Sybil Bruncheon's "My Merry Memoirs"... Just lick here!...

Imagine my dismay, after saving green stamps for decades, never cashing them in on small, stupid household items, and finally having enough (literally 14 boxcars full) to buy the Chrysler Building (on page 343 of their catalogue!)... and to be told, "I'm sorry ma'am, S&H green stamps has gone out of business... but it sounds like you've got enough there to wallpaper a lovely guest bathroom!"...

[Want to read other stories here on SybilSez.com? Just enter any topic that pops into your head in the "search" window on the upper right! Who knows what might come up?...and feel free to share them with your friends!]

Sybil Bruncheon's "My Merry Memoirs!... He's not heavy! He's my... uh... brother(s)!!

Did I ever tell you about my brothers? You already know about my identical twin sister Dagmar, but I also have other siblings including two younger brothers; Szilvestre and Ivor… Do you have a younger brother? Well, there’s nothing worse than having him tease you, hide your stuff, play with your personal things… or perhaps even try them on!… well, multiply that by TWO!

Yep! That’s them! Szilvestre on the left and Ivor on the right! Dagmar and I weren’t sure which one was playing which of us, but it was one of the few times we were ever united on anything! And fortunately, our legs are much prettier… although I still maintain that Dagmar has a little… um… mustache problem!… sort of like Ivor’s… or is it Szilvestre?… whatever!

[Want to read other stories here on SybilSez.com? Just enter any topic that pops into your head in the "search" window on the upper right! Who knows what might come up?...and feel free to share them with your friends!]

Sybil Bruncheon's "Aren't People Funny?"... The Forlornly Almost-Famous...

Top row – left to right…

1)   Kiki Karloff - distant great grandniece twice removed from Boris Karloff: She became famous (among Iowans!) as the Vegan Jams & Jellies champion at state and county fairs across the state. Her specialties involved taking any green vegetables and fruits and turning them into nutritious and faintly appetizing spreadables for her own gluten and flavor-free pastry “Non-Bakeables”! Her latest foray into licensing?... a facial mask, exfoliator, and make-up line made out of kale and peas… two unfortunate side-effects; an almost permanent green tinge to her users’ complexions… and severe gas…

2)   Skip Colgate - nephew, endlessly removed, through court interventions from his ancestor William Colgate (January 25, 1783 – March 25, 1857) founder of Colgate soaps and personal care products: Skip decided, after several unfortunate cases of tooth-extraction, often involuntary and during tricycle and dunking booth accidents, to develop the actual packaging of toothpaste. He felt that it could be more easily stacked in rectangular cardboard boxes. Sadly, the famously fresh Colgate flavor was adversely affected by damp, brown corrugated paper pulp… though it WAS more easily squeezed… if one didn’t mind minty hands…

3)   Wanda Wright – possible(?) great grand-niece of Wilbur and Orville Wright, pioneers of aviation and the airplane: Wanda had attended the Muriel Purt Academy of Fashion and Tasteful Accessorizing. After graduating with a straight C- average (with an emphasis on the word “average”) Wanda tried to honor her famous ancestors with a line of “Fly-able Fashions”. She designed an entire Fall line of flowing capes, big-sleeved cable-sweaters, chiffon trench-coats, helium-filled puffer parkas, and winged hats and shoes. Sadly, during her first outdoor fashion review, while modeling her own “Let’s Fly Away Chapeau”, a passing breeze lifted her off the literal “runway” and dropped her 40 yards away… into oncoming traffic. The critic from Vogue snarked that it was a “FALL” fashion review after all…

4)   Clint Chanel – claimant (unsuccessfully!) to the Chanel fortune: Clint spent most of his college years at the Hillsboro Institution of Advanced Pet-Grooming in partying, hosting marathon “keggers”, and annoying small dogs… and possibly rodents. He was introduced to the world of fashion by his older sister who happened to be a roommate of Wanda Wright at the Muriel Pert Academy (see above). Wondering out loud if there might be connection (and a lucrative one at that!) to a “Coco Chanel” he heard about, Clint gave up his animal grooming major and explored textile design and manufacture… first with animal clippings, lint, and dust bunnies and finally on himself. He was particularly focused on turning himself into a bouclé jacket… but without the itch factor. It seemed like a brilliant idea, and a solution for all the women who adored the aesthetic beauty of bouclé but were allergic to it… Unfortunately, poor Clint was mocked by his fraternity brothers and Lacrosse mates as being a “big mo”, and he gave up fashion innovation completely. His idea was later stolen and patented by Beth-Ann Versachi, a bearded lady in the Hepplemeyer Traveling Novelty Carnival. She netted about $111.89 from it… as wearable placemats… for picnics.

