I finally recieved the letter I had been waiting for, from Quebec. It was my pen-pal there who I had been writing to for a year, her name was Quiterie, and she was inviting me to visit her in Quebec. I wrote a rather “mushy” letter back and told her I couldn’t wait to meet her, “the Queen of my dreams”.

So, I flew to her on Qantas airlines and even though we had never met in person, I had her picture in my hand the entire flight. I looked out the window and admired the beauty, thinking of how many quiet nights of quiet stars I might soon share with Quiterie.

She was even lovelier than her picture as I entered the terminal, we recognized each other immediately and ran to each other hugging deeply. Then I realized I was so excited I had wet myself, I just said, “Sorry about that…” She just smiled, brushing herself off and said, “Qe Sera sera!”

After I cleaned up, we drove to her home where I met her Mother, Queen Jane approximately 50 years old and her father Quinn, the eskimo pie never leaving his hand as we shook hands.

As we all sat down in the living room I asked if I could have a Q-Tip to clean the wax out of my ear, explaining that it always builds up whenever I fly.

Quinn The Eskimo and Queen Jane Approximately 35 and 32 respectivly were aboard the Queens yacht named Queen of my Dreams. As the quiet diesel motors pushed the sleek craft through the blue waters of the caribeean, they both lounged on the deck during the late evening. It was just another of many quiet nights of quiet stars.

Quinn had just invested heavily in a manufacturing plant that made Q-Tips. The money was rolling in faster than he could deposit it in his numbered Swiss account.

They were enjoying the good life. When Queen Jane asked Quinn what would happen if the price of cotton skyrocketed, he answered, Oh well, Que Sera, sera, whatever will be, will be.

Little did Quinn know that Jane had just cornered the market in Cotton futures. All is well that ends well.

Heya Sunshine! “P” had a distinctively mushy romantic feel to it…not my strong point…lol..so….here it goes….

Glitter-

There is only one city that never really sleeps, and the songs have it all wrong. It’s really Las Vegas. The neon lights are so bright that they may possibly be able to sustain life if the sun winked out. Surely, if not for the heat, the citizens of Las Vegas wouldn’t even know the sun was there.

Let’s take a stroll down the strip shall we. Let’s see what scene the neon has highlighted for us.

There on the left is “Circus Circus”, that marvel of carnival gambling. It’s not enough to lose your money at an overwhelming rate, you must do it the reptitious sounds of “The Entertainer”.

And who is that by the front doors? Why, it’s the queen of my dreams, Frankie Wall. Frankie will be the first to tell you that he should have been Ru Paul, and would have been if not for an untimely bus accident that left him short an arm. With his good hand he grips a q-tip tightly and applies lip gloss. But my how he glitters in that dress! Wave to Frankie!

Further up on the right you’ll see Caesar’s palace. The roman armored door man is a jovial sort by the name of Quinn. He’ll forever be known as Quinn the Eskimo since the day was spotted wearing a leather coat! In August! Vegas in August is 115 degrees on a good day so one has to wonder what he was thinking.

Up ahead is the Imperial Palace, so named because Queen Jane, approximately sixty years ago, stayed there. And it is to here, to room 390 to be exact, that our attention is drawn. A lone man lies on the double bed of room 390, his brow furrowed, as a debate wages in his mind. His face is a road map of worry lines; a monument to hardship. His hair, sporadic at best, lies disheveled over his gleaming pate. He chews on his lower lip.

You do not need to know his name. In some ways, he is every man. Your father. Your neighbor. The man at the back of the elevator who nervously fingers an unlit cigarette. Though you do not know his name, you know him.

He stretches out his arm and lightly touches the pullout drawer on the end table. His brow furrows deeper. He has been here for a week now, passing quiet nights of quiet stars and quiet revelry. Contemplating what is left, and what his final act will be.

His hand pulls on the drawer handle. The Smith and Wesson winks ominously at the hotel room.

