Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish had the nerve to enter the local gin hall and waltz by me with her friend from Fisher Island and, then, to start loud proclamations from a point immediately opposite me. I nipped that in the bud by promptly moving my station to her side. This pomposity thinks she has something, now, on me. As I remember it, last Friday a tender, young Latino lifted by veil and gently placed a kiss on my cheek; Mamie somehow photo-shopped it to look like we were sucking each others' tongue's out. This coming from a woman who has done more to bring down proper society in the last two weeks than the estate tax.
Not content with bickering with me in public and fondling Mr. Astor in such a way, Mamie has bribed the local fish mongers to not sell me enough tuna to chum the waters around her, when we do go boating. I have become obsessed with the story of how Nero invented a collapsible boat to kill his mother, Agrippina. Of course, Agrippina managed to swim to shore, which leads me to the totally, logically conclusion that--with her natural buoyancy--Mamie could safely float to The Bahamas and, still, come back to haunt me. My grandmother used to tell me, "Stick with the classics; they will never let you down." Now, I am forced to return to the only, sure thing I know to get rid of a rival....

...the poison ring.