Trollop Tales: Part 2

This business with the Trollop hanging around all the time is really getting on my nerves! Last night for the first time she invited some of her friends to the house for the cocktail hour. Not a good sign to my way of thinking that she feels so comfortable here as to actually invite her friends. But apparently the Mister was in acquiescence, so what could I do?

To set the stage, for music she asked me to put on some Vivaldi concertos for the evening, which gave me a somewhat but unsurprising shock. Most civilized people know that Vivaldi's generally relegated to breakfast music. His perky little concertos are so much better suited to waking up and facing a new day than trying to wind down in the evenings. Not to mention that all his concertos are so similar if not totally repetitive. In fact, I think it was Stravinsky who made the strident remark "Vivaldi didn't write five-hundred concertos, he wrote one concerto five hundred times!"

Anyhow, and getting back to the trollop, I positioned myself behind the bar - ready to mix drinks for the cocktail hour. But what cocktails? Her friends started asking for beer! Which we have plenty of by the way, the expensive varieties of course. And I might also mention that we plenty of elegant crystal beer glasses on hand.

However, as I opened each beer for the trollop's guests, each one would reach for it (without even a cocktail napkin) and start to drink it straight out of the bottle!

The only reason I didn't have a mild stroke was because I've seen this kind of aberrant behavior before of course - in bars, especially sports bars, and have done so myself in such environments. But this evening was the first time I've ever seen such a thing happen in this house. The Mister (being seventy-five and one foot in the grave) seemed to enjoy all the frivolity and fun for the evening, so who am I to judge this?

I checked with my spy confidant at the corporation and so far the Trollop hasn't been issued a credit card yet, as most long-term girlfriends receive. By way of comparison the former wife had the American Express Black Card, with a minimum spending requirement of $250,000 per year. Whereas the new girlfriends usually get a mere Visa or MasterCard that max's out at $5,000.

So it's somewhat comforting, at least to date, that the Trollop hasn't yet been issued her own plastic. We'll see what happens down the line. But drinking beer straight out of the bottle might very well give the Mister pause in going forward with this dalliance. Even in his dotage, he has his standards.

Thanks for dropping in this evening, and for any commiseration in this intolerable situation,

Andrew

 

Trollop Tales!

While watching the morning news with a leisurely cup of coffee in hand, Ester the Upstairs Maid sent this text: "When are you coming? I have some news!" She added a laughing emoji face so I knew it must be something fun.

Still in bathrobe I scurried over to the house where Ester was waiting impatiently. She waved me into the butler's closet where we share all our secrets, and she could barely catch her breath to say, "Before she left this morning I saw Senior take out his money clip and give her a handful of  bills!" And we both began to laugh!

She was talking about the new woman of course, the Trollop as we call her, who's been showing up a couple of times a weeks for the past few months. Somehow we've both instinctively thought she was a professional from the very beginning, and now there's eye-witness evidence involved. Here's some solid giveaways about her behavior:

1) New lady friends who have long-term designs upon the Mister always seem to leave things behind when they depart the next day; a bottle of perfume, a book, perhaps even some lingerie to start claiming their territory. The Trollop doesn't do any of this; she takes everything with her the next morning when she clears out.  

2) In addition, new lady friends always seem to quietly bring in framed photos of her and the Mister, again to claim territory I suppose, placing them discreetly around the house. No such thing is happening with the Trollop.

3) And last of all, new lady friends always try to suck up to me and other staff in some sort of way, to gain acceptance no doubt and get us on their side. Not only does the Trollop not do this, but she usually pretends she doesn't even see me. We did confront each other face to face in the garage one morning as she was leaving, and she stuttered something about "What a beautiful day". Never mind it was cloudy and starting to drizzle.

All of which is fine with me. As Coco Chanel said, "I don't care what you think about me, I don't think about you at all".

So there we have it. The Trollop really is a trollop! Although to her credit, I guess a high paid one at that. The Mister apparently keeps his small bills in his wallet, but the solid-gold money clip (as we've all seen on his bathroom counter) contains only hundreds!

I hope this wasn't too wasteful of your time, but I couldn't resist getting this news out!

As always, thanks for stopping by tonight,
Andrew