UnBooks:Gone With d' Wind
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Released in 1935, Gone With d' Wind was the story of a simple Southern belle and the trouble that she unleashed in her March of Folly to win the hand of her next door neighbor in marriage.
Set on the eve of the Civil War, she couldn't have picked a worse time.
The book set all sorts of sales records, was made into a movie, then a Saturday morning cartoon and finally into a BBC miniseries. In 2007, Nintendo introduced the Gone With d' Wind video game for its Wii platform. And in 2009 the mysterious origin of the name Gone with the wind was unveiled during the 2009 Lebanon war between the original north and the south, where the south had won the war.
Scarlett O’Hara wasn’t what one would call the nicest looking woman around, but her father had money and that was good enough for the Tarlton twins. The twin boys were hovering about like flies round a cow flop, jockeying for position around her as she sat on the veranda in her sleeveless sprig green muslin dress with the darling off the shoulder look.
“Aw, c’mon Scarlett, you wouldn’t deny us a glimpse of pink before we head off to the barbeque for some competitive eating would you?” asked the runt twin. “Just show us a little bit-o-pink, won’t you?”
"Pink, pink, pink," she said in mock amusement. "By the sound of it, you boys are suckers for nipples. If I hear 'show me them pink things' one more time I think I will explode. Which one do you want to see, left, right or both?"
Just then, Mammy, the O’Hara’s massive black female mammy rounded the corner. “Miss Scarlett,” Mammy said, “It isn’t proper for a young woman of your breeding to show your bosom to just anyone, now please, I beseech you, wear you garments properly lest I call on your father and ask him to lecture you.”
“Shit, Mammy. Don’t my associates git to get a glimpse of my bazooms?”
Mammy sighed. “Miss Scarlett, how many times do we have to have this discussion, and the answer is invariably the same, ‘No’. These shiftless young men who loiter 'round you are not deserving of such familiarities. Now please, go upstairs and ready yourself for the picnic at the neighbors, and ‘No’ you may not wear your hot pants.”
“Kathleen!” Scarlett hollered at the top of her lungs. “Bitch, you look fierce,” she added as she looked at her friend Kathleen Calvert. Kathleen was one happening Ho, and smart, too. The two friends admired each other’s outfits. "How's about we go to the sandbox for a quick scratch and quick a sprinkle of boob glitter before making a bee line for the bar-b-que buffet," asked Kathleen. "You got the quarter, I got the time," hooted Scarlett and the two started for the stairs.
As the two ascended the grand staircase at the Wilkes home, Scarlett looked down and saw a man old enough and rich enough to be her father. It was. But standing next to him was a fine looking man.
“Kathleen,” ask demanded. “Who dat?”
“Girrrrl…that be Commodore Rhett Butler and he is one man-ho to steer clear of.”
“What kinda fucked up name is Rhett,” Scarlett demanded to know. “He’s looking right at me, all right."
“Kathleen, get a load at those shoes he's wearing! Looks like he could have stole those off a midget. You think it a portend of whats in his pants?” Scarlett wondered.
“I hear tell he does more to make up for less. You know, his motto is ‘no muff too tough, ugly women got 'ginas too’,” Kathleen said. “Besides, if I ever had to git rescued from a city on fire, he'd be a mighty fine looking man to be with, know what I'm sayin'?”
“That Ashley Wilkes is one fine piece of man,” Scarlett said a little too out loud.
“I just was saying that you is one lucky Ho to get you hooks into that man.”
Melanie copped a ‘tude and said “Well you can appreciate him from afar but he’s my man and not some fool whose biggest ambition is to sleep his way to the middle.” There were a chorus of “woooo's" and "hoooo’s” in the background.
Before the two battling women could slap each other or lock there nail extensions into each others hair, Melanie’s dim witted brotha Chuckles came running up and screamed “Them crazy Yankees up north done declared war on us!”
The crowd was suddenly awash in motion, and Scarlett watched as Melonhead Hamilton went running into the arms of Ashley Wilkes.
“Hey, Chuckles,” called out Scarlett in between cracking her gum. “Get your sorry ass over here.”
Before the man with the low IQ knew it he was on his way to marrying Scarlett O’Hara.
Melanie Hamilton Wilkes sat on the chair in her Aunt Pity Pat’s living room and tried to keep a level head. Scarlett had been widowed when one the of Yankee troops pulled a drive-by shooting and knocked off Chuckles Hamilton.
“Bitch,” said Scarlett. “What you looking at?”
Melanie’s nostrils flared “Just some trash in my Aunt’s living room.” With that the two women were on their feet and about to get into it when Mammy entered into the living room carrying a tray of refreshingly cool ice tea.
“Ladies! Sit down. NOW.” The two complied.
“It seems that we are here for the duration and I have designed a chart to show which one of us will do which task each day.”
Both women looked over the chart. “I have to clean up this dog’s dishes?” asked Scarlett.
Again Mammy was called to break the two pregnant women up before another fight started when there was a knock at the door.
“Who dat?” both girls asked at the same time.
“Why good evening Commodore Butler, how nice of you to stop by this evening,” greeted Mammy.
Butler came into the room and looked at the two women like they were ripe for the picking. “Good evening Ms. Wilkes – how’s you husband?” Melanie blushed.
