Sybil Bruncheon's "What Ever Happened To???.... LADY ELAINE FAIRCHILDE??"....

True Story! Lady Elaine Fairchilde from "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood" fame fell on fairly hard times after the passing of Fred Rogers and the end of the series. Her drinking problem had been obvious for years, even to the pre-K crowd. Children who visited the set complained that Fairchilde "smelled funny" and would say strange words ...backwards. Her on-air make-up had become more erratic or non-existent, and her complexion began to be more disturbing and even repulsive. At one point, an unruly stagehand pinned a large picture of Karl Malden on her dressing room door with a note stating that her "twin brother" was coming for a visit! The cast was very excited until it was revealed that it was a prank....and that Karl Malden in fact was prettier. 

Fairchilde was often claimed to be the illegitimate child of J.P. Morgan and Carry Nation.... After the series ended, she offered to do after-school recitals and safe-sex shows for grade schoolers using poodle-balloons and confetti guns, but the U.S. Department of Education barred her for life from appearing within a 100 yard radius of any school ....even obedience schools for pets.... She now lives quietly in The Screen Actors Retirement Home For Novelty Performers & Actresses Made Out Of Alternative Materials. She is estimated to be 118 years of age, but only because a tree surgeon counted the rings in her leg when he reattached it after her drunk-driving accident last year. She enjoys collecting paperweights with embedded insects, reciting haikus about crumbled leaves, and baking cookies for The Paul Bunyan Trade School Fair. Her boomerang has been confiscated….permanently. 

(postscript: This bulletin just in. It appears that Lady Elaine Fairchilde may have had a checkered past as a young…er…woman, whatever, in Hardscramble, North Dakota. It seems she was an inveterate shoplifter of discounted lip sticks, rosacea concealers, spackle, and Crayola crayons at the local Woolworth’s and spent much of her teen-age years in the Fargo Reformatory for Inconsiderate & Disquieted Ladies. After her release at 21 years of age, she began a downward spiral of abusing alcohol and/or drugs, possibly absinthe, mescal (including the worm!), and crème de menthe either drunk or snorted along with crack cocaine, heroin, and Lemon Pledge.)

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Sybil Bruncheon's Weekend Wonder-Stories.... "WHAT MARY-JONELLE HAD TO HEAR!"...

Rex was selected by the other pets to break the news to Mary-Jonelle at the next tea party. It was their usual Friday afternoon get-together, so it seemed all very spontaneous, but the animals had decided that they were going to let her have it! ...that things really had gone too, too far! And so, as Rex made the usual announcements about theatre outings, potential ski-weekends, bake sale dates, and flower arranging classes, everyone but Mary-Jonelle tensed up for what was coming next...

What would she say? What would she DO?...Would she run to her parents and tattle on all of them?? Rex paused after a particularly funny little anecdote about jonquils which brought an appreciative chuckle from everyone including Mary-Jonelle, and then he began... Later on, as she dried her tears in her fine linen napkin, she realized they were all correct about the situation, and that she needed to know the truth. And all of her animal friends were very relieved that she had taken it so well. Both Mittens and Mrs. Whiskers agreed that she was quite mature for a 5 year old, and Tum-Wiggle complimented her on how articulate she was… for a human.

At that point, Mary-Jonelle sat up straight in her chair and offered to pour another round of tea for the group as the family butler came in to see if everything was alright. He noticed that little Miss Mary-Jonelle might have been crying and asked if he could do anything, but she smiled with great composure, and dismissed him lightly with a wave of her tiny hand and a gracious, "Thank you, no, Mr. Carruthers!"... and that was that. Rex was very proud of her... and everyone commented on how tasty the butter-biscuits were...

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The George Sweet Doorway Mysteries - "A CHILLY RECEPTION"...

...little Marky Patterson had been such a responsible child ever since he first walked and talked. His parents were suitably proud of him, and he impressed all their friends at dinner parties with his perfect manners and sober answers about how school was going, what sports he was playing, and what science project he was preparing for the National Young Scientists Of Tomorrow Fair. Here he was at only 8 years of age, and he was competing against juniors and seniors in high schools from all over the country. Marky had one disadvantage; he was interested in so many different sciences... from astronomy to biology, chemistry to geology....it all fascinated him. Finally, though, it was his Uncle Herb who swayed his decision.

Herb Destren was a popular and personable weatherman with a huge following, especially among the large farm community that depended on his accuracy and his famous predictions that would seem to be at times risky or even far-fetched, but invariably proved to be exact! He himself had studied privately as a teenager under a meteorologist who had no connection with a university. But of course, meteorology as a scientific pursuit had come fairly late to the world of academia, so it had started out as more of a tradition passed on from generation to generation. Marky's uncle told him that he would take the youngster to meet his old mentor at his home out in a remote part of the Cabler Woods. His name was Professor Dexter, and whenever Herb said his name, Marky could see his Uncle's eyes sparkle and hear his voice almost hush...

