Ask Me a Question, Dammit!

Okay folks! Now I don't know much what I'm doin', but we got these blasted computer machines at the Theater Cafe—that's where I work—and I'm tryin' to do my best. So far, all I've been able to do is send a knee mail. Maxine, that's my business partner who owns the cafe with me, ran around all fuckin' week since we got these machines saying, "Winnie, send a knee mail! Did you send a knee mail yet?" I told her to hold her horses, but she's impatient sometimes. Now that she's getting her some Argentinean beef from the boy she's courting, Luciano, she's come out of her shell. But I shouldn't talk bad about her, since she's the one who figured out this page for me to write. 

Let me tell you a little bit about myself. My real name is Edwina. I got the nickname 'Winnie' when I danced with the Rockettes back—oh, Lord! Way back when. I live in Prairie Springs, Texas. I've been married on several occasions, and at 91 y.o., I'm swearing off testosterone. Anything with testicles can go marchin' the other direction. They're nothing but heartache, I tell ya. 

I've got me a cute little apartment at the rear of the cafe. It's supposed to be a secret, but I think most in town have figured out I live there. They've seen me comin' and goin' from behind the swiveling hutch on one occasion or another. Now, I wrote up above that I work here. Really, I own half of it with Maxine. She's a savvy business woman, picking a 91 y.o. as her partner. She's bound to have known I wouldn't be around much longer. 

I'm going to have to wrap this letter up. The arthritis in my left hand gets the best of me, but don't y'all worry. Ask me a question about anything, and I'll give ya' an answer. 

Well, fuck me silly. The mayor's wife just walked through the door. I'd better get from here and greet her. Small-town royalty! Ain't it a shame!