Champagne Book Group Blog: Tattle and Wrye

FROM THE DESK OF

DONA PENZA TATTLE, ESQ.

AND

ASSOCIATE WRYE BALDERDASH

Wrye enters and views the hanging paper Chinese lanterns and Tattle’s unusual garment, a Chinese cheongsam dress. “A party?”

“A celebration, my bewildered darling, of the Autumn Equinox." Pressing her hands together as if in prayer, she executes a perfect Chinese bow of respect.

"Lady of the Order of Befuddlement and Delay... shouldn't we have celebrated on September 22... The actual day of this year's Equinox?" He adjusts his knee highs and reconfigures the slit in his kilt for social propriety knowing no one wanted Johnny jump up to jump out.

Tattle tosses her head, bats her lashes and flips both hands up in the air. "What is a few days in the vastness of equinox-dom," she dismisses. "I have chosen to follow the Chinese tradition of celebration with tea and mooncakes.” She pointed to the table set with a ceremonial Oriental tea set and a plate of round, scallop- edged cakes. “And this is for you.” She shakes out a mandarin silk shirt with painted fish.

“Koi?” Wrye considering mooncakes wonders where the cake's butt was, butt (pun intended) didn't ask.

A clock chimes. “Oh my, we must jump into our Love of Literature Leap, treats will have to wait.”

“Koi... carp... crap?” Wrye repeats as they jump. "She could have gone dragon."

Tattle's ornamental hair chimes tinkle as she lands on traditional straw sandals. “We’re in DAVID BOULTBEE’S THE GENDER DIVIDE, a science fiction/futuristic novel, and where women live four times as long as men.” Four fingers prance in front of Wrye's eyes for emphasis.

“And where this can-you-believe-this gender divide has created political, economic, and military separations that threaten to destroy the world.” Wrye pats the hilt of a Chinese warrior’s sword, his gaze darting from side to side as if expecting Godzilla to appear. "Ancient saying, man who kisses woman's arse is bound to get shat-faced." Pulls sword and takes a warrior's stance.

Ignoring him, she adds, “All except for the hunkalicious Ryan Peters, he has a similar lifespan and will do anything, sacrifice all, even his life, to close this divide and mend his world.” She lifts her dress, shows specially ordered pink soccer cleats, and adjusts her soccer socks worn over shin pads, having come prepared for anything. “Ah, yes, he is a steal-your-breath-make-your-nips-pucker anomaly. It has already cost him the love of his life. Poor Ry Ry.” Tattle points to Olivia Morgan, CEO of Delphi, Inc.

Bouncing his well-embrowment, Wrye says, “What a Goo Wee Chic from the Sum Yung family," thinking himself being Chinese appropriate. "Even a second chance with her will not keep him from what must be done.”

“It appears they have a history together.” Tattle flips open a delicate Asian fan. “Here's the wrist slapping moment, he is deceiving her, making her think that the man she had been with years before was his father, not him. Smack! Smack! Smack! Plus, he’s going to work for Delphi, but for his own objective. Such trrrroubbble, certainly a tangled web.”

“Confucius say, ‘Lady who give kiss like spider, lead to the undoing of the fly.'”

“Wrrrrye!"

"Confucius also say, 'Man who make love with woman on top is always screwing up.'”

“Wrrrrrrrrrrrrrye!"

“Leap time, m'geisha sprite.” He re-sheaths his sword trusting Godzilla isn't near.

Tattle lands into another story, wobbles, women of zaftig-hipation do that, and looks for her literary comrade. “Wrye?”

Several minutes pass before he appears, wearing a Chinese brigandine, consisting of the vest, pauldrons, skirting, underarm, and groin codpiece, worn proudly, though far too large to be believable. “What?”

Noticing his genital adornment, she sniggers, and decides not to mention the change. “Where is a more apt question.”

“A hill…” Wrye grins. “Confucius say, ‘Man who make love to girl on hill, well, he not on level.’”

The bring-it-on-home eye roll appears. “Tattle say, we have leapt into LOVE COMES BLINDLY by PHYLLIS CAMPBELL, an historical romance taking place in an abbey, where the dashing Lord Gregory Fielding has been taken after being blinded in an accident. Gregory can't get a break, and we believe can't find a seeing eye dog. What a wonderful book.”

