past 10050 lonesome lane, cielo; to the peak of the love that was runnin'

"it was so quiet that night - i'm sure you could have heard the sound of ice rattling in the cocktail tumblers in the homes way down the street."

the street of skid row in arcadia, usually lively, was tired on the night of february 17 and exuded a misgiving calm. kathleen's 312 manor lies at the end of the street, in a semi-seclusive, albeit genteel neighborhood. everything considered - someone should have heard something. fresh from "the human slaughterhouse on skid row," as the papers have commissioned it; kathleen has sixteen stab wounds, some inches deep, several bruised ribs and heavy rope-burns around her throat. for the first time, the doll's story of the bloodbath at the 312 will be heard.

kathleen, "the doll," doesn't have a manager. she doesn't have a spokesperson, an assistant, or even a maid. what she does have, though, is her brother sodapop - who "fixes what needs to be fixed," - and headlock, who "drives the car." there is also nineteen year-old trotsky, who tends to the property while kathleen or jimmy is away. that being said, she is not one of your run-of-the-mill celebrities, what always flanked with a fleet of people, nor is she the wild drug-dealing party monster that the papers typify her as. "she is the doll," jimmy illustrates, "when she's good, she's really good - but when she's bad, she's better."

the way to kathleen and jimmy's lonesome lane estate takes you up the hills, beyond the valley, high above the city of cielo. the drive goes along a curvy, beaten, single-lane road that dead ends at a gate - the gate of the kisses' 10050 summer retreat. her residence at skid row is now easily distinguishable, thanks to all the cop cars and press vans; to boot, the house has been spotlighted in countless television news specials and features nonstop since the day of the murders. the home in cielo is quite the opposite. these are the hills where the pretty people live - where the real world ceases to exist. the doll's domicile is set back against dense trees and thick flowers; hidden in the folds of the land and totally invisible during the daytime. howbeit, in the night, her lights can be seen all the way down in the valley.

i arrive at 10050 lonesome lane in the middle of the afternoon and it was hot - 89°; a bizarre temperature for early march in cielo. maybe summer has come early this year, to the delight of all. i approach the black security gates, entangled with budding primrose vines, and a grim veil drapes over me. a few minutes pass and headlock runs up; he motions me to come closer to the gate. he asks to see my credentials and after a bit of small talk, presses a button to allow me entry. as we walk up the cracked driveway, well overdue for a pave-job, i notice that he's carrying a gun on his hip. i also observe that the usual troupe of flashers aren't piled outside, caterwauling to catch a glimpse of the doll - they have been keeping their distance since the murders.

casing the place, i make my way towards the main house - i see a garage to my left, the doll's black gravedigger parked outside, dripping and gleaming bright; obvious victim of a pre-summer car wash. continuing on, off in the distance, i see a large, lavish-looking pool, surrounded by thick, shady bushes and blossoming patches of mountain laurel and lilac, the ground nearby blanketed in wildflowers. to the right, is the main house. far in the back is the guest bungalow, on the edge of the ravine, where trotsky rooms. in all, it's at least three times the size of her skid row property. the 312 was "elbow to elbow with snobby snobs and had a backyard that you could spit from one end to the other without too much of a headache." in so many words, it was a small squat. 10050 lonesome lane - nicknamed 'the love shack' by kathleen - is a not just any port in the storm; it is the port in the storm.

she peeks out from a window upstairs and then opens it to shout inaudibly. moments later, she appears on the lawn. her once tan and beautiful body is now littered with ragged scrapes and spotty bruises; she has gauze dressings on her arms and legs, hiding deep gashes, as well as a thick bandage wrapped around her ribs, supporting a gaggle of contused ribs. there are dark, purple rope burns around her neck.

she doesn't say hello, she just turns toward the view of the valley and lifts her hands to shield the sun from her eyes; i follow suit. then, once a few moments have passed, she says, "booze, dust, breaking hearts - believe what you will; make up more if you want." i tell her that i have no means to hang her out to dry with the fence. she smiles and politely quips, "good, because i know people who know people who could break your legs if you do."

