Hey gang,
You know, I've been concerned just how Charles Delaware Tate has been doing, since Count Petofi stripped him of his amazing artistic abilities. When we saw Charles the other day, the poor guy was really down in the dumps.
I tell you, I was glad to see Pansy Faye drop by the cottage to say hello and, hopefully, brighten Charles' day. (Did you notice that Charles seemed so despondent and out of it, that he hardly reacted when that chintzy window shade fell down?)
Perhaps Charles should start selling off the paintings that he completed before Petofi pulled the plug on his artistic talent. (In retrospect, Charles should have jumped on that offer from the Rev. Trask to paint Charity's portrait for a hefty commission fee before Charity/Pansy went through her own "change of life.") I'd hate to see Charles devolve into an embittered, alcoholic artist ala the late, lamented Sam Evans.
Hopefully, Charles has amassed sufficient funds from the sale of his earlier works to permit him to lead a sybaritic existence, traveling the world in search of fine wine, fine women and good song. You know, sort of like the lifestyle that Hugh Hefner and Teddy Kennedy have pursued throughout much of their adult lives.
Then again, Charles may devote the rest of his years on Earth to finding the one, true love of his life. Of course, you all know that I'm referring to the "Kathie Lee Gifford of the Nineteenth Century," that selfless vision of loveliness, Ms. Amanda Harris!
Can you think of any other similarly "noble" endeavors that Charles might pursue in an attempt to bring meaning and dignity to his life?
Bob the Bartender, hopeless believer in happy endings.