Wrye quips, "Confucius say, 'Man who read woman like book enjoy the climax best.'"

Tattle replies, "Confucius' extremely intuitive wife say, 'Kiss that speaks volumes is seldom a first edition.'"

“There is hope for Lord G. F.'s eyesight, but he soon finds himself falling for the novice nun nursing him back to health. Still blind and fumbling, yeah right, naughty boy, I suspect he inadvertently Braille-reads her chestual region as the number 13, perceiving she is tri-nipped unaware one's a button. Additionally, he doesn’t realize she is from his past. Connnnnfffflict!”

“Well, for Madeline it is an unsavory past that she has left behind, and she knows that once Gregg’s sight returns, he’ll recognize her as the woman who made a fool of him. Retribution bites!”

“So she fights her growing feelings for him because he’ll despise her on sight? And he fights his feelings for her because he thinks she's a nun? A potential tug of war to the square of infinity.” He waggles a shame-shame-on-them finger.

“Dui... true.” She bows, respecting his deductions. “But their passion sizzles hot, hot, hot as much as Gregg’s anger will once he discovers the truth. Yes, yes, yes... can't wait!”

“And…”

“And, time to jump.”

“Confucius say, ‘Man with athletic finger make broad jump.”

"What?!"

"Jump, Tattle, jump!"

Again, Wrye seems delayed, he appears, eating out of a carton of sweet and sour chicken with two No. 2 pencils as chopsticks. “This looks familiar,” Wrye mumbles, moving between freakishly awesome nouns and astonishingly profound verbs, spotting a dead man and backing away. “Ah, ANGELICA HART AND ZI’S KILLER DOLLS, a romantic suspense. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS DUO. I knew I recognized the majestically talented flow and play of words. They are good, almost as if family, very closely related family.” ;0 ;-) ;>)

“Such dear, dear, wonderfully dear friends,” Tattle acknowledges, and then blurts, “Oh, my, it’s the terrorist!”

Wrye draws his sword, taking an alpha position in front of Tattle while adjusting his codpiece, "Terrorize this!"

Tattle smacks Wrye in the back of the head. "Put that away."

Looking at her, not knowing what she is referencing, Wrye peers and speaks around a mouthful, “Vench and Vilgal, this is where they plot to use Letti Noel’s handmade dolls to attack the innocent with the deadly toxin, Ricin. I hate those &(*&^^%*)(*%$#*&!”

“Poor Letti, poor sweet adorable well-figured Letti, nor does she realize that the hunky Taut built-for-pleasure Johnson she is enamored with is actually an undercover FBI agent. Oh, goodness, not good at all!” Offers a sly qualifier, "Maybe, since I know him intimately, a little good, noooo, in his case a lot of good."

“Meanwhile, as he falls metaphorically into her, he realizes she is in danger, which brings back his past, damn, and a fear that he cannot protect those he loves. You gotta love the hero in him, and Letti certainly will."

“Then there’s the tainted dolls being presented, one by one, with love to young ones. Ouch, all riddled by pending fear. Another death? Yes. Whose? Ah-ha, mystery. And then there's a threat to their own lives. Hope Taut 'Big Gun' Johnson brought his big gun.”

“All way too much to endure.” Wrye grabs his cell phone and begins dialing 911, "Yes, this is Wrye Balderdash in the pages of KILLER DOLLS, I wish to report a crime... I'll hold!"

With a sigh and head shake, Tattle soccer-slide-tackles Wrye, knocking the phone from his hand, collects it and says, “Like Star Trek, our mission during our Love of Literature Leaps is to follow the non-interference Prime Directive. 'kaaaaayyyyy! Which leaves the question, will they survive?”

“Confucius say, read and find out.”

“Actually,” Tattle begins as she snares one of Wrye’s pencil-chopsticks, “Confucius say, ‘He who eats with one chopstick go hungry.’

Wrye looks at her and quips, "A woman who boils cabbage and peas in same pot is unsanitary."

"On that irreverent thought, let's go home!"

As they leap, Wrye's words echo, "I want you... to read KILLER DOLLS!"

Fabulous journey. Next month, in the wake of Halloween, we will visit chilling delights. JENNA LEIGH’S THE LAST LEGACY, MIS-STAKED by J. Morgan and GHOULISH LOVE by Michelle Libby. Join us!