 

Middle row – left to right…

5)   Billy-Joe Tell – probably no relation to William Tell, folk hero of the Swiss legend and much-satirized cartoon overture. Billy-Joe nevertheless would sit in open spaces during lunch-breaks from his office-drudgery to invite other office workers in Akron, Ohio to throw fruit at his head for a small fee. He would charge them $5.00 for three chances with any fruit of their choice… tragically, while he was temporarily distracted by an agent for clowns and dunking booth careers, a semi-professional pitcher from the Toledo Mudhens hurled an over-ripe pineapple at Billy-Joe… he was killed instantly, hideously pricked and juiced to death.

6)   Oscar Mayer – (NO! REALLY!)… this Oscar Mayer claimed that he was somehow related to someone in the company and spent weeks camped out on the corporate headquarters steps in Chicago trying to get an appointment in the marketing division. Riffing on the company’s brilliant early idea of the Wiener Mobile (a giant hot dog and bun vehicle) driving around the country to major sporting and social events, THIS Oscar offered (for a fee!) to simply walk around the country promoting Oscar Mayer pure beef hot dogs. He suggested that he could invite himself to ball parks, shopping center openings, highway ribbon-cuttings, and 3rd grade birthday picnics… It seemed like a great idea, and the board of directors began to actually draw up the contract (with INDEED a hefty fee!) until the Summer of 1983… when an entire batch of over 3000 hot dogs was discovered with pubic hair inside the frankfurters! The recall nearly bankrupted the company, and it took years to recover its fine reputation. They failed again with their short-lived mustard cologne, “Je m’appelle Dijon”…

7)   Doug Von Trapp – pretender to the SOUND OF MUSIC Von Trapp legacy: Doug (later renaming himself Gahnef Von Trapp) made a marginal living claiming to be “the Unknown Von Trapp Child” at Vaudeville houses and on the burlesque comedy and carny circuits. Prancing about in baggy lederhosen and giant floppy clown-shoes he would yodel popular Patty Page songs in a screechy tenor while comically pickpocketing audience members he would invite onstage for pranks. After several years of struggle and inspired by the drag-example of Milton Berle on early television, Ganef-Doug changed his name and his costume to a female Von Trapp; Streudel Von Trapp, “the one with the eating disorder”. Struedel would still yodel, pickpocket and prank, but now she would conclude each performance by eating massive quantities of Austrian foods often brought by the audience; sacher tortes, cream puffs, sausages, chocolates, bratwursts, pots of cabbage soup, and on and on! Though now famous and fairly well-off,  “Struedel” eventually weighed over 612 pounds and was a full diabetic. His career ended a week before he was to appear on the Ed Sullivan Show in NYC along with the McGuire Sisters and Señor Wences, when he exploded while eating his tenth plate of Wienerschnitzel… the police were convinced it was the lingonberry jam that caused the fireball.

8)   Fabrizio Chesterfield – (no known relation to anyone famous): Young Fabrizio was raised mostly on the streets of Detroit’s Brightmoor ghetto. He started smoking at four, and drinking at 8, and distilling and distributing his own chocolate milk vodka at 14. His brilliance with chemicals and the process of making various household products inspired him to invent his own air-freshener. He took an assortment of alcohols he’d brewed, and then substituted the cigarettes for Binaca breath-sprays and… well… you get the idea. Sadly, the name “Fabreze” was too close to “Febreze”… but they DID buy his idea for a wall-mounted plug-in… for about $200.00… and change. He spent it all on Aqua-Velva.

9)   Margaret Nayvocks – claiming to be the rightful (but wronged!) heiress to the famous Magnavox television and appliance empire, Maggie became a runaway at 17 to NYC’s East Village and styled herself as an electrical “event artist”. She’d plug herself into a nightclub’s wall sockets with a series of taped together extension cords she’d shoplifted from going-out-of-business hardware stores along the Bowery, and then pole dance barefoot while haranguing the audience to spray her with seltzer bottles. It was during a particularly stormy night on Avenue C at the Caffé Pathetique Lounge, when she was simultaneously hosed, plugged in, and struck by lightning that her hair-braids suddenly became a fabulous TV antenna and people could watch the finals of the Poka-Ma-Hola Bowling Finals on the old Magnavox over the bar. The bowling match completely distracted everyone’s attention from her gyrations on the pole. The crowd only returned to her when Maggie’s head turned into a burning haystack.

