Tattle and Wrye - November 2009

FROM THE DESK OF

DONA PENZA TATTLE, ESQ.

AND

ASSOCIATE WRYE BALDERDASH

Greetings,

Wrye rolls his rrrs as he announces, "I am Count Wrryeula," and he recites lines from an old Dracula movie, “I bid you velllcome. Leesten is them. Cheeldren of the night... And how vould you know you vere in bed vith Dracula? Verrry interrresting. Maybe, the big D on his jammies. And vhy vouldn't you sleep, he-he, he-he, because of his... coffin?”

"Great costume," Tattle says, grinning under her half mask with the distracting feature of vibrantly-colored feathers, nearly neon in brightness, fanning out from either side of her head.

He turns, cape flowing like a black wave, then he stares at her but remains in character, "You arrre a... birrrd?"

Beak bobs in a nod, "That's cause I wanted to give out tweets last night on Halloween.

Wrye groans and under his breath he says, "A poultry-geist."

Tattle crooks a feathered arm, "Ready for our Love of Literature Leap?

Wryeula shows his fangs, hisses and the two fly off, wing in wing, bird and bat.

Tattle lands on her tail feathers in a fluff of down. Wrye shakes his head, saying, "Molting, maybe you need some scarrre spray."

"Ah, we're in JENNA LEIGH’S THE LAST LEGACY, Paranormal/Fantasy Romance in the land of mystical fantasy where Lilly Tremaine has just escaped the dominating hand of her mother by inheriting her aunt's estate, which allowed her to move to England."

Wyre stops humming the song, Another One Bites the Dust. "The estate is verrry old, any vamps, mysterious ladies of the night?"

"Oh no, m'batty friend, but there is a shape-shifting wyvern, Faelen, yummy to the nth degree of eye-candy, lickable, in whatever form he may come." She turns and winks. "He has special beasty powers, which translate into scooping her up, yes, yes, yes, and off to his world, where magical beings of every consideration exist, fly me there now!" She fans herself with a feathered wing, verklempt.

"Ah, she is instantly... mesmerrrized." A heavy brow lifts and eyes become slits. "Vutt is as sharp as a vampirrre's fang?" Long hesitation, purposely delaying, "His other fang. Lilly is a tasty morrrsel. I'd like to drink her blood, or at least dance a tango."

"No," Tattle says, prances, looking more the blue-hen chicken than the graceful bird-of-paradise, lost in the tale of Lilly.

"No tango?" With the stomp of a bullfighter doing his Paso Doble, he whips his cape and says, "She vill tango vith me."

"No... I meant, Lilly is exasperated with him but it is Faelen's job to protect all Tremaine females. Herrro!" Her tone goes up a notch accompanied by eye-fluttery admiration. "Conflict, of course, ensues, and all hunky Faelen wants is to grant her evvvveeeerrrry fantasy... twitter moment, tweet me." They feigned a flapping hug.

In true Bela Lugosi fashion, he peers over his caped arm and stares deeply, taking in several paragraphs at once. "She is soon attrrracted to him, and he continues to vant her, but... there is one who seeks their deeemise, he he he he he he he heeeee."

"Before there is plot-letting, we must leap."

"Verrry veell, m'Finchy Fowl."

Tattle lands on ballet slipper covered talons, grins as she reads the blurb before entering the story, MIS-STAKED by J. Morgan. Turns back and says, "Hurry, this could be great!"

Wrye hisses, hesitates, holds his ground, holds his water, holds his... we're not going there. "Stake! Stake! Stake everyvherrre and not a drrrop to eat! Yooou did not tell me thiiis book vas about a vampire slayer, hisssss."

"No worries, you should be laughing, showing off your pointers, this is a paranormal romantic comedy." She smiles and spins, channeling Doris Day.

He reads a little, his muscles relax, takes out a yo-yo, does a walk-the-dog, turns to Tattle and says, "Surprisingly seriously invvitting. Want to try my yo-yo? It's a Duncan'do not y'know."

