Dear Dirty Diary
In the second week of October, a furnace inspector informed Louise we needed a new fuel oil tank and pointed out that the current furnace could never heat our attic apartment. A heating contractor quoted $15,800 for a new high efficiency unit with central air conditioning. The bed and breakfast income had been nominal at best for our first season so we had a situation on our hands. Neither Doug nor I wanted to forsake our spacious attic for the cramped but warm guest rooms on the second floor. We did some research and eventually discovered some propane-fired space heaters that would suffice. We couldn't expect Louise to pay for them out of her meager earnings, so my husband and I agreed to pay for the upgrades. Unfortunately all our investments were locket in and we really didn't have access to $6500 for the heaters and the hot tub we'd paid for on a credit card.
We discussed different ways to finance it, when out of the blue Louise suggested we produce CD copies of my dirty diary to sell. She felt that the accuracy and intensity of it all might appeal to women wanting something different to read, so we decided to give it a try. Doug however, suggested we contact a lawyer to find out the legalities of a project like this.
The consultation with the lawyer proved fruitful and the only thing he was concerned over was that Michelle and Amy still had part of this in my old computer. He suggested we obtain written permission from all parties depicted in my diaries. It came to me in a flash. We could host a reunion or something and get permission at that time. Thanksgiving was the initial thought but Halloween won out since a costume party and dance with free lodging would surely attract them all. We emailed everyone, received positive replies from absolutely everyone and set about planning our gala.
Decorating the outside would be no problem but doing up the basement would be a challenge and sleeping accommodations would be difficult. After much deliberation, we decided that the available beds, sofas and reclining chairs would suffice even if some local gals became too drunk to go home. By the middle of October the attic heaters and the new fuel tanks were installed and paid for on credit card. The house was cozy and tidy by the following week and we had only the decorations and snacks left to purchase.
On October 29, a car pulled up in the driveway and out popped Amy and Michelle. They brought costumes and decorations in plastic garbage bags, plus two bushels of apples and six bottles of hard cider wine from Archibald's as well as a huge fuzzy green Coleman air bed They moved all their stuff into the basement because they wanted to create a dungeon playroom down there.
Connie and Althea as well as Rija and her companion, Karla arrived the following day and moved into their old rooms. All afternoon the seven of us decorated outside. Every time we opened the cellar door, we were told to get lost by the Dungeon Rats who were denying everyone access to the hot tub and exercise equipment down there. Amy and Michelle finally came up for air in time when the Chinese takeout arrived at 5 pm.
We rushed through supper, dressed and by 6:30 we were ready for the Trick or Treaters. Michelle and Amy came upstairs dressed as pirates with bandanas, patches over one eye and sponge play swords from the Dollerama stuffed in their belts. Outspoken Connie was perfect as an obnoxious Octoberfest barmaid in her long full dress, billowy peasant blouse and her comic tart makeup. Aptly, Althea was dressed as a Tyrolean dancer, complete with hat, white shirt, leather shorts and lederhosen. I thought Rija's white lab coat with stethoscope and white pantyhose and her companion Karla's hospital gown and slippers could have been more original. But when Louise made her entrance dressed as Minnie Mouse I was definitely amused. When Doug stepped noisily down those two flights of stairs and ambled down the hall, that six and a half foot high, yellow-feathered, orange-legged Big Bird really unsettled me! I sashayed over to him and asked him if something was going on that I should know about. "Naw, we thought it would be fun to dress up just for you," said my husband.
Knocks on the front door signaled the onslaught of Trick or Treaters. The toddlers were so cute and some of their parents dressed up to accompany them on their loot collection rounds. By eight o'clock the stream of tykes had vanished, I presume to devour their booty. Suddenly vehicle doors slamming hinted that a new surge was about to besiege us. This time however, the knocks came from the side door where Louise ushered in two vanloads of revelers. The Richelieu River gals had arrived! Coats were hung up and it quickly became apparent they were identically costumed and were to be referred to as the "Bawdy Beekeepers". Ever one of them was wearing a Shoppers Drug Mart "West Nile Virus" mosquito suit. They were covered from head to toe in sheer brown netting and you couldn't tell one from another through their veiled headdresses. One thing I could tell, however, was that they all were completely nude underneath those suits! They said virtually nothing. Instead they buzzed amongst themselves in a peculiar little language only they pretended to understand.
As Louise and Connie herded them all downstairs, I heard a knock at the front door. Upon opening it a crack, a familiar voice said "Trick or Treat!" and into the light stepped Princess St. Regis, the boarder guard! She held out a loot bag and asked if there were any treats for a tired Mohawk princess. I let her in just in time for her to see Big Bird usher the last beekeeper down the stairs.