headlock yells to her from the garage that she has a phone call in the main house. she treads inside and i, getting used to the feeling, am right behind her. her 10050 love shack is an attractive place and in many ways a simple, modest home. the front door opens into the living room - i spy wooden floors, white walls and exposed beams; a wood stove sits in one corner and an ample bookcase full of records stands in another. there is a hayloft overhead, ladder leading to the plush, pillow garret above.

the wolfman jack show is on the radio, sounds of laughter and happiness ring through the lively household. that is, until i glance down at the sofa in front of me - draped over the back is an american flag, stained heavily with blood. in front of the lounge is a zebra rug, decorated in a similar fashion. a blood-spattered lamp off in the distance fits the design motif perfectly.

"pretty gruesome, right?" she inquires with a grin and hands me a drink. i nod and take a sip - it's straight whiskey and ice and not the iced tea i was stupidly expecting. i swallow and hold back the tears as she continues, "you think that's bad? jimmy and his kid brother, joey, received the charming chore of cleaning up the crime scene after the fuzz was done with it."

i feel a look of disbelief come across my face and jimmy, loping in from the kitchen, says, "it's all true - every word." he is tall, thin and shirtless. candy bar in one hand and beer in the other, he is none other than kathleen’s main squeeze. he tells me that once he and joey had removed the furniture to replace the carpet, they could see exactly what kind of evil-doings took place. jimmy tells me that joey found other significant pieces of evidence, but refused to expose it to the police or press. by the time the two had removed the carpet, blood was found underneath, having soaked into the wooden floor below. also, in jimmy and kathleen’s bedroom, the filmmaker boogie had been stabbed, and in his blood were the words 'piggys' and 'live freaky, die freaky' written on the walls. a piece of rope was left swinging over the rafters, clearly deemed useless for the investigation. jimmy says, "i lost it. there was blood - all over the place. it looked like the set of a horror flick. i love her and i find it hard to talk about this and say what i mean, because in this instance, it is not my reputation on the line, but the reputation of the girl i love." jimmy, a man not often sodden with tears, pauses briefly to wipe his eyes. he continues, "she is the toughest girl in the whole wide world."

kathleen stops him and suggests we go out to by the pool, as the heat has become stifling in the house. jimmy grabs more beer from the refrigerator; kathleen grabs her cigarettes and illegal drugs. in the loggia by the water, she skins up a joint and continues for jimmy, "there was a lot of talk in the papers about parties in the house," she says, "and it's all true, what the people say. the 312 was the party that never ended. it was a seldom sight to not see the gates constantly opening and closing - people coming and going. i would be working and jimmy would be working; yet, every night there was always someone coming over. i’ve been there. in my house there were plenty of parties where people smoked drugs and guzzled booze. i have never been to a single party where someone wasn't stoned."

jimmy emerges from the shade and, once realizing kathleen is rolling fatty, scampers over to trotsky’s guest house and invites him in on it. it takes her a mere minute - she is skilled in her craft and has perfected her art. a few quick flicks of the wrist and her pile of grass is gone, revealing one rather fat doobie. "time waits for no man," she says, and lights it up, without trotsky and jimmy.

the two return and jimmy says, "you know, when i phoned her that day from mulholland - that could have been the last time i talked to her." he takes a hit and says, "she was bitching at me, because i was trying to weasel out of attending a party with her. she also talked about possibly getting signed with hep parade, to which she was keyed up about. it just seems so silly now."

"you would have never believed it, though!" kathleen laughs, "the killers - they looked just like kids! they wore beads and had long hair and were barefoot - they totally fit the part of someone you would see hanging around the 312 on any given night." kathleen goes on to say that one of the young girls, sent to check out the property for other party guests, smiled and waved to her through one of the windows - so kathleen smiled and waved right back. the girls continued walking, casing the grounds. "they had to be the dumbest crooks alive," kathleen says, "trotsky snores louder than jimmy does. if you ask me, that's the million dollar question - why did they pass trotsky by?"