 

Bottom row – left to right…

10) Debbie Galileo - great, great, great, great… oh lots of greats… grand daughter of Galileo di Vincenzo Bonaiuti de' Galilei (15 February 1564 – 8 January 1642) one of the earliest developers of the first telescope: As a tribute to her ultra-famous ancestor, Debbie has spent most of her life exploring alternatives to the traditional telescope.

11) Fred McMahon – claiming to be the brother of famous infomercial and TV-Sidekick yuck-meister Ed McMahon, Fred tried to glom onto Hollywood’s b-list at vegan barbecues, topless Weight-Watchers meetings, and backyard puppet-show fund-raisers for paraplegic pet charities. It was only when Johnny Carson, the great star himself, mistook Fred for Ed during a Tournament of Roses Parade that all Hell broke loose. Johnny called up his pals in the Rat Pack, specifically Frank Sinatra and took out a contract on him.

12) Jackie Koostow – next door neighbor to a woman who claimed to be the college roommate of the cleaning lady that Jacque Cousteau hired to keep his ship, the Calypso… um… shipshape: Jackie had been a child champion at the swimming and diving club at Kootchie-Koomie Summer camp and had dozens of medals and ribbons for her wins, but as she grew older, her competition began to out-race her. She didn’t seem to mind. She spent more time on her collection of aquariums and raising her exotic fish. Around the time she entered high school, she watched a special on TV called “The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau”. She became obsessed with his weekly adventures and the developing science of Oceanography, and she wrote to his production company to apply for a job. Amazingly, Jacques Cousteau actually responded himself… he suggested that she come to their central offices and have lunch with him and the board of directors. He had some ideas for the expanding options that were coming his way; magazine interviews, important press conferences with political leaders, and appearances on network  television! That specifically was where she might fit in! Can you imagine? Little Jackie Koostow! On television!! Well, she made the trip (all expenses paid!) to Cousteau’s home! And she sat with all the people who worked with him on his expeditions and projects… and they asked her about her life and background… and then… they suggested that she take all her experience and talent with swimming, aquariums, exotic fish and turn it all into a dream come true! And so, on prime time television, in scientific symposiums, and in Senate hearings and at state dinners with the President and foreign dignitaries, Little Jackie Cousteau (the spelling of her name was easily changed!) became “The Fabulous Fish Lady”!... her talent was to do impressions of the world’s most rare and endangered fish! And in classrooms across the country, children everywhere cheered her as their beloved “Guppy Girl”!!

13) Nick Roomenefski – long-lost (according to him!) heir to the Russian throne: Mr. Roomenefki, after a slight blow to the head during a Summer camp dodge-ball tournament, began claiming that he was not only Russian but also had survived the basement executions of Czar Nicholas II and his family in 1918. Okay… so firstly, the Roomenefskis had immigrated to NYC from Bulgaria as a nice Jewish tailoring family… in 1883! Secondly, young Nick was born in 1968 in Cedar Sinai Hospital!... with witnesses!!... and without a Russian accent!... which he only managed to come up with 15 minutes after the bump on his head at age ten… and NOT a very convincing accent at that!... and lastly; this whole notion of royalty only occurred to Nick after a tv showing of the film THE WIZARD OF OZ on an NBC affiliate station in Queens, NY. Poor impressionable Nick raided his mom’s bathroom for her hot rollers and her kitchen for a pair of oven mitts, and… well, the photo from the local children’s welfare agency says it all… On the other hand, Nick did rule over the children in his neighborhood with an even and compassionate hand, and, during his lengthy and peaceful reign, a new jungle-gym and swing set were allocated to their local playground.

14) Hiram Hires – self-styled inventor of the bottle-opener.

[Want to read other stories here on SybilSez.com? Just enter any topic that pops into your head in the "search" window on the upper right! Who knows what might come up?...and feel free to share them with your friends!]

Sybil Bruncheon's "My Merry Memoirs!"... Chapter 17, page 812... Round and round...

