4th of July 1953: Betty One

Dear Mary Astor,

The 4th of July party is finished and I feel finished as well. How am I supposed to celebrate my country when my country is giving me such terrible material to work with! No wonder the State Department is filled with Communists. NOBODY CAN FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS. At least I am sure Dr. Engelbert had a marvelous time. He had a skip in his step, though I don’t see how he could stand it. I suppose my chiffon cake was just that good.

So, you know how Tweedledee insisted her brother Tweedledum perform at my party? Well, those two showed up an hour early, put a giant jack-in-the-box on the backyard stage, and then disappeared to the poolhouse to prepare, or some bullshit. Whatever they did, it smelled like they sacrificed a skunk in there. She told me that’s what they did. Freaking clowns. Her husband came at a decent time with the little twins, who are better behaved and more mature than the so-called grown up twins.

The [Eleven]s came twenty minutes before noon, the darlings. The [Four] family with little Davey came ten minutes before noon, no complaint there. Of course Dr. Engelbert arrived five minutes before noon, with Germanic precision. I should know, I’m half German. He was so distraught when I brought up his lack of a plus one. I wished I could have held him in my arms and licked the tears from his good eye, but I am a good, married Catholic woman. Anyway, I was distracted from that by the arrival of the [Twelve]s. Martha just had to cheese me off by apologizing for being an hour late. An hour late!!! Those slackers thought the party started at eleven! How do you mistake noon for eleven? Her sleepy husband pointed out they were on time anyway, but it’s the principal of the thing! How will we compete with the Ruskies if you can’t manage to come on time! And they didn’t bring a side! Does anyone read the invitation? By the time I sent them back on their way home to get a side, the [Ten]s had arrived, right at noon. Five minutes later, the [Eight]s arrived. Benji blamed Rose, it seems that woman can never do anything right. The [Three]s arrived after that, and Michael immediately dove into the pool. Next, the [Nines] came, but Roxy only wanted to talk to Rose, not me, the hostess. Rude girl. The [Five]s arrived at 12:30, like they’re still on Tel Aviv time. The [Seven]s arrived at 12:43, I suppose Grace will tell Father Ostiguy all about that. The [Six]s were the last to arrive at 1pm. They said it wasn’t illegal, but it should be.

Then Martha came back and said she failed to cook her side so she brought a package of salmon. SALMON!!! My invitation said “NO SHELLFISH.” She said it wasn’t shellfish, but I am not taking the chance of Dr. Engelbert getting sick again! But then Raymond came to me with a scraped knee from tripping on the poolside, so I was too distracted to make Martha to bring a proper side. Leaving me with only eleven sides for lunch. Ten, actually, Peggy’s food was inedible, again. At least Jake took over the barbie from my deadbeat husband and grilled up some great patties and weiners, it was very sexy. Kath does not know how to keep her husband; she came without makeup, when a face like hers needs to be lacquered. Anyway, the food still ended up good but I threw up the entire lunch and supper two. Must keep my trim figure.

Everyone tried their best to dress as well as me, but they failed. Roxy looked like a total slut in her two-piece swimming suit. I got to see Jake in his “cossie” and he looked very fine. For some reason, Mary’s husband John did not swim. I think with his long legs he could swim as well as a swan on a lake^[1] and beat Peggy’s jock husband Michael and even Jake. I told Mary that he had nothing to be ashamed of, unlike Dennis^[2] and his hairy Greek ass, but she said he was just modest. His modesty only piques my curiosity, but there’s so many mysteries in this cul de sac, I don’t have time to explore them all.

Then came time for the three o’clock clown show, and of course it fucking rained. I don’t know how that show went. Polly did his silly little clown thing in the living room. Raymond helped out. I should not have let him, he’ll probably want to be an unemployed faggot clown who lives with his sister when he grows up, since Polly makes it look so good. Meanwhile, the adults went to the basement.

It was then that Dr. Engelbert brought up an interesting proposition. No, not an orgy. He is a respectable widower. He proposed a self-improvement seminar in Deep Creek Lake! I am all for self-improvement. I have read How to Make Friends and Influence People so many times, almost as much as the Holy Bible; it is my secular Bible. As Americans, we should always improve ourselves so we can properly compete with the Ruskies. My best friend Mary agrees and she is joining me at this seminar. I love her, but I am sure I will improve more than her. Plus I will get to spend more time with the handsome and charming Dr. Engelbert.

After the rain ended, we all went back outside to enjoy the pool. Except Peggy insisted we play some stupid party games she made up. They all sounded way too complicated. We also did not want to play a bridge tournament! Nobody wants to play party games when there’s a pool that I paid good money to build and maintain, that we can play in! She is always obsessed with playing organized games, I don’t know what her problem is. Eventually she just wandered off and drank all my vodka and fucked off for the rest of the night. I hope Dr. Engelbert can cure her.

Cocktail hour came. I insisted on no hard liquor before five, and everyone followed that, except of course Peggy. Ben said he was glad to get rum finally, since that’s his one vice in his regimented life as a Satanist and a former Navy officer. He’d been begging for it all afternoon. At least he didn’t ask for sodomy or the lash, though I suspect he’s into that.

Finally, dinner. I have my complaints about how Belulah talks, it’s either too country or too uppity, but she makes some wonderful fried chicken. That is truly her gift from God.^[3] I sometimes wonder about the virtue of employing help from Columbine’s Circle, but as they say, they do send the best help for every family. However, I don’t think we should have to pay her extra for her to work on Independence Day. She should have done her patriotic duty for free! But I suppose, if she did, the Communists would whine about that “slavery.”

Then at nine there was my gun show. I started off by telling the story of how, when I was thirteen, I was coming home from Catholic boarding school with my sister when a Soviet-sent werewolf attacked us. A very good story, but Davey kept yelling “woof!” and Joan was too busy being a silent Samurai to stop him. After that, Marge said that she brought aerial fireworks and said my ground fireworks were “too sissy.” I tried to explain that all responsible, non-criminal, non-Communist Americans should be armed and prepared to shoot even their loved ones like I shot my sister, but Marge argued people should have the right to own a nuclear bomb if they think the mushroom cloud looks pretty! Then Marge set off her fireworks! My gun show was completely ruined! And then the party was over.

I went to my guest room where I smelled that Martha had been eating fish. What a glutton. I dragged her slacker husband out of bed and sent them home. Then woke up Peggy who was asleep on the pool table. Belulah helped me clean up.

The insane people who live in this cul de sac! I wish I did not have to invite them all. But my best friend Mary says I should invite everyone, and all the Marys in Heaven including my Mary Olson and the Virgin Mary agree. In my dreams Mary Olson did tell me to invite everyone. Now at the seminar I'll have to see them all, including Martha, but that's just the cross I have to bear.

So this is how the Pursuit of Happiness goes. I have life and liberty, but I don’t feel happy. I tried too hard today to be happy, and I failed because everyone did not follow my directions. Clearly, they wanted this to be their party, not mine. Everyone wanted to do their own thing.

I want to be happy. If I go to this self-improvement seminar, I know Dr. Englebert will teach me to be happy. That’s the American way. Dr. Engelbert was a German; but he has become an American, just like my German mother did, and my Swedish grandparents before her.

I must be the happiest housewife in this cul de sac … or else I will die.