Herb picked Marky up in his old woody station wagon, still running after years and years of knocking around the countryside, and they drove for an hour or so through open expanses of prairie, hills, small villages, and finally dusty backroads. Marky dozed off for a while, waking and dozing, until his uncle whispered to him and placed a hand on his knee, shaking him gently. His eyes were wide and dark with excitement, and he reached over and opened Marky's door telling him to get out of the car while he parked around the back side of the house that was nearly buried in huge bushes and thickets of trees. The sun was setting behind the woods and the light was beginning to fade. Marky carefully closed the door, and watched as his uncle drove down the gravel drive and turned behind a stand of blackened tree trunks all huddled together. The motor of the car seemed far away...and the trees looked like they were watching him… and nodding… slowly. But there was no sound…. And no wind. The air seemed to be standing perfectly still like it did before a tornado. Marky scuffed some of the gravel at his feet and drew an arrow with his foot. He heard a ...sound..something behind him and turned, startled. He hadn't really noticed the front of the house. It was actually a cottage, almost charming. Not forbidding or frightening at all, although the windows had drawn blinds...and there was no sign of anyone living there. But it was the front door. Painted a soft, almost friendly shade of light blue, with four rows of window panes, three across as Marky noticed with his constantly mathematical mind. He always counted things wherever he went. Numbers had always soothed him, especially when he was nervous, and he thought of them as friends, each number having its own personality, its own voice, its own mystery. But none of his numbers spoke to him now...not the four of the rows, the three panes across, not the twelve in total... nothing.

All was silent as Marky stared at the door. It seemed all so simple.... covered in frost, snow gathered in the corners of the criss-crossing mullions, just like a Christmas card drawing. Marky thought of Santa, and Christmas trees, and presents like the new telescope his Uncle had bought him, and being home with his family, cozy and warm. He stared at the white sparkling frost on the windows, and the snow drifting around the doorway...and crunching under his feet as he drew closer and closer. He might have been afraid if his curiosity hadn't overtaken him. But he couldn't resist.

And even as the darkness gathered around him, the frost and the snow and the ice glistened brighter and brighter, silvery white...... and it was August...

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The George Sweet Doorway Mysteries - "A SECRET VISIT TO DR. MUMPLE'S INNER OFFICE"...

...Millicent had kept her worries to herself. As the new assistant to the house-chef, Mrs. Grampstone, in Lady Junxtin's household she couldn't afford to upset the running of the kitchen with its constant planning and entertaining. How very lucky she had been to even be interviewed, and so young! Only 23. But she HAD gone to Paris for her training, and to the internationally esteemed L'École de Légumes Merveilleuses too!! She had graduated first in her class in Puddings, Custards, and Whimsically Shaped Gelatins. And she had the medal and the vellum certificate to prove it too! But here she was just three weeks into her new employment, ringing the bell of a doctor she never met to check on what the strange buzzing was in her left ear, the odd little headaches... and .. the voices.

And then the door opened, and... the littlest woman Millicent had ever seen peeked up and from around it. She was ancient, in a long greyish uniform almost like a nurse, or a maid but from another place and time. She smiled strangely but sweetly and said, "Ah, you've come, haven't you, my dear? Please come in! I'm Dr. Mumple!".... and as Millicent passed through the doorway and into the darkened and deadly silent hall, she had a funny thought. Dr. Mumple is a woman!...and sounds exactly like my voices...

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The George Sweet Doorway Mysteries - "A RAINY AFTERNOON ON MARLEYBONE STREET"...

...it was the addition of the glass "advent porte" over the entryway that had been both convenient and a source of annoyance to Mr. Cableton, the butler at Wedgewood House. Although it was lovely on rainy days to greet visitors who could shake their coats and umbrellas off under its cover, (before they did so INSIDE the foyer!) he would also have to shoo away loiterers and passersby who parked themselves there to have a smoke, grab a kiss, or chat over their paper cups of coffee, and then litter them on the cobblestones.

Imagine his surprise on that Thursday before tea time when he prodded the rumpled gentleman sitting on the stoop in the gathering storm. The man toppled over face-up, eyes staring!... a hobo!...with a jeweled letter opener in the shape of a Chinese dragon stabbed neatly through his heart, pinning an expensive piece of stationery scrawled illegibly with turquoise ink....and was that a stick figure?...

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The George Sweet Doorway Mysteries - "THE GHASTLY GREENHOUSE"....

...and that, boys and girls, is where they found the Countess' body, under the African violet tray in the semi-shaded corner by the little Chuckle Fountain ...and her head? …it had been buried in the pot of one the Countess' prize winning gloxinias; a strangely poignant tribute to her talent and "green thumb"....which was found out on the lawn...where Skippy had been playing "fetch" with it….

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SYBIL'S HIT-OR-MISS HISTORIES! "Inventions That Failed"... the Pasta-Mega-Combine.