At the World’s Fair in 1965, I was a demo-model in the Kitchen-Of-Tomorrow exhibit for Amana!!! I stood on a giant turntable and walked through a 21st century kitchen displaying all the new appliances and gadgets while throngs of people came up for the shows. Each demonstration lasted 18 minutes exactly before I started again at the Plutonium Toaster, the Cry-O-No-More Freezer, the Singing Dishwasher, and the Cutting Board / TV where you slice and dice vegetables right on the faces of the news-casters....or Lucy Ricardo and Ralph Cramden!!! “HA HA!”…

[Want to read other fun and funny stories here on SybilSez.com? Just enter any topic that pops into your head in the "search" window on the upper right! Who knows what might come up?...and feel free to share them with your friends!]

Sybil Bruncheon's "My Merry Memoirs"... chapter 82, page 402...

Some of you have noticed in my Tour-ettes when I'm cooking that I have on special oven mitts; strangely shaped and... uh... a little oversized. Sadly, Mummie was born with... um... a slight... "anomaly". Why do you think she spent so many years in the county fair circuit in tents marked "The Incredible Lobster Lady"? I was hired to pinch oblong vegetables in half for delighted audiences, every half-hour for 18 shows a day, including question-and-answer and autograph/photo sessions, in a coconut brassiere and grass skirt. Eventually though, the novelty wore off and people were no longe willing to pay 25 cents to see my "talent". I had to escalate the gimmick to pinching ten-penny nails, kindling wood, and finally teen-age girls' diaries, local telephone books, and railroad spikes. It was exhausting, and, in the end, surgery was required to rebuild my hands. I still have some scars if one wants to look closely!... and you wonder why I often wear stylish gloves for my show-lettes!

Tour-ette: https://youtu.be/lRm6XJouoeI

[Want to read other fun and funny stories here on SybilSez.com? Just enter any topic that pops into your head in the "search" window on the upper right! Who knows what might come up?...and feel free to share them with your friends!]

Sybil Bruncheon's "My Merry Memoirs"... Chapter 31, page 372... Cousin Patrice...

Did I ever tell you about my lovely cousin Patrice de Laminoir? She was as beautiful as she was clever, and her radiant wit, grace, and ebullience assured her of admirers, both men and women, throughout her life, despite her unfortunate accident. You see, she lost her left leg in an unlucky kitchen catastrophe involving a runaway cake mixer and a nutmeg grater, and... oh, it's too horrible to recount here, but suffice it to say that even though she was as one-leggéd as any pirate in a boy scout adventure comic, she lived her life to the fullest. And she was determined not to let her missing leg nor the elaborately carved mahogany wooden one hold her back... as a matter of fact, she tossed her prosthesis, and had all of her right shoes fitted with a small caster that swiveled 360° around. On any escort's arm, her mother claimed "she was as mobile as a marble"... but with even more sparkle! And later, speaking of marbles, she actually invented the first "Shepherd Caster"... but was so distracted by her fabulous life that she never got around to getting the patent!

[Want to read other fun and funny stories here on SybilSez.com? Just enter any topic that pops into your head in the "search" window on the upper right! Who knows what might come up?...and feel free to share them with your friends!]

Sybil Bruncheon's My Merry Memoirs!... Dagmar's "doll"...

Darlings, I've told you about my twin sister many times and in stories that you either have asked me to dig up or stories which you like me to tell and retell again... (much like terrifying ghost stories around a roaring campfire during a girl scout jamboree... with S'mores... and calamine lotion!)

Anyway, I don't think I've ever told you the story of Dagmar and her special doll... and "The Nearly Lost Weekend". You see, Dagmar and I are (and always were!) identical, and I mean IDENTICAL twins! No one, not even our parents could ever tell us apart... well, unless Dagmar had pulled a gun out of her purse or started a fire in someone's dining room, starting a five years of age. I would find a stray kitten and be devoted to it... Dagmar might start researching recipes to serve it "en brochette". Thankfully, our family's staff of gardeners, butlers, maids, etc. managed to keep her from any serious mischief, (although old Mrs. O'Reilly next door DID disappear during our Halloween party when we were 8... and she was never found again. A piñata bearing a striking resemblance to her was reported at the Masonic Lodge's costume ball a couple of miles away... oh well. Another story for another time...)

