Hi, Honey. This is a good grum with the three GIRLZ. You will enjoy.
Sometimes, in this cruelly unpredictable and harshly lonely society we all share, we find a rare friendship that transcends all other bonds in our lives. So is the fortune that blesses Patti and her chosen companions, Madge, Cheryl and Debra.
Already running late for their intimate dinner soirée with Bill Cosby, Patti finds the girls having an impromptu dance off to
Beyoncé’s new self titled album. “Bitches, I told you to be ready when I got downstairs!” Patty belted.
Debra starts, “Honey, we’re breaking the Internet. Kim Kardashian has nothin’ on us.” But before she could snap the air like Zorro in a pride parade, Patti snapped back, “Honey, the only things you cows are breaking are my floor joists.”
Cheryl starts with a comeback but once again, Patti cuts her off. “I ain’t no toilet and I ain’t no tissue. So don’t try to give me any shit. Get your asses in my caddy just as you are. If you bitches make me late for dinner with Cosby, Ferguson, Missouri is not going to be the only place with rioting tonight. I still have to pick up a turkey on the way!”
The girls scramble to the car and find their way to the butcher but they have no luck finding a turkey, it being so close to Thanksgiving. The butcher, not wanting to disappoint Patti and the girls for fear of retribution… again, brings out a small package wrapped in butcher paper and twine.
Patti eyes the butcher suspiciously but being so short of time, runs to the car and opens the trunk as the girls pile in the backseat.
Madge shushes the girls. “Did you hear that? It sounded like a little squeaky voice saying “butterflies.” All three girls look at each other with an expression of frightened bewilderment as a loud hissing and bubbling fills their ears.
“Just putting the turkey in the portable fryer back here, girls, so it will be ready when we arrive. Strap yourselves in so we can go as soon as I jump in, Patti demands from behind the pink caddy. ‘Such a petite turkey. I hope it’s enough.”
The girls huddled together on the back seat terrified of both the boiling bomb in the trunk and Patti’s erratic driving behavior as they all listen to Aretha Franklin’s freeway of love on the radio. “We’re frying Petite on the freeway of love in a pink Cadillac.”
Madge and Cheryl help Debra lug the heavy deep frying pressure cooker into Cosby’s kitchen through the maintenance hallway, lovingly called by the staff, “The RET” (Roofie Extrication Tunnel).
All the while, Bill is entertaining Patti in the billiard room. “Care for a game?” Bill says as he pours a drink for Patti from his specially selected bottle.
“Why, of course, my dear man. I would love to play with your balls and stick.”
Cosby thinks to himself, “You will, Patty Cakes. You will.”
“I call this the molester,” He says as he passes the cocktail to Patti. She downs the small, bitter cocktail in one gulp. She feels woozy minutes later. She makes her way to the comfortable wedge chair and sits. Just as she feels herself slipping into unconsciousness, as she wanted all along, she hears Bill whisper into her ear, “i’m gonna pop your puddin’ and make your legs feel like J E L L O!”
The girls help the staff prepare the meal before meeting the Cosby himself as instructed by Patti earlier in the day. Madge releases the pressure before opening the turkey fryer. She reaches in with a grasping utensil and pulls out a very oddly shaped turkey.
Cheryl and Debra race over from the other side of the kitchen as Madge gasps and drops the tiny human shaped blob of… something to the floor. “Is that normal,” Debra asks in a hushed, raspy voice.
In stunned silence, the staff and the girls gather round and bend down to hear a tiny high pitched voice struggle to push out its last words, “No, meese eelsah! I keeped you… warm.”
With tears flowing at the realization, Debra screams, “That’s no turkey! That’s Ma Petite from the American Freak Show near Patti’s house!”
Soul splitting screams and gasps are heard throughout the house as the kitchen staff react to the horror before them. Patti rouses due to the noise to find Cosby knocked out on the floor having mixed up his supply of rape drink with his plain liquor. “Shit! A girl can’t even get taken advantage of anymore.”
Cheryl says, nonchalantly, “Shit. No fucking turkey again this year!” Realizing she’s the only one left in the kitchen, she picks up the stiff lifeless cajun injected deep-fried body and puts it on the carving platter where she proceeds to slice off a few tender pieces of rump roast.
Patti, having no idea what has happened and feeling rejected and angry, yells across the house for the girls to get into the car or be left behind.
Scared for her life after learning the truth about Patti’s Thanksgiving turkey debacle, Cheryl throws her meal into a ziploc bag and heads for the car where she finds Patti and the girls waiting for her.
The trio sit in silence on the backseat as Patti drives them all to her performance scheduled later that evening. Things begin to turn back to a bit of normality in the dressing room as the girls help Patty get dressed and prepare for her nightly performance.
Just before Patty closes the door behind her on her way to the stage, she turns to the girls with a smirk and says, “this never happens. I’ve got butterflies in my stomach tonight,” and hands an empty ziploc bag to an irritated Cheryl.