Like a lover, the man caresses it. And still the debate rages on within him. Is it over for him? Is hope still present? Will he ever leave this hotel room again? Only the neon lights of the city that never sleeps will know these answers.

Que Sera Sera, my friend…..

Quinn the Eskimo sliced off a another thin sliver of blubber and arranged it artfully on the platter,between two slices of yellowtail, then strategically placed a few parsley sprigs. Satisfied with his handiwork, he rang the bell to notify Jane, his new waitress, that the food was ready. People had said he was crazy when he talked about opening a sushi bar in Anchorage, but they had been wrong and he had been right. The place was packed and it was only a Tuesday!

He could see Jane laughing with one of the customers and tossing her thick black braid over her shoulder. She was certainly a beauty. He had fallen in love with her on the day she came in for an interview. In response to his question about having experience she had said simply “No, but I know I can do this” If she would have admitted to being an axe murderer the job would still have been hers!

She had a regal air about her and Quinn had taken to calling her Queen Jane. Approximately 5 minutes had passed since he rang the bell summoning her and she still had not come. She was flitting about the dining room, spreading joy among the patrons, with her sparkly personality and jewel-like beauty.

The reality was, it was TOO busy to even think of romance , three more tables had just walked in!

By the end of the night, Jane and Quinn were both pooped. Quinn dropped her off, since she lived on his block only a few houses away. She had smiled and kissed him on the cheek as she jumped out of the car.

He watched her race up the steps with a heavy heart “There goes the queen of my dreams” he thought.

Arriving home he was tired but could not sleep for thinking of her! He poured a glass of bourbon and sat out on the porch, feeling the cool crisp air and looking at the sky.

“Quiet Nights Of Quiet Stars”, he said aloud but no one was there to hear. After a while the bourbon achieved its desired effect, and he relaxed and became philosophical. “Que Sera Sera, If it is meant to be, it will be”

No sooner had he made this pronouncement that he spotted Jane running up the walk! She was babbling about a bug that had gotten into her ear. He wisked her inside and examined her ear, gently using a Q-tip to investigate. Sure enough he was able to extract a small black bug which he quickly disposed of! Jane was so relieved that she kissed him on the lips, which caused her to feel a little jolt of electrity!!

And this is how a Q-tip was the start of a wonderful romance!

I met Quinn the Eskimo shortly after I moved to Alaska. He was a pudgy man with a terribly sad past which he told me about one cold evening in his cabin.

Quinn had been a doctor until he performed the most critical operation of his career and realized he had left a handful of Q-tips in his patient. After that everyone in the village called him a quack, his life would never be the same again. His fiancé’, Queen Jane approximately decided he was a disgraced and left him alone to quiet nights of quiet stars. “She was the queen of my dreams!” he cried as he told me about her. “But alas, she had qualms about marring a quack.” He sobbed bitterly. “All she had to say to me was que sera, ser, whatever will be will be. Then she left me as quickly as she could.”

Terribly sad that all of this was caused by Q-tips.

~sob, sniffle.

🙂

*****BREAKING NEWS*******

this just in. it has been reported that last night, during the Alaskan Festival of (line) QUIET NIGHTS OF QUIET STARS, someone allegedly broke into the (line) QUEEN OF MY DREAMS spa and beauty parlour and stole 1000 (line)

Q-TIPS. The owner of the salon, (line) QUEEN JANE APPROXIMATELY said of the theft, “It was really heartbreaking and felt like a personal violation! Who would do such a horrible thing. We hope to see the offender promptly brought to justice, but (line) QUE SERA, SERA (WHATEVER WILL BE, WILL BE.)” The alleged suspect, (line) QUINN THE ESKIMO, is still at large.

on quiet nights of quiet stars, on a cruise ship called “queen of my dreams”, after the parties are over, a small group of people will gather in a discreet place on the deck of this ship. they’re only looking for someone to talk to. but they’re usually drunk. and most of the time, they’re complete strangers.

