If you want to get a book published by a big~time publishing house
you have to say something about sex.  Sex and violence are a must if
you really want to get published.  And how could you ever hope to
win the Pulitzer or make the New York Times #1 Best Sellers list
without sex and violence written into your novel?  Themz the facts,
Mr., E says, tolls is tolls and rolls is rolls and if we don't get no tolls
we don't eat no rolls.  Please ignore that last sentence.  I am some
sort of psychotic or schizophrenic.  I suffer from something called
Multiple Personality Disorder, and sometimes, without warning and
when I least expect it, one of my other personalities momentarily
manifests itself without my consent.  That particular other personality
which just spoke those incomprehensibly silly words is Zelda, the
one~armed harlequin dancer.  She thinks she is the reincarnation of a
silent film actress named Margot Kelley.  Margot Kelley was an up
and coming character actress who's career spanned a few years
during the 1920s.  She wasn't such a great role player for the silent
screen because, though she was very beautiful, she was awkward
with her movements and couldn't match her facial expressions to the
character or the scene.  As a result of this minor handicap, Margot
only got bit parts, but because of her eye~catching good looks
directors were beginning to consider her for larger roles.  Margot had
a lovely voice which poured like warm, sweet honey into the ears of
all who heard it and this, she just knew, would catapult her to instant
stardom with the advent of Talkies.  But, as is often the case with
such high aspirations, a stumbling block stood in her way.  The
big~shot Hollywood director+producer who also just happened to
own his own film studios, the biggest and most powerful in
Hollywood, wanted her to have sex with him.  Now of course this
Hollywood big~shot was married but nonetheless he wanted Margot
to sleep with him.  He wanted her to be his concubine, his mistress,
his back~door love affair, his kept woman, but Margot, determined to
achieve the success of stardom without compromising her integrity,
flatly refused him.  He was naturally insulted by this act of
disobedience (he also owned her acting contract) and he wasted no
time informing her that if she refused to have sex with him then she
was finished as an actress in Hollywood or anyplace else.  This really
hurt Margot, needless to say, especially since she had just been to a
reading for a part in a Talkie that very day.  Now on the evening that
Mr. Hollywood Big~Shot leveled this threat against Margot she was
dining with him at a famous and fashionable French restaurant in
Beverly Hills.  What happened next is horrid to speak of, but I do
want to get published and win the Pulitzer and make the New York
Times #1 Best Sellers list, so I shall indeed speak of it.  Margot loved
long, silky, soft, flowing gowns and scarfs.  It sent tingles up and
down her spine and covered her flesh with goose~pimples when the
night breeze gently wafted her scarfs out behind her neck and
pressed her gowns flush against her body revealing the lithe and
sensual form of her delicately feminine torso, petite breasts and long,
smooth, shapely legs.  So you can easily imagine how captivating
and romantically dramatic Margot must have looked when, after
delighting in a gourmet French supper washed down with vintage red
wine, her and the Hollywood big~shot stepped out into the night as
they were leaving the fancy French restaurant.  How gallant the
Hollywood big~shot must have felt with a fair young beauty half his
age clinging to his tuxedo clad arm and walking side~by~side with
him down the carpeted, canopy covered walk which led from the
front entrance of the restaurant to his Studabaker which the valet had
left idling, waiting for them at the curb.  Eye witness accounts say
that she waved her free arm in the air, holding her alligator skin
clutch up toward the stars and in the most theatrically animated
manner, as if she were playing her greatest role ever, said "Adieu
cruel world!  Fate has cheated you!  You now lose Dame Margot
Kelley, the one who could have saved you all!"
The Hollywood big~shot simply smiled at the applause of the
onlookers as he opened the passenger~side car~door for Margot.  
The gathering crowd of adoring fans clapped with delight as they
began to realize who she was, but their applause turned to shrieks of
mortifying horror at what they saw next.  The Studabaker which the
Hollywood big~shot tooled around Tinsel Town with had the top
rolled back that night.  It was open air and uncovered.  It also had the
kind of tires in which a myriad of spokes shined and sheened, a
spinning infinity like a wagon~wheel in the Old West.  As the
Hollywood big~shot jammed the gas pedal to the floor, jerking away
from the curb like a thoroughbred darting out of the starting gate,
lovely Margot deliberately flung the ends of the multi~colored scarfs
which hung from around her narrow, supple neck into the rapidly
rotating spokes of the Studabaker's rear wheel.  The scarfs, made of
imported silk which as well all know is a very strong fabric, instantly
wound themselves tightly into the spinning spokes becoming
entangled in the rear axle at the same moment.  The sound of
Margot's pretty neck snapping into several mangled pieces as the
weight of her body resisted being dragged from the automobile by
the force of the death trap she had set in motion could be heard by
everyone even above the loud revving of the Studabaker's motor.  At
seeing Margot's body go flying out of the seat beside him, the
Hollywood big~shot slammed on the brakes, stalling the engine so
that his ears were met with the shrieks of utter terror and cries of
revulsion which the crowd of onlookers now made at the sight of the
gruesome carnage which they had just witnessed.
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