I am going to go play dead for the next 4 years; hold all my calls. "But Mr. Butterworth," said Madge, "how will we be able to get in touch with you in case Hollywood calls if you're playing dead?" "It's very simple, Madge," Mr. Butterworth replied. "I'll have my cell phone with me in the casket. If Hollywood calls, put them hold, call me, and then dig me up! Understand?" Madge understood alright...understood that Mr. Butterworth was freakin' out of his freakin' mind if he thought she'd really do that. She nodded anyway. "Sure!" Then Madge stuffed a turkey full of mashed potatoes and preheated the oven to 450 degrees fahrenheit. She carefully measured out two cups of flour and handed them to Mr. Butterworth, who was still afflicted with the unmentionable problem neither of them mentioned. Mr Butterworth massaged the flour into the massive turkey while she stuffed the turkey even more. The oven raged hot and heavy. The smoke pour out of that oven made the who room smell like heaven. It was so good that Mrs. Butterworth died of Turkey scent overload. How could she have known that dinner would be pure poultry in motion? Mrs. Butterworth spent so much time on the bottle, the turkey took her totally by surprise. Her funeral Was attended by Tom and his family. They roasted Mrs. Butterworth, dressed her in organic stuffing and homemade gravy. The feast was on February 19th. Everyone was invited. Mrs. Butterworth was displayed in a casket on a pedestal behind velvet rope. As people filed past they received a blast of compressed air aimed at their crotch, making them shriek.



1 Gibber's photo

My thought process: So they are going to feast on Mrs. Butterworth. Everyone is invited. But what if everyone shows up? There won’t be enough for everyone, so they will just display her in a casket so everyone can have a look. The velvet rope barrier made me think of wax museums. Wax museums made me think of Fisherman’s Wharf, the tourist trap area of San Francisco, where there used to be a Torture Museum. They had a chastity belt display with a mannequin, but you had to press a button to see it. This caused a blast of compressed air to shoot up from the floor at your crotch. I thought I’d throw that in.

2 LordVacuity's photo

I can vouch for there being a Houlahans on that same block. I used to pass the wax museum to get to the Houlahan’s.

3 Woab's photo

I find it interesting that Mr. Butterworth is playing dead at the beginning, but Mrs. Butterworth actually dies in line 7.

4 LordVacuity's photo

Well you can come back from the former but not the latter.  Well, you’re not supposed to come back.

5 Rebbie's photo

My thoughts exactly Woab. Only then I thought what if Mr. Butterworth IS Mrs. Butterworth and the reason they only displayed her was to prevent hime from being eaten alive. (cue twilight zone music here)

6 Woab's photo

Hmm, yes. Maybe Mrs. Butterworth is actually Mr. Butterworth in drag and he felt he had to kill off his transvestite persona because he thought it was interfering with his Hollywood career. If you ask me, I think he should have kept her and quit being him.

7 LordVacuity's photo

Yeah, but that is not something I think I would ever ask you about Woab.

8 Rebbie's photo

I think she was much more likable than he was and apparently so does his assistant Madge.

9 Gibber's photo

Maybe Mr. Butterworth was Mrs. Butterworth in drag. “His” unmentionable problem was that she needed to be done with her male persona surreptitiously, hence the plan to play dead for four years. She intended to fake her death with the part about the turkey, but it actually killed her, revealing her true sex.

10 Woab's photo

True Rebbie, and really isn’t it Madge who kills Mrs. Butterworth by making the fatally aromatic meal? So maybe it’s Madge who does not approve of the drag version of Mr. B. He must not have realized what a far-right maniac she was, as we now know. Ooh. That Madge…!

Futique- you can ask me anything about Mr. B, but I cannot guarantee an accurate answer.

11 Woab's photo

OMG, Gibber! I think you nailed it!

12 Rebbie's photo

Gibber, you’re a genius! Madge couldn’t stand another woman being with Mr.B even if it was Mr. B.  Madge you fiend!

13 Gibber's photo

Madge’s love for Mr. B was an obsession of a highly disturbed mind.

14 LordVacuity's photo

Maybe you would rethink your positions if you knew that Mr. Butterworth choose to change his name when he moved to this country for some reason.  His original name was Mr. Potatohead.

15 SlimWhitman's photo

Just stumbled upon this story.:The discussion is just as entertaining as the story and shows how a ‘mere’ 10 fold story developed further by each folder can open up a whole world of possibilities.

For example, where was Mrs. Potatohead during the preparation of Mr. B’s Turkey roast?

16 LordVacuity's photo

So you are saying a potatohead’s place is in the kitchen? I say it should be in the baby’s room or even better wherever she wants to be.

17 LordVacuity's photo

Remember, in the baby’s room, there are choking hazards.

18 PurpleProf's photo

...and I found it interesting that there was not a single mention of Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup. No pancakes, either.

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