“And Ms. Scarlett, how’s yours,” he asked.
“Last time I looked he still daid.”
"PRISSY," Scarlett called out. "Dear God in heaven what are we going to do? Miss Melanie is getting ready to heave d' baby out and what am I going do with one of those?"
Prissy thought to herself. She tried to remember what she had been taught at Oxford about child birth.
"I'm very sorry Miss Scarlett, but when it comes to delivering babies the only method that I know of was practiced by the ancient Egyptians and would require a large crockery filled with alligator manure into which the newborn could gently slide into," she proclaimed.
"We need what?"
"A crockery filled with Alligator dung." An artillery shell whizzed by the house, rattling the windows before it shook the house upon impact several blocks away. Prissy realized who she was dealing with when she saw Scarlett's blank stare. "It helps to reduce the stress of the newborn as it leaves its mother-womb into the active world."
"Alrighty." Scarlett could have slapped her that very moment, but if someone was going to have to run out and look for `gator poop, better Prissy than she. "Sounds like a plan."
Tara, the O’Hara family crib, lay wasted. The once fertile fields were now littered with the dead and rotting bodies of thousands of men who died in the battle for the hood. And Scarlet was none to pleased.
“Oh Ashley,” she cried as she looked around. “We are so fucked.”
Scarlett carefully negotiated the muddy streets of Atlanta as not to ruin her outfit. Mammy, who was still smoking mad about this plan followed Scarlett and complained ever step of the way.
“Miss Scarlett I feel that you have misjudged this wardrobe choice – look at all the lascivious stares that you are getting from all these strange men,” Mammy huffed.
“They just jealous 'cause they like what they see – and they'd like to see the stuff they can't see, see?” Still Mammy did have a point, the dress they had fashioned out Scarlett’s mother’s window treatments were awkward, but she felt they looked avant-guard, and that was what Commodore Butler liked.
“Scarlett! Look at you! Where did you get that dress?” His eyes followed every detail, every aluminum slat, although he found the two bars of stamped steel near her neckline a bit much.
“I got it in Venice – from a blind designer,” she said as she clanked about in a circle. “And Rhett, if you pull this cord, you can raise the hemline, and if you spin the wand you can adjust the slats for easy cooling.” Scarlett winked with the word cooling, hoping it would get his attention, and open his wallet in gratitude.
Following her second man's funeral, Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy was besides herself with grief. And her head was really messed because there was nothing left in the house to drink except some fake French perfume and it was nasty.
There was a knock on the door, followed by friendly voices, and the thudding footsteps of Mammy climbing the steps.
Mammy unlocked the door with her key and smiled widely. "Commodore Butler is here Miss Scarlett. Try not to screw this up for all of our sakes."
Scarlett sneered and then tried to pull herself together. Passing Mammy in the door she asked the faithful servant "Don't you have a baby to suckle or something like that?"
Speeding down the stair rail, she dismounted and "ta dah!" there was Rhett wearing his finest wife beater and sporting some massive guns. Scarlett felt weak in the knees – her drinking was affecting her balance.
"I suppose you greet all your visitors like this?"
She tried to muster a grin, but all her face could support was a sneer. "What would you prefer, a merrier widow?"
Butler crossed the room and grabbed her, and then slapped her. Scarlett smiled; she liked it. "This is getting to be a drag," Butler opined. "First you hook up with the wrong guy and then you make off with another dude, and then you come to me so I have to make bail for the stiff. Cut the bullshit Scarlett – C'mon, give me some sugar, Sugar."
At that moment she felt how much he wanted her, and she was careful not to shift her weight and crush his testicles.
"Alright, but I want a big wedding, and want to wear a white dress," she stated.
"White? You? You can wear whatever you want, just so long as I get to be the one who takes it off of you."
Scarlett closed the door to the house behind her behind and moped into the foyer. Rhett stood before her. “She daid?” he asked.
“She daid.” Scarlett replied.
“Miss Melanie died at 3:42 PM of a significant loss of blood due to a ruptured uterus. The doctor did everything he could to make her passing brief and comfortable,” reported Mammy. “Now if you will excuse me, I am going to take a medicinal sip of brandy and go to bed.” She then started waddling up the staircase to leave the two battling Butlers to duke it out alone.
“Dang, that’s a bitch,” said Butler.
“Oh, Rhett I have been such a bitch. Melanie was the closest thing that I ever had to a sister and now she’s daid.” Scarlett cried, her eye make-up ran down her cheeks. “Is there any hope for us two?”
Butler walked to the door. “Could have been but that three-way you got into with her and her man rubbed me the wrong way. Now don’t be looking at me like some wounded puppy. You made this bed now go sleep in it. Rhett Butler don’t eat no sloppy seconds.”
“But what will I do, where will I go and who is going pay for it?”
“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a rat's ass,” and with that he was gone.
Scarlett fell apart, literally. She dropped an ear ring here, a shoe over there and peeled off her false eyelashes. “I’m tired,” she yelled up at Mammy. “Come up with a plan to get us out this jam by tomorrow morning. I’m going to bed.”
Mammy was quite disgusted. "Mrs. Butler, I have had a very busy few years trying to keep up with you. Would you mind if I got started tomorrow."
By now, Scarlett had left a trail of clothing down the hall. "Yeah, whatever, tomorrow is another day...."