Striking a Happy Medium-The Filmstar

More silliness with Madam Zsa Zsa and pals, including her trusty sprit guide Johnny Two Rivers.

Kindle gets another dedication because she thinks the whole idea is a laugh riot. Thanks Kindle.

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A Victorian sitting room. The room was dark, thick scarlet drapes drawn tightly. Heavy, dark furniture. A dark wood sideboard, occasional tables. Thick Persian rugs on the teak floor. A large mahogany table, surrounded by dark oak chairs. The gaslighting had been turned off. The only light came from a few guttering candles. Shadows played on the walls, and across the anxious faces of those seated at the table.

At the head of the table sat the renowned medium, Madame Zsa Zsa. She wore a purple turban, dark eyeshadow, thick rouge, her sinewy neck rising from a purple velvet dress. Heavy silver hoops jingled form her ears. Her thin wrists were heavy with bangles. Many rings on her claw like hands.

She spoke. A heavy Eastern European accent.

‘We are gathered. We must relax. We must open our minds. We must become receptive. We must become empty vessels for the spirit guides. We must let them in. Close your eyes. Let the spirits in.’

Eyes closed around the table. Madame Zsa Zsa began to breathe heavily.

‘He is here. The spirit is here! Who are you spirit? Tell us your name! I command you!’

Zsa Zsa spoke with a new voice. Deep, guttural.

‘My name is Johnny Two Rivers. I am half Apache, half paleface. I was a great scout for the US Cavalry.’

Sotto voce, a comment. ‘That’s all we need, bloody Billy No Mates.’

‘Silence! The spirits are easily scared. Tell us Johnny Two Rivers. Do you have a message for anyone?’

Guttural. ‘I have a message for a... I cannot read his soul, do not know his name. Jim? Jim Beam? James Beam? His presence is hard to read. James Beam?’

‘Err, that might be me, ma’am. Sir.’

A young man, very handsome, hair in a quiff, white tee shirt with a softpack of cigarettes rolled into one of the sleeves. A leather jacket over the back of his chair.

‘Your name?’

‘James Dean, ma’am. Sir. It’s James Dean.’

‘I have a message for you, James Dean.’

‘Yes ma’am. Sir. I’m listening.’

‘Do not buy a Porsche. Buy a Buick. You cannot go wrong with a Buick. Big, comfortable, reliable. Safe. Do not buy a Porsche.’

‘Aw shoot ma’am. Sir. I took delivery of the Speedster this afternoon.’

‘It will all end badly, James Dean.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind ma’am. Sir. I surely will take care.’