“hi! i’m quinn the eskimo” said a man. “hi, quinn” slurred the rest of the group. “i’m queen jane, approximately” stated another (man, that was). this statment was, however, met with groans of annoyance and disgust. “and i thought you were supposd to be drunk!” cried the queen and flounced off, muttering angrily and tripping on his petticoats.

“i’m a q-tip!” proclaimed a small woman who had an alarming resemblance to a garden gnome. “hi Q-T..” purred a heavily bearded man suggestively. “no, Floyd! i already told you i’m not going out with you. if i have to tell you again, i’m going to be telling it to your boyfriend as well!” she yelled. q-tip/garden gnome woman ditched the group as well. “oh dear…” said floyd, looking very worried. “ah well, que sera sera. now, who’s up for a game of charades?”

“count me in!” said quinn. sadly, he was the only other remaining member of the group. him, and a very large q-tip.

My costly chum Avery, nicely, he and that i… we’ve been extreme college sweethearts. He and that i courted for 3 years…. yeah, issues have been given exceptionally severe. yet then at some point, i do no longer understand WHAT got here approximately… I called a number of situations and left him messages, prayed like Daniel prayed three times an afternoon that he could call me, yet he by no ability back my telephone calls. I dunno… in line with threat someplace… no longer immediately… we’ve been drifting too a methods aside. I constantly theory that there became stable chemistry between him and me, yet perchance I missed a clue… a tell-tale sign that indicated that the glue between us became dropping its stronghold. Oh nicely. in line with threat he theory that i became too numerous a daydreamer. yet it somewhat is who i’m, despite if he can settle for me or no longer… i’m a daydream believer…. i think daydreams can and do come real. I constantly wish that he will call… the daydream believer that i’m. And in my techniques, i ask your self…. “Do I ever pass your techniques? Ever??” At nighttime, whilst the air remains and silence pervades for the duration of the nighttime, I cry with no lead to sight… such sorrow… such unhappiness… yet no, do in no way enable the sunlight seize you crying, yet whilst it may, those tears will in the top as quickly as back coach the glimmer in my eyes…. my eyes shining ever so brightly, twinkling like stars, as on the day I first laid eyes upon my costly Avery.

Please excuse my typos but my spell check isn’t working today.

Quinn was a loner. It seemed to everyone that he needed no one, wanted no one, nor had no one. He was content to dwell alone in the little cabin on the far side of town at the end of a dead end road. There was a sign on the slightly sagging front gate. “ABSOLUTELY NO SOLICITORS!!” followed by, not one but two exclamation points. He was a loner alright, everyone thought as they shook their heads at the sign. They all thought of him as QUINN THE ESKIMO because of his icy personality. Little did they know that even though he enjoyed his QUIET NIGHTS OF QUIET STARS, he had a secret desire.

“QUEEN OF MY DREAMS”, he called her. He didn’t even know her name but he thought she looked like a ‘Jane’, QUEEN JANE APPROXIMATELY. She was the quiet young lady who lived on the other far side of town. Her front yard was a riot of color with all the different flowers she grew. Her blond hair seemed to glow in the sunshine forming a halo as she worked in her gardens. He had often walked by her house just to get a glimpse of her.

He dipped the trusty Q-TIPin the silver polish and continued to clean the tiny crevices on the ornate clock he had just repaired for one of the town people. The extra money would come in handy. His writing was in a slump at present, So he had started repairing small appliances for the extra income.

His thoughts went back to his ‘Queen Jane’. If only he had the opportunity and courage to talk to her.

A knock on the door jolted him from his musings. Grumbling to himself at being disturbed from his day dreams, he crossed the room to open the door.

“It keeps burning the toast and won’t pop up,” the young blond lady smiled up at at him as she held out a toaster. “Do you think you can fix it?”, his ‘Queen Jane’ added.

He smiled back at her as he took the toaster. QUE SERA SERA, WHATEVER WILL BE WILL BE. Ask and ye shall receive