Gone with the wind…version 2… 2011.
The story so far….
Scarlett o’hara…has been teleported into the 21st century, still wearing her mourning clothes after Melanie’s death.
Rhett walked out on her…she sits on the front step raising her tiny fist and declaring "Tomorrow is another day"…she wasn’t wrong. It’s another day all right. April 7th 2011 to be precise…we begin…
“Oh Rhett…Rheyat..I will win you back…I must!”
Stranger walking past… “Say what?”
“I don’t talk to strangers.” Says Scarlett indignantly.
“Too busy talking to your sweet self eh, Lady?”
“You sir are no gentleman.”
“Say what? Me?…Sure I am lady. I always ask permission before mugging someone.”
“Mugging?” Says Scarlett perplexed.
“Yeah…mugging. You know, when I take what you have and share it around.”
“You Sir, are a carpetbagger. I will not speak with you. Leave.” Says Scarlett in temper.
“Say what? Man, where you been woman? What’s with the carpetbagger crap, you from Chicago or what?”
“A Northerner, me. No…how dare you insult me so!”
“Say who? Whoa, woman…you could get your sweetself into a whole mess of shit with that attitude. Mind you I do like em sassy, but the whole steampunk look don’t do it for me. You need new threads girl, know what I’m saying, and you surely need a whole new way of talkin’.”
“You are rude. Insufferably so. I don’t begin to understand what it is you are talking about. Now leave, or I’ll have my servants see you off my property.”
“Say what?…Servants? Who do you think you is woman..Oprah?”
“Oh my…I feel faint.” Says Scarlett feebly, clutching at her corseted, laced in, tied up, can’t breath, unripped bodice.
“You needin’ a hit, woman?”
“Oh do go away you dreadful man. If Rhett were here he’d make you sorry you were born.”
“Whoa, you know my man Rhett?”
“He’s my husband!”
“You got to be shittin’ me!”
“Oh the language, I feel faint again!”
“Man, no wonder Rhett hangs at the brothel. Sister Belle sure is a better deal than what he has here.”
“He’s with Belle Wattling?”
“It’s cool, woman. He goes there to play the tables, not lay the ladies.”
“Oh, you crass man. You wouldn’t talk like that if Ashley were here. Ashley is a gentleman.”
“Oh, Ashley Hamilton…he cool. He gay, but he cool.”
“Gay? Well yes he always was the life and soul of our Sunday gatherings at Tara.” Says Scarlett reminiscing.
“Woman, I don’t know what shit you’re on but I gotta get me some. Tara? Where the hell is that?”
“Why it’s my home. It’s so beautifull, and we had it restored after the war.”
“War? What war?”
“Oh my…the war with the North of course.”
“The North who…? We ain’t fightin’ Canada, last time I looked. President Obama wouldn’t get us into nothin’ like that?”
“President who? What happened to President Lincoln?”
“Now I know, you’re shittin’ me.”
“Sir! I will not tolerate your language!”
“Well screw you lady. I gotta better things to do with my time than to spend it conversationin’ some whacked out steampunk dressin’ female who talks to herself.”
You get the drift…to be continued as the Alphabet permits.