by Randy Johnson
Right from the gecko, I knew my relationship with Alice would be
a tough road to hoe. She was a dead wringer for an old flame I did
not want to remember. Alice was somewhat attractive, in a
dough-eyed sort of way and, although not the most ravaging phillie
to come down the pipe, her exotic features and acute smile peaked
my curiosity about her ethnic routes.
But Alice had a sorted past. Form any years, she had worked for her father who was a disgraced physician. His integrity was beyond approach (he was straight as a narrow), and he was generous to a vault. But although he attracted many well-healed patients, he did not do diligence. His bedside manor was ripe with faux paws, and his hot temper often caused him to blow a casket! His spear of influence soon waned, and he became something of a social leopard. After loosing his lively hood, he took his queue from Howard Huge and became a wreck-loose, remaining hold up in his home for the restive his life.
This ostrichism ultimately caused Alice her job -- with all its French benefits -- and she had serious trouble making ends meat on her poultry savings. In such dire straights, the winter weather turned out to be anticlimatic. She couldn't pay her heating bill, and when the Winchell factor fell below zero, she was forced to prostrate herself to keep away the whorefrost, and buy the most quintessential necessities. At one point, while hocking her wears on her front stoop, she hooked the fish mongrel who worked next store just for the halibut!
With her reputation in its death throws, a kindly ant paid Alice a curtsey call and -- upon seeing her uphauling situation of object poverty -- gave her some money to tie her over with, for which Alice was internally greatful. After buying her time in this way for at leased another year, Alice's father eventually dyed colorfully of conjunctive heart failure, and she inherited a fast fortune. This not only gave her a new leash on life but also provided her sudden ontray into high society, and she soon began rubbing the elbows of the likes of Aryana Huffington and her elk, who excepted her with open harms.
Her new found effluence and popularity gave Alice free range to flush out her hack-kneed business ideas, which ran the gauntlet from paper-view mud rustling to rot-iron gazebos. She tried in a half-hazard way to strum up support for these hairbrained projects, but it was a far-gone conclusion that all would be for knot and she would have to give up the goat and just make due with her emptied life. She bought herself a sports car, but when turning into an Indian food store, she failed to seed the raita whey to an oncoming truck, and wound up in quite a pickle.
It was at this junction that I met -- and was enchanted by Alice, in spite of her skits-of-phrenic personality. She still harbored oppressed and deep-seeded insecurities that wrecked havoc on her sulfa steam, and she was libel to be found in the mist of a trance, curdled up in the feeble position. This is what urned her the soul-briquette "Alice in Wonderland". Although it boarders on lunacy, I was enameled with her and just wanted to faun over her and help her exercise her demons.
But there was a flaw in the ointment: in my presents, she acted as if she would just assume not be there at all. She was skiddish and would bridal at my every show of affliction. Although she agreed to go out with me, she gave me short shift and took me for granite, a swell, expecting me to cowtow at her beckon call, like Pavlova's dog. For her, taking a vantage of me was like shooting fish in apparel. She was diluted into thinking that she still had her pulse on all things sheik and trendy. But this was only an allusory pigment of her imagination -- she had another thing coming! At one point, it donned on me that she might be star-craving mad! But I soon disguarded this idea, per say, and kept hole-hardily perusing her.
I am not adverse to beef-rending people who expouse different values, but Alice needed to reign in her callus, coal-hearted and pre-Madonna attitude before it really got my dandruff up. She had a pension for lamblasting me for having my own point of you. Nothing could curve her appetite for argument, nor interfear with her no-holes-barred attempts to ferment trouble between us. But the penultimate insult came when she honed in on my venerability and made a laughing stalk of me by telling a bear-faced lie! That went beyond the pail and the dye was cast! Another words, I refused to tow her line any more -- 'I minus well be alone', I thought. The invasive bird of love continued to allude my grasp.
I was flustrated and wanted to extract my revenge! It was her verses me, and I wanted to nip her in the butt. For all intensive purposes I read her the Ryan Act and I didn't mix words. But it was much adieu about nothing; she just through her arms around me with the upmost enthusiasm and laughed at loud! This only served to set a president and perpetrate a viscous cycle. Although I often as snot wanted to ring her neck, her will rained supreme.
Alice's bazaar and wreckless behavior never seizes to amaze me -- I could not escape her trawl, although our relationship was on tenderhooks. Needles to say, her sanity was a working progress and her continence in question. In a last stitch effort to illicit some respect from her, I took another tact. At Christmas time I served her a well-fortified eggnog, but she was lack toast and tolerant, and she came within a hare's breath of a seizure.
Eventually, she ran off with a railroad magnet and that was the parting of the waves for Alice and I. I later heard antidotal reports that she married a British land barren and became the Barrenness Alice, but they never had children. They were said to have taken a shore-term lease on some beach property in the Cannery Islands. It is with baited breath that we all a weight news of Alice's next ice capade.