At one Christmas when we were still quite young, Dagmar had managed to drug my eggnog claiming she was just sprinkling some nutmeg in it. I really should have known better, especially because her "nutmeg" was in tablet-form and out of a clearly marked prescription bottle! But I was still very open-minded, open-hearted, and credulous, even for a child! It turned out that Dagmar dragged me, unconscious, gagged, and handcuffed into a remote corner gable of our cavernous and maze-like attic! There, buried in stacks of crates, Vaudeville trunks, dress-forms, and clippings and posters of questionable hootchy-kootch acts, I languished while she rampaged through our family's Christmas celebrations, completely undetected! She had secretly commissioned a life-size doll from a Bulgarian puppet-maker... or was it Hungarian??... Akron?... whatever. It arrived by post, and she spirited it away to her room, dressed it in one of our matching pinafores, and then proceeded to walk it around the entire estate, conversing elaborately with it, and keeping it just out of eye-shot enough for no one to notice that it, in fact, was NOT me! 

Imagine! Decorating the house, Christmas Eve dinner with family and friends, off to bed before Santa's arrival, and then... CHRISTMAS MORNING! There was Dagmar dragging that damn doll dressed in a matching nightgown downstairs with our entire family... handing out gayly and gloriously wrapped presents! Opening them! OOOHING AND AHHHING at each lovely gift... and Dagmar using her infernal talent for ventriloquism to make the doll sound like me in complete conversations about the whole Holiday weekend! Apparently, my "gifts" to the family (courtesy of Dagmar's diabolical sense of humor!) included crayon-drawn "gift-certificates" to my Mother (building a gazebo out of field stones for her herb garden), to my Father (fetching, cleaning, and dressing any game birds that he and his pals had shot in the next 3 months!), to my Aunt Deirdre (canasta and rapt listening to her endless stories of nursing during the earlier Influenza epidemic of 1889 during which she fell in love with about 87 doughboys!), etc., etc., etc. for everyone else in the family! Given Dagmar’s natural instinct for practical jokes… and malice, you can imagine the “gifts” that I was responsible for by that evening. Thank goodness for completely disoriented and dotty Aunt Deirdre (yes! THAT same Aunt Deirdre!) who wandered away from the family festivities, blundering about unsupervised until she finally got to my remote part of the labyrinthine attic dressed in her old Florence Nightingale nurse’s uniform. Carrying her old railroad kerosene lamp, she literally stumbled over me, sure that I was a prisoner of war of the Kaiser’s German army that she needed to rescue! Despite her impaired perceptions and abilities, she still nimbly picked the locks on my handcuffs with a bobby pin plucked from her nurse’s wimple. But before she would release me, she insisted on checking me thoroughly for signs of abuse, torture, malnutrition, and lice. When I finally got back downstairs and confronted everyone, I wasn’t sure what I was more infuriated by; Dagmar’s villainy, or my family’s not noticing the difference between me and some doll… or possibly Aunt Deirdre’s highly invasive checking for lice! Whatever. This photo is of Dagmar and her doll… By the way, that’s Dagmar on the left!!!!!

[Want to read other fun and funny stories here on SybilSez.com? Just enter any topic that pops into your head in the "search" window on the upper right! Who knows what might come up?...and feel free to share them with your friends!]

Sybil’s “My Merry Memoirs”… Down And Dirty With The Girls!...

... shortly after the HUAC hearings began and Hollywood was rocked by the hysteria and scandal of possible Communists in every cartoon and cooking show on tv and radio, my Ladies Gardening Club was rounded up for questioning. It's true that our color scheme for the Spring had been titled "THINK PINK!", and that Gale Sondergaard had been a guest speaker at our "Perennially a Star!" luncheon, but the FBI never found any typewriters, or even a pencil in our flower beds.... and the closest our flowers came to being left-leaning was when we planted them on the shadier side of the house!!... here are the girls just minutes before the cops kicked in the French doors to our "Gal Gazebo" and led us all away with our Singapore Slings still in our hands!!! They let us keep the drinks… but they took away our little paper umbrellas. They claimed we might try to “injure” ourselves in our cell!!

[Want to read other stories here on SybilSez.com? Just enter any topic that pops into your head in the "search" window on the upper right! Who knows what might come up?...and feel free to share them with your friends!]

Sybil’s “My Merry Memoirs!”… Chapter 11; My “Vacation” Kitchen...

… a little story of Mummie's own, um...rehabilitation through "Convalescent Cuisine"...