..... The town of New Palermo, New York had a large Italian population of immigrants, proud and loyal to their Mediterranean heritage. Although they were hardworking and loyal citizens in their new home of America, everything was colored by their traditions of family and fine food. When the Sons of Italy Gentlemen's Fraternal Organization combined their old-world cuisine with their new-world inventiveness, they created the world's first "Pasta-Mega-Combine"..... a giant factory capable of making and distributing tons of pasta instantly to homes in a seventy-mile radius from the center of town. Sadly, the creators hadn't taken into consideration the vagaries of weather, seasonal changes, and (most destructive of all!) flocks of birds becoming entangled and soiling the spaghetti! Adjusting the great machinery for ziti, vermicelli, and cannelloni only made the situation worse... as a matter of fact, the food critic from the NY Times visited and pronounced "the farfalle is far-fetched, the fusilli is silly, the rotini is rotten, and the gnocchi is noxious!".... Six months later, the entire facility had been reconfigured to produce merino wool yarn for expensive men's suits..... inexplicably, they always smelled like garlic.....

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SYBIL'S HIT-OR-MISS HISTORIES! "Inventions That Failed"... the TAN-Ya Tailor.

.... Professor Norman Hanracker had envisioned a time when people could get their daily requirement of vitamin D and a nice suntan all at the same time... all while taking a nap and in the convenience of their own homes... even when it rained or snowed! He'd been a mailman who went to night school to become a nutritionist and had graduated first in his class at Comestibles College!... and then his wife who ran a laundry service suggested that he combine a dry cleaning and pressing option to it too. He applied for a patent for his new “TAN-Ya Tailor”…And it all worked!!...Perfectly!... well until he demonstrated it in front of the local Chamber of Commerce luncheon..... Sadly, Norman was incinerated completely.... although his suit came out beautifully cleaned and wrinkle-free. Fortunately, his ashes could be brushed off the material easily… and the bankers were encouraged too by the fact that the machine had even replaced a button on his jacket....

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The History of St. Nasaltrice de Sine-Ayd.....

From Professor Sweet's Amazing Historium Of Wondurz & Spectacularities!!... the entire story of a miraculous little item!! It is NOT just a pendant, but in fact, a reliquary (a container holding sacred objects, tchotchkes, knick-knacks, or body parts!). This particular one contains a fragment of the sacred hankie of St. Nasaltrice de Sine-Ayd, a nun from the 16th century, who, in a 4 week fit of sneezing saw visions of Heaven, The Gates Of St. Peter, and the lovely little petting-zoo/picnic park that the Garden of Gethsemane had been converted into. Historical accounts of the time reported that she sneezed her soul out of her body over four thousand times during her ordeal, for which she was "Gesundheited" around the clock by devoted clergy, members of the nobility, shepherds, and various carnival persons that attended her.

At one point, her blessèd soul was sneezed out so violently that it lay helpless and shivering in the middle of the dining hall on the cold stone floor! It was then that Satan in the shape of a giant russet potato leaped out of a nearby vichyssoise and, reciting Hungarian swear words backwards, lunged at the innocent spirit. But a group of militant (and fairly masculine!) nuns barred his unholy way, and banished him by showing the hideous demon their lady parts and making sounds like cow-farts! Satan fled the room shrieking and covering his eyes (which was difficult because he was still a potato!)... the nuns called themselves The Little Sisters of Perpetual Politeness ever after, and they encased the sacred hankie that Nasaltrice last sneezed into as she was carried bodily (and without the anguish of perishing…or even indigestion!) into Heaven by cherubs!

And here it lies, one small fragment of that sacred cloth, thoroughly soiled but still unwashed, in a lovely "gold pendant with a border set with half pearls mounted under faceted crystal. Now in the collection of the Victoria & Albert Museum." ...(Pendant is shown in actual and rather startling size!)

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Sybil Bruncheon’s "In Memoriam"... Charlie Horse...

...in observance of the Oscars, the "In Memoriam" section of the evening is always very moving. Reflecting on those members of the industry who have passed away; and those who may have died young, perhaps even at the height of their fame, I felt it was important to mention some of the lesser "CELEBRITIES WHO LOST THEIR LIVES PREMATURELY!!"...

...Shari Lewis' association with Charlie Horse (April 3, 1951 - December 15, 1965) ended after years of alcoholism, hospitalizations, and shoplifting of mascaras, hair brushes, and small household appliances on his part. Increasingly unreliable at performances and even violent towards both Lamb Chop and Hush Puppy, his co-stars finally got an order of protection against him for “flannel battering” and felt trampling. He wasted vast amounts of money gambling on horse races that he was discovered to be throwing himself!... Later, he vanished for 6 weeks during pilot-season and was found dead in the alley behind F.A.O. Schwartz clutching a stained lint-brush and an empty jug of Woolite by his side. Judging by the mildew on his terry cloth, he had probably been dead for several days... His family asked that charitable donations be made to Anti-Glue causes in lieu of silk-flowers... His rubber nose was donated to the Smithsonian. His hat was possibly stolen by a farm-hand… or Mr. Green Jeans.

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