She disinclined the trick though it was a treat, her head bopped like a woody-pecker nibbling seed, insect, and ash. (For all you naughties the type of tree is spelled correctly.) "Breathred E. Petrifunck, say that five times fast, a 35-year-old virgin, oops, lives in his father's basement, ya-huh, has a mail order diploma establishing himself as an authentic slayer, like who doesn't, a girlfriend, goodie-goodie for him, who has a dark mega secret she's not sharing, ooooo, and he has a familiar named Stud Lee Monkey, a talking chimpanzee... ooookay... Smilefest!"

"No way," Wrye states, stunned into momentarily dropping his Lugosi impersonation. The accent returns. "I see, therrre is a vampirrre prince who vishes to rrresurrect the mother queen vampirrre and he needs a thirty-five year-old virrrgin to do so. An old vampirrrest... vhat's pink, gray, wrinkly, and old and belongs to Vampa-Grandpa?" Aghast freckles Tattles face as she perceives naughty Wryeula but was Mis-staken as Wrye delivers, "Vampma-Grandma."

"This is a book circulating trouble and laughter."

"A bloody hoot-n-holler. I vish to stay and rrread more."

"No way, batty man, we gotta fly."

White light opens, they enter, "Verrry intrrriguing. I feel quite velcome here. Is this Transylvania, a terror-tory?" Wrye announces as he takes in the eerie home, its stuffed, dusty, armchairs and veined mirrors, enjoying its milieu. "Is this not GHOULISH LOVE by Michelle Libby, a contemporary romance?" He turns to Tattle and asks, "Vhat happens vhen I can't keep up my payment on my exorcise facility... it's repossessed! Hissssss."

She tugs at her thigh high, striped multi-colored sock that had fallen to her ankle. "Oh, yes, haunted houses can be so delightful this time of year. Boo-tiful. Can't keep this thing up, got any duct tape, if you can't fix it, duct it!" She found a rubber band which was adaptable as a garter. "Alas, Sierra not-the-desert Tibbets doesn't think so, though... though... though... In fact, having too many pranks played on her as a child, she does not like Halloween nor haunted houses. Party-pooper, although, still finger paint her eye-fetching."

Wrye plays with different menacing poses as if about to attack, faux fangs out, fingers curled until Tattle gives him a bird's eye peek-a-boo look. "Vhut... Then vhut is she doing here this evvenninng, and vith Nate Andrews, the very one who adores tormenting her. Vill there be sucking... blood?"

"Nate fancies her and he has this one night to win her trust. Prrresssure! They are in a contest to stay the entire night in this haunted house, winner gets 5,000 dollars, which Sierra needs to win for her sister... sibling bribery? I knooooww, not telling... Twick or tweet."

"I seee said the carpenter as he picked up his hammer and saw, despite their speckled past, she cannot deny the sexual attraction, weeeooo, and the two seem to be full of vit and vigor... viss and vinegar... bantering into... beeeed? Tell meeee, pleeeasssse!"

She spins that I-know-something-you-don't-know spin, gets dizzy and collapses, beak goes askew, and says, "Meant to do that. Here's a tease for Count Wryeula. Nate is here to do do do what he loves to do do do on the holiday he lovvves. And the wicked of it all despite her wanting to win is I suspect something more is brrrewing, wicked this way may come." She looks at Wrye and offers an exaggerated wink.

Behind Tattle, his eyebrows do a waggle. "Should we find out just vhat?"

"Later... Count Living Impaired get it... get it... get it... undead?"

"Don't spook until you're spooken to. Hisssss."

Hope you enjoyed! Next month we have many gifts to read just in time for the holidays, NOELLA'S GIFT by Donica Covey and ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS by Cindy K. Green and Julie Eberhart Painter's, MORTAL COIL.

Double-cheek kisses,

Dona Penza Rutabaga Tattle, Esq.

and Associate Wrye Balderdash

of Blather City, Wannachat

Created and written by

Angelica Hart and Zi

KILLER DOLLS ~ September 2009

SNAKE DANCE ~ February 2010

CHASING GRAVITAS (working title) ~ July 2010

Champagne Books

angelicahartandzi.com