Death by Tiara Read Online Free
Author: Laura Levine
complaining.
XOXO,
Mom
To: Jausten
From: Shoptillyoudrop
Subject: Nellybelle
Of all the idiotic things your daddy has ever bought, this darn golf cart takes the cake. Apparently he answered an ad in the Tampa Vistas Tattler and bought it for $200. Which is about $199 more than it’s worth. He absolutely insisted I go for a ride in the damnable contraption, which he’s calling Nellybelle.
I told him it looked like it was ready for the junk heap, but he swore it was in tip-top condition, and made such a fuss about taking me for a ride that I foolishly got in.
What a mistake that was!
We hadn’t made it to the end of the block when the old junk heap conked out. And guess who had to help Daddy push it back home?
Time for a hot bath and an emergency piece of fudge.
Love and XXX from
Your aching,
Mom
To: Jausten
From: DaddyO
Subject: New Member of the Family
Fantastic news, Lambchop! There’s a new member of the Austen family—Nellybelle, my new golf cart. Well, actually it’s a used golf cart that I picked up for only $200. Just what I need to tool around Tampa Vistas. Think of all the money I’ll save on gas! Took your mom out for an inaugural spin this afternoon. A wonderful adventure, until Nellybelle stalled at the end of the block. But not to worry. Your mom and I pushed her back home, and now she’s resting comfortably in the garage. I’ll have her up and running in no time!
Love ’n’ snuggles from
Mr. Fixit, aka Daddy
P.S. Forgot to tell you: The guy who sold me Nellybelle threw in a free golf hat, and a horn that plays La Cucaracha . Neat, huh? Would you believe his wife made him get rid of all those treasures? Lucky for me, your mom is so understanding.
To: Jausten
From: Shoptillyoudrop
Subject: Feeling Much Better
Feeling much better now, after my hot bath and piece of fudge. (Okay, three pieces.)
Daddy’s insisting on fixing Nellybelle himself. Which means, of course, it’ll never get fixed, and I’ll never have to hear that damn La Cucaracha horn ever again.
Life is good.
XXX
Mom
P.S. Okay, it was four pieces of fudge.
Chapter 3
W hen I woke up the next morning, Prozac was not in her usual position astride my chest, clawing me awake for her breakfast. No, her claws were otherwise engaged, making fresh gouges on my DVD armoire.
“Prozac!” I cried, leaping out of bed.
She gazed at her handiwork with pride.
Who says cats can’t draw?
I quickly snatched her up in my arms and hauled her to the kitchen, where I distracted her with a bowl of Hearty Halibut Guts.
Then, with heavy heart, I examined the damage she’d wrought on the armoire. Fortunately she’d only attacked the side panel. Maybe I’d be able to cover the scratches with some wood stain. In the meantime, I had to keep the armoire safe from further harm. So I covered it with the carton it came in, weighing the carton down with two telephone books.
It would have to do until I could think of some other way to keep Prozac away from my treasured purchase.
Carefully closing the bedroom door, I headed back out to the kitchen to nuke myself some coffee and a cinnamon raisin bagel.
Then I settled down at the dining room table, otherwise known as my office, to check my emails. I was foolish enough to open the ones from my parents, something bitter experience has taught me never to do on an empty stomach.
My parents are perfectly lovely people, but disaster magnets of the highest order. Daddy’s the main culprit. The man attracts trouble like white cashmere attracts red wine. Of course, Mom is not without her quirks, having made Daddy move three thousand miles across country to be near the Home Shopping Club, under the mistaken notion she’d get her packages faster that way. Nevertheless, she’s been a saint to put up with Daddy’s antics all these years. I just hoped she was right about Nellybelle and that the golf cart would
XOXO,
Mom
To: Jausten
From: Shoptillyoudrop
Subject: Nellybelle
Of all the idiotic things your daddy has ever bought, this darn golf cart takes the cake. Apparently he answered an ad in the Tampa Vistas Tattler and bought it for $200. Which is about $199 more than it’s worth. He absolutely insisted I go for a ride in the damnable contraption, which he’s calling Nellybelle.
I told him it looked like it was ready for the junk heap, but he swore it was in tip-top condition, and made such a fuss about taking me for a ride that I foolishly got in.
What a mistake that was!
We hadn’t made it to the end of the block when the old junk heap conked out. And guess who had to help Daddy push it back home?
Time for a hot bath and an emergency piece of fudge.
Love and XXX from
Your aching,
Mom
To: Jausten
From: DaddyO
Subject: New Member of the Family
Fantastic news, Lambchop! There’s a new member of the Austen family—Nellybelle, my new golf cart. Well, actually it’s a used golf cart that I picked up for only $200. Just what I need to tool around Tampa Vistas. Think of all the money I’ll save on gas! Took your mom out for an inaugural spin this afternoon. A wonderful adventure, until Nellybelle stalled at the end of the block. But not to worry. Your mom and I pushed her back home, and now she’s resting comfortably in the garage. I’ll have her up and running in no time!
Love ’n’ snuggles from
Mr. Fixit, aka Daddy
P.S. Forgot to tell you: The guy who sold me Nellybelle threw in a free golf hat, and a horn that plays La Cucaracha . Neat, huh? Would you believe his wife made him get rid of all those treasures? Lucky for me, your mom is so understanding.
To: Jausten
From: Shoptillyoudrop
Subject: Feeling Much Better
Feeling much better now, after my hot bath and piece of fudge. (Okay, three pieces.)
Daddy’s insisting on fixing Nellybelle himself. Which means, of course, it’ll never get fixed, and I’ll never have to hear that damn La Cucaracha horn ever again.
Life is good.
XXX
Mom
P.S. Okay, it was four pieces of fudge.
Chapter 3
W hen I woke up the next morning, Prozac was not in her usual position astride my chest, clawing me awake for her breakfast. No, her claws were otherwise engaged, making fresh gouges on my DVD armoire.
“Prozac!” I cried, leaping out of bed.
She gazed at her handiwork with pride.
Who says cats can’t draw?
I quickly snatched her up in my arms and hauled her to the kitchen, where I distracted her with a bowl of Hearty Halibut Guts.
Then, with heavy heart, I examined the damage she’d wrought on the armoire. Fortunately she’d only attacked the side panel. Maybe I’d be able to cover the scratches with some wood stain. In the meantime, I had to keep the armoire safe from further harm. So I covered it with the carton it came in, weighing the carton down with two telephone books.
It would have to do until I could think of some other way to keep Prozac away from my treasured purchase.
Carefully closing the bedroom door, I headed back out to the kitchen to nuke myself some coffee and a cinnamon raisin bagel.
Then I settled down at the dining room table, otherwise known as my office, to check my emails. I was foolish enough to open the ones from my parents, something bitter experience has taught me never to do on an empty stomach.
My parents are perfectly lovely people, but disaster magnets of the highest order. Daddy’s the main culprit. The man attracts trouble like white cashmere attracts red wine. Of course, Mom is not without her quirks, having made Daddy move three thousand miles across country to be near the Home Shopping Club, under the mistaken notion she’d get her packages faster that way. Nevertheless, she’s been a saint to put up with Daddy’s antics all these years. I just hoped she was right about Nellybelle and that the golf cart would
Readers choose
Benjamin Lytal
Erin McCarthy
Evangeline Walton
Kristen Tracy
Martin Cruz Smith
David Poyer
Cherry Adair
Tony Spollen
M A Comley