Death of a Bachelorette

by Laura Levine

  In happier news, Spencer’s mummy, the Countess of Swampshire, has been dating a fabulously wealthy cement manufacturer from New Jersey, so the Swampshire family fortune will be resuscitated after all.

  I still can’t believe I’d been so fooled by Polly. She’d seemed like such a sweetie, didn’t she? And by the way, that gun she threatened me with at the waterfall? A prop she’d taken from the prop shed. Minus any bullets! All that heart-stopping terror at the edge of the falls, when I could have just made a run for it!

  It turns out Manny decided not to shoot The Real Mothers-in-Law of Miami Beach. Instead, he went with The Real Housewives of Paratito—all about Konga and his eleven wives. Which turned out to be the surprise hit of the season. And the most popular character on the show? Suma! Standing before the camera, Suma let her true self come shining through, and now that trash-talking, harpoon-wielding mama is a reality TV sensation! Flush with her newfound success, she divorced Konga, moved to L.A., and last I heard, was dating a wrestler named The Undertaker.

  Konga, although having lost his first wife (along with another tooth), has found himself two delightful new brides, Svetlana and Olga, from an online Russian dating service.

  And you’ll be happy to know that Akela the maid moved all the way from Paratito to Downers Grove, Illinois, and is now working her dream job as a taste tester at Sara Lee.

  Here in Hollywood, Justin, the wunderkind director, got fired from the remake of All About Eve (his unorthodox casting choices turned out to be a bit too unorthodox for the studio) and is now maneuvering his way through the mean streets of Tinseltown as an Uber driver.

  In the strange bedfellows department, you’ll never guess who Dallas wound up marrying. Ari, her lovestruck jailer! Ari moved to Texas, sold the recipe for his coconut rum drink on Shark Tank, and is now worth millions.

  As promised, Dallas wrote a book about her days in captivity, which is now being made into a TV movie. And guess who’s starring as Dallas? None other than our guy-turned-gal Brianna! Who, rumor has it, is dating Blackbeard, the cameraman.

  As for me, never in my life was I happier to return to my beloved apartment. I spent my first day home soaking in a cool tub, scarfing down Chunky Monkey and chilled Chardonnay.

  I stayed furious with Lance for a good two weeks for killing my Boston fern and ruining my Corolla, but he finally wormed his way back into my good graces with a series of heartfelt apologies, emoticon valentines, and daily boxes of Krispy Kreme donuts.

  And good news about the Corolla. Suma, who, as I mentioned, has moved to L.A. to be near The Undertaker, thundered over to Senor Picasso’s and had a word with the good senor on my behalf. (Now that she no longer sees me as a threat, she’s actually been quite nice to me.) Anyhow, after three minutes with Suma, Senor Picasso caved like a wet noodle. The Corolla’s been painted white again. No charge.

  As for Prozac, she’s thrilled to be home, lolling in the breezes from my open window. And yet, every once in a while, I catch her staring down at the floor wistfully.

  I think she misses Godzilla.

  Well, gotta run. Her royal highness needs her back scratched.

  And I need a Krispy Kreme.

  Catch you next time.