The Tale of Tellytubby and the Talisman

(an arbitrary palaver about easy accessibility to a Liberal's sensitivities; and "lover's revenge")

The Tellytubby was a widowed but robust MILF who ran on Ritalins and who had a penchant for idle gossip as well as a weakness for watching too many Days Of Our Lives Telescreen soaps when she should have instead been living.

The Talisman, or that personage who was in fact no more than a mental projection of Tellytubby's cheap gold-plated trinket, was a darker, more brooding stranger; in fact he was nothing more than a petty manipulator of the heart who'd enter into Tellytubby's life like a thief in the night whenever the convenience suited him, normally for little other than for pure unadulterated male sexual gratification that always seemed to inevitably result in polite, but empty company (a power-fixation thing over females which just about all the male animal-species, including sharks, spiders, birds and insects, suffer from) until these biweekly-occurring escapades became even too boring for the Talisman to endure and so the whole boy-meets-girl thing eventually fizzled out, like what happens to amateurishly-prepared braaaivleis socials ill-improvised by boring suburban bourgeois couples for their "nothing-better-to-do's" on typically-rainy September-Saturday nights.

But, like most silly break ups they don't always just end there. There seems oftentimes to persist some kind of amorigor mortis for revenge, a sordid death-knell like a deep-throated love-gargle, which emanates from one or the other parties involved, and it is normally embroiled in bitterness tainted with nasty sneering and a dollop of cruel words to boot. It'll often start with exchanges in meanness, snide comments muttered over the shoulder about the other, and, if allowed to run amok, these "lover's hangovers" will overflow into quite twisted bickerings followed by verbal bitch-slap matches, until the saner of the two just laughs it off, walks away and tries to continue on with the business of breathing normally.

But it wasn't to be with our Tellytubby. So instead, Tellytubby, with her infinitesimal propensity for minutiae and all things insignificant and petty, coupled with a near-desperate need to seek out some perverted justification to back up her pathetic situation for which she was long the moral loser anyway, Tellytubby had to resort to summonsing The Landlord, not once, not twice, but FOUR TIMES! - in a vain attempt to burn and destroy her Talisman... for the crime he'd committed of calling her a... - wait for it - ...a Tellytubby! Which is EXACTLY what she was! - and still is today, this very moment as I tell you this tale! For what other name is there for a goose-livered, coming onto middle-aged widowed woman who leads a life so mundane and boring that it cannot see its days through without a solid twelve hours of Telescreen-fixation, sugar-coated with idle chit-chat and ingested with hastily-scrawled scripts of Ritalin tablets, illusionary cures for misspent days and enthusiastically prescribed by none other than some profit-mongering quack!

Even the brain of the most adept voyeur in lover's quarrels would boggle at the sheer morbidity of poor lil' Miss ugh formerly MISSUS Tellytubby's entirely self-induced fate!

Now, The Laws of Logic, Cause and Effect, and Common Sense all bundled into one are completely squashed formless like a large blob of rancid baker's dough when we examine under the biologist's microscope the motives for Tellytubby's passionate vengeance on her Talisman. Aha! But it gets even more pathetic than that! So The Landlord, that vestige of authority so revered by anyone who values having a roof over his or her head, He steps in as unwelcome third party to pay a visit to ol' Talisman to discuss with him this matter of affairs in amorous slight, for in this desperate gesture Tellytubby had supplanted  her last option for vengeance as she, now wallowing in mourning over her state of scorn, had used up all avenues of spite reserved exclusively for her Talisman - as if poor ol' Talisman had bugger all right to opine in ANYTHING in the matter - this same Talisman who by now had begun to revel in mocking delight at Tellytubby's woeful plight in ill-conceived sentiment masquerading as, and unwittingly mistaken for, that ridiculously over-rated idea called romance.

Ah for crying in a bucket! Some females amuse the living daylights out of me.