Did I ever tell you about the short, ahem, “vacation” that I was invited to take from MGM after all the blacklisting controversy in 1951? Well, a while back, I had a bit of bad luck, what with the demise of the studio system in Hollywood, the advent of early television (on an 11" screen, no less!... can you imagine?), and then the HUAC hearings and the blacklisting of suspected Communist sympathizers.

Being a victim of all that, I got so upset that I had a bit of a… um… meltdown. It seems I went to the studio commissary and began throwing food at the nice ladies behind the serving counter… there was a rumor that I was particularly destructive with the wax beans and the succotash. And I began to... uh... self-medicate, as young folks call it; so after a lengthy string of failed dinner-theatre productions of Greek tragedies and an even lengthier stroll down benzedrine lane, I was “detained” by some very sympathetic police officers, and later senten--- er, invited to vacation at the Hollywood Hills Home for Semi-Hysterical Creative Persons… on the Sylvia Plath wing. My psychia---er, "social director" knew of my great fondness for cooking and fine dining (he saw that I had put on about 22 pounds!), and decided that fat was better than psychosis, so they installed me in one of their special suites with a fully operational kitchen!

And what a kitchen, with all the latest amenities! It looked like it had been lifted right out of the World's Fair with Betty Furness on a turntable! The only bad news was that all the knives and forks were plastic, and the stove and oven were heated by extra-strong light bulbs. Of course, the gas lines weren't hooked up (it WAS the Sylvia Plath wing, after all!), but I WAS allowed to make all the jello to my heart’s content! And it DID have completely washable surfaces... even spongeable cabinet doors!.. or was it spongy cabinet doors??? Anyway, after about three weeks, I had lost all that weight, but my chocolate pudding batches had ruined the figures of my fellow patients and all our wardens. It was okay though. I was able to tailor their hospital uniforms in my padded sewing room!

[Want to read other fun and funny stories here on SybilSez.com? Just enter any topic that pops into your head in the "search" window on the upper right! Who knows what might come up?...and feel free to share them with your friends!]

My Merry Memoirs.... Mr. Pinky and I Go For a Drive.....

Here I am as a child in my first car driving Mr. Pinky to our wonderful clubhouse where other children would gather for a busy day of "advanced armament fort-building", "cowboys, Indians, and League of Nations arbitrators", "draping and fashion modeling with Silly Putty and drugs", and, my favorite, "Strip Old Maid". On the way, Mr. Pinky and I had a terrible accident over near the Dalrymple estate.... I don't remember everything, but it seems I crashed through a privet hedge and down an embankment into their three acre sand box..... Luckily, good old Pinky was thrown clear before my Mini-Duesenberg rolled over three times and burst into flames. As you can see, I was wearing my Fruit-of-the-Loom Asbestos Jumper....I was lucky, yes, and pulled to safety by three cub scouts who happened to be playing cops, robbers, and EMT workers, but the police saw my purple tongue and the empty bottles of Welch's grape juice in the back...I was later cited for DWI and talking on a tin can and string while operating a vehicle.... The judge handed down a mandatory sentence of 6 months hard labor at pot-holder making and selling Girl Scout cookies...door-to-door! I was totally humiliated! 

Later, Mr. Pinky became my designated driver during my probation...  Even in college, years later, we never spoke of it again…

[postscript: Mr. Pinky was one of the most trusted figures in my large and disparate family. Even here in this photo, you can see this wasn’t his first trip to that clubhouse. You can see a world-weary look in those in those kind brown eyes. He had a wise, old soul that was thousands of years old in... um... well, a six year old dog's body, but it's all in the eyes there, isn't it? He never complained ...and of course, he had his own troubles with a family of flea-bag drunkards, table-scrap stealers, slipper-chewers, all-night yowlers, inveterate biters, outdoor urinators, and back-alley humpers. It's a miracle he was such a good and faithful companion and so scholarly, especially in Archaeology, (or some sort of digging-thing) at which he excelled. He was a saint. A SAINT!... My father retired Pinky to a wonderful, little maisonette on a cliff overlooking Tiberius’ palace in Capri. He lived to be 88, (which is 616 in dog years!) and had a devoted staff of loving servants, a brilliant chef, and a dog-walker that all made his life a perfect Heaven for him… I was lucky even to have known him.]

[Want to read other fun and funny stories here on SybilSez.com? Just enter any topic that pops into your head in the "search" window on the upper right! Who knows what might come up?...and feel free to share them with your friends!]