassed her
in Cajun and played with me occasionally until she
couldn't stand me anymore. I loved her but I was fou fou
about my MiMi! She's the one who named me Aachoo
(behind my mother's back.) People always made fun of
it but I thought it was funny and told them it was just
a Cajun word that meant Your Majesty. When I was
seven, MiMi told me the whole crazy story and how
she had almost named me Cayenne.....(Ki-yan in Cajun)
(As in Ki yan pepper) Ki-yan Voo....Heaven help me!!!!
(Baby Aachoo Voo Voo)
(topless....don't look!!!)
but obviously she had had enough. Oh, wait!
That was the day I burned up her silk negligee
from Paris!!!! Ah, yes. Now I remember......
💖
And here is my dear ole Dad. Always calm. Always
the gentleman. Always quietly terrified out of his
mind of the womenfolk in his life.......
💥
"the palm tree dress" She loved it.
He hated it. (He slipped me some moola to
throw it in the furnace) He was happy but
my hinder parts still hurt from that spanking.....
💕
Aachoo Voo's parents are being played
The happy young couple before my brother was born
and before they were forced to move to Louisiana.
My mother was never the same. And neither was
Louisiana.......
by Phyllis Calvert and John McCallum
(based upon my friends Patricia Paramore
and John Smith from myspace and friendburst
whose photos I have misplaced.)
ALSO STARRING
in our cast of characters........
friends from myspace and other sites
friends from myspace and other sites
and personal friends and family members
david, Si, Lance Strait, Voo, Andy,
the fish and the un- named parrot
david "qzert" from myspace
and............
Richard Bellamy as Big david the mobster
from Myspace...................
Craig Stevens as Si, the Shellac salesman
Andy of myspace land
The Last Digital Bastion
The Last Digital Bastion
Ray Milland as young Andy
special note of thanks
to the following for use of their names:
***Ayers and Marshall** (Rusty and Linda)
and Prudence