Told in The Garden District


Each sip takes me further out of this house and closer to death.  I hate my husband but I’m too afraid to leave him the regular way.  The children are so demanding.  They are not, as I tell my friends, “Little buckets of love.”  So, I will sit here and sip, and sip, and sip until I go away.  Suicide by sweet tea.



Told in The Garden District

I put the poison in her cup.  I swear I did.  He loved me before she came between us.  I guess I drank out of the wrong cup so now it’s me that’s dead.  Damn, I’ll have to think of another plan.  Oh!  I know,  I won’t leave and they will have to reach through me to touch each other.  It will become so tiresome and difficult and they  won’t understand why!  I guess now it’s me that’s come between them.


Told in Jackson Square

I will throw myself in the Mississippi if I have to marry him.  Either way I’ll die, but at least at the bottom of the river I won’t be sad.  This horrible white dress would drag me down.  I’m sure of it.

Don’t make me go in that church!

“Ave Maria” –  I don’t think so.  God is not looking after me either.

I know.  I’ll bide my time and make sure it’s him ends up at the bottom of the river.

“I do.”