As I offered her a choice of candies, I asked, "How did you?"
"Find you?" she completed. She reminded me that I hinted at where we lived when I squealed away from the border crossing. "Besides that, your husband hand delivered an invitation to me last week," she added.
I couldn't believe that Doug would invite such a bitch, but after a few seconds I realized my encounter with her was in my diary too. "Actually I have a treat for you as well." She continued and handed me a plastic food bag. Inside I found a small videocassette tape and my screw-drill. "I thought it was the least I could do to make sure these didn't get into the wrong hands and cause untold embarrassment for you."
"So what's this all about?" Princess Small Hands St. Regis asked as she looked toward the cellar door.
"It's a small party amongst special acquaintances to kick off a fund-raiser," I answered with reasonable accuracy and then asked her if she'd like to join in.
I hung up her Customs jacket with the others. I took a deep breath and walked downstairs with my U.S. Customs agent, in full uniform, following me. As I stepped down the stairs, I saw a sea of candles! They were everywhere, flickering away in glasses and jars. I stepped cautiously onto the basement floor into the semi-darkness of the room. I saw constant movement but it took a good thirty seconds until my eyes adjusted to the dim light. I walked carefully around, searching for familiar faces but mostly I saw veiled heads.
Suddenly a flashlight lit up under the Connie's chin and she barked out, "Belly up to the Barmaid ladies, we've got enough grog to set us all on our asses!"
Connie handed me a small flashlight then looped what I thought was a lei over my head. But upon flashlight examination it appeared to be a small Dollerama water bottle on a string, filled with hard cider. In less than five minutes, everyone had cider and flashlights were spontaneously lighting up like mating fireflies all over the room.
I heard the side doorbell ring and zipped back upstairs. Lo and behold, four men stood there in full pirate regalia yelling out, "Trick or Treat!" The first one in, a middle-aged, tall and refined looking introduced himself as Hook with a swish of his huge captain's hat. The second, wearing a Harley Davidson bandana on his head to accent his gray moustache and beard, called himself John, even though he looked a little like Smee. Randy, a fresh-faced younger cabin boy just grinned as he lustfully eyed me sheer cat costume up and down. T.K., wearing a long-coat, eye patch and tight button-fly striped breeches, immediately perked up when he heard the lilt of feminine voices downstairs.
Assuming the four were Richelieu River Pirates we could have a little fun at the expense of, I welcomed them to join the party. As I ushered the guys downstairs, Enya sang "Caribbean Blue" through the speakers to the ghostly-lit feminine faces. The foursome clustered back-to-back in true Musketeer fashion under the spinning disco light. Firefly sparkles of all colors teased them with fleeting glimpses of breasts, bellies, bums and pussies peeking through sheer brown netting, feathers and lace.
When Louise gave Duffer a loathsome look from across the room, John said to me: "My friends and I have this guy's club where every week we dress up like pirates and sailors. We drink more than we should and swordfight as we sail up and down the Richelieu on a pontoon boat. When our blood pressure gets all up, we go home to pretend rape and pillage our women. For the last six weeks, the women don't want anything to do with us after our meetings. Tonight I saw my old lady, Sophie get all dressed up in that sexy brown suit. So I told the guys we should find out where our women have been going for the last month and a half. We followed them all the way over here from Phillipsburg to see what the hell's going on here and frankly we're all really confused. They tell us they're over playing Euchre and exercising but now we know they're full of shit!"
"Oh lighten up, you guys have your club evening and we have ours!" I explained.
Duffer returned, "OK, but how come none of them want screw after they get home anymore?"
"I guess they're all worn out from the drive, the card playing, the conversation and the exercising." then motioned Connie to give them something to drink, fast!
Connie, with her big soft breasts spilled out off her blouse and just kind of flopped there on her serving tray, reached around his neck and hooked him up with a booze bottle like the women. By the time Connie had the third pirate fixed up, refilled and content, they just stood there over against the furnace room wall, watched the women rage on, squealing, dancing and hugging "Cause girls just wanna have fun"!
I noticed St. Regis seemed a little confused by what she saw. Suddenly substantial tape hiss entered my ears. Immediately after, I heard Chris Isaak's signature guitar lick reverberate from the loud speakers. As always, I choked up and began to tear when "Wicked Games" echoed through the room. The mirrored disco ball in the center of the ceiling lit up and started to revolve, swirling pinpoints of light throughout the crowd. Out of the darkness sauntered Big Bird, who seemed to have grown a dangly ten inch long dildo-penis between his legs. He put one hand around my back, took my right hand in his left and led me into a slow, sultry dance.
