"Oh, I mean, except for your bosom, of course," the Count told Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily. "I'm sure when you were not 70 and a lot younger your bosom not only rivaled, but ceded the ampleness of Edith's bosom."

"Well, it did!" Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily exclaimed, sneering at Edith.

And indeed it did. Now, I don't wish my masterwork to get too tied down with talk of bosom because, like I have mentioned repeatedly throughout this tome, I don't wish to spend too much time on matters of sex because that is too easy for a writer of my talents. Yes, it sells lots of books and attracts a lot of fine women to my bumper, but I will not let those wonderful things stand in the way of my artistic integrity. But I do think it's important to give Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily's bosom equal time. Women have long fought to be placed on the same level playing field as men, so it is only right that I give some background about Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily's mamms, as well.

Her breasts were before their time, really. Ample and generous, they heralded a new style in chick pillows. Poets and mandolin players collaborated to write dirge after dirge about them, and by the time she was 19, there wasn't a man in Chatterlillytown who wasn't familiar with them. All the blogs wrote about her bazongas, and she was treated like a queen—a queen with glorious hooters.

Tragically, this made Evan Timberpond's eventual rejection of her even more painful. Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily had the most sung and blogged about breasts in all the land and yet still Evan Timberpond, her designated crush, treated her like just another floozy on Laguna Beach. Oh, sure, he took her out on dates, they'd go to the movies and cockfights, but never did he try to hold her hand or stick his tongue down her throat. Why?!?

So now here Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily was, with Edith Stumplonia's ample headlights beaming at her, wondering if she would lose the Count like she lost Evan Timberpond. I mean, it wouldn't be exactly the same because, unlike with Evan Timberpond, she has had lots of hard and fast sex with Count von Hasselhoffer. Heck, they've even made a sex tape together! Plus, Evan Timberpond turned out to be gay. So actually, it doesn't really compare at all. Still, as Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily stood there naked, with Edith Stumplonia's knockers out in plain view and Count von Hasselhoffer talking about his penis exploding, she couldn't help but remember all the cockfight dates she and Evan Timberpond went to that ended sexless and in tears.

"My bosom ain't so bad for 70," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily said.

"No, no, your bosom looks very great for 70," Count von Hasselhoffer said. "I haven't seen too many 70-year-old bosoms, but I bet none look as ample as yours do."

"Thanks," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily.

"Don't mention it," the Count replied.

"Let's have some meatloaf!" Edith said. Despite admiring the Count's restraint for not burying his head in her exposed and ample bosom, Edith still was keen on carrying out her plan of making the Count eat the psychotic-laced meatloaf that she had brought between her thighs but that now was on the floor.

"But it's on the floor," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily said.

"Oh, that doesn't matter," Edith answered. "It's the 210 second rule."

They each looked at the meatloaf that had been on the floor for 191 seconds. Despite being on the floor for 191 seconds (now 192 seconds…193…194…) it looked tasty.

"Hmm," the Count said. "Could we make paninis out of it?"

"I don't see why not," Edith said.

"I got this sweet panini-maker recently. Have been on a panini binge ever since. They're fantastic," said the Count.

"You haven't had a panini since I've been here," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily.

"That's because I'm low on mozzarella and want to horde it for myelf."

"That's cold-blooded!" Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily

"Sorry, Dame; that's just how I roll."

"Well, fortunately there is more than enough meatloaf to go around," Edith said.

"Yeah, but I'm not sharing any mozzarella," the Count chimed in.

"Understood," said Edith, putting her World Champion Boston Red Sox shirt back on. It was her favorite shirt, but for some reason she didn't tingle like she normally did when she put it on.

Don't go Theo. Theo don't go. Don't go Theo. Theo don't go.

"What was that?" Edith asked.

"What was what?" the Count asked back.

They looked at Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily. "I didn't say anything," she said. And she hadn't for she was immersed in a daydream about cocks, fighting.

Don't go Theo. Theo don't go. Don't go Theo. Theo don't go.

"There it is again," Edith said.

"Has it been 210 seconds yet?" asked the count. "Because if not we should pick that loaf up off the floor."

"Yes, yes, quite right," Edith said, still distracted by the voiced she heard. She collected herself and then scooped up her loaf and returned it between her thighs.

"I'm sure the Count has a platter or something we can put that on," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily said.

"That's okay," Edith said. "I'm good."

And with that they made their way to the kitchen to prepare meatloaf paninis.

This post is dedicated to the triangle offense.

***There is a NEW PHOTO***