she shrugs the mystery off for another time and carries on, "the next thing i know - and this is no shit," she says, "a young, blonde boy came into soda's bedroom with a knife and told me to follow him. i was scared shitless." she and her friends accompanied the man into the living room, where another man with a gun was waiting for them. "you’ve got to understand that these weren't your average horror movie monsters - they looked like barefoot, hitchhiking, grass-smoking kids! i didn't know if i should laugh, cry for help or what." the group of eight stood trapped in front of the 312's stone fireplace. once assembled, the older man with the gun demanded they lay on the ground and bram goodman, brother of beau, said, "why? what do you want?"

kathleen looks up from skinning up another smoke, "so he shot him." bram’s eyes opened wide; he fell to the floor instantly and the girls began to scream - some for help and "some just for the hell of it."

the blonde man with the knife then started to jump around the room, trying to scare the girls. he hopped back and forth and would yell, "watch out!" and wave his knife in front of their faces.

he stepped on bram’s hand and bram yelped, "so he put two more bullets in him," kathleen says. although she doesn't seem fazed by the tale, there's a cold tone in her voice.

jimmy wraps a lanky arm around her shoulder and says in a low tone, "it's okay baby - we're going to get them." he is referring to the instance that two of the assailants managed to flee the 312 property and are still at large. jimmy tells me that he filled up a gun cabinet in the 10050 love shack and now has kathleen sleep with a pistol by her bed. "i told her to shoot first and ask questions later."

kathleen keeps going, "they shot bram and boogie, who, up until that point had been filming everything, lowered his camera. naturally, the killers demanded her pick it back up and continue recording." the film remains in evidence for now, "but i’m sure it will be out in no time. the toybox will not have the release of DIG!

compromised any further." next, the young man asked if the group had any money - only the girls did. with many opportunities having already passed to escape and very few chances left, kathleen began thinking of a way to beat feet, "there's a back door, but that just leads to a gate, and i need keys to get out or i have to punch in a code. it was basically a murder movie and i was trying to buy myself time. i kept asking if he wanted assorted expensive items in my bedroom, which is all the way upstairs - i tried to give him a pair of jimmy's boots, a diamond ring and my collection of overdrawn credit cards, to which he all denied." by the time the four made it back to the living room, the man with the gun sent the man with the knife off to get some rope to tie everyone together with. he returned and tied kathleen up first by wrapping the rope around her neck and threw it over the rafters above and then "he tried to tie my hands up, but he did a piss-poor job." kathleen remained silent and the young man tied up the rest of her friends. as he had run out of rope, he fetched towels from the bathroom and poorly tied up the rest. the knots were useless, "very loose," and mostly for show.

at that time, one of their girls came in from the outside. she said that she was posted lookout and everything was cool, until she heard some rustling in the bushes. "she described a person that could only be the creature from the black lagoon or beau goodman and said that she stabbed him. in fact, i’m quite certain that her words were, 'i stabbed him until he stopped moving.'"

jimmy interrupts her and snorts, "beau? good riddance to bad rubbish!"

kathleen ignores him and goes on, "the man who had the gun followed the girl outside to investigate and told the younger man that when he would send the girls in and when he came back inside, 'everybody had better be dead and the scene had better be as gruesome as they could make it.'" the man raised his knife and soda's girlfriend, daisy, freed her hands to tackle him. "the two scrambled for the knife and rolled around on the ground for a flash." as the rest of kathleen and company escaped their terrycloth shackles, daisy was sustaining defense wounds. that is, until, "soda swooped in like a papa eagle and tossed the kid off daisy. took the kid's knife and gave him what for. sodapop stabbed him a couple times and then i bounced his head like a basketball off the brick facing on the fireplace."

"before i could make it outside," she says, opening a beer, her second, and taking a swill, "i heard six shots and two bodies drop. i heard screams, i heard people running around. it was like a party - a party of death."

sodapop and kathleen ran towards the main gates. there they found one of the killers. "i got the girl who stabbed beau - i got her knife." the two then proceeded to stab, until her "body gurgled blood." after which, kathleen then opted to, "beat her in the head with a rock." she smiles, "i don't want to sugarcoat it - i did some things that were not very nice to those people, but they asked for it. i should have been better prepared; i was not and as a result, i was forced to use crude tools to get the job done."

thereon, the man with the gun caught up to them. "he smacked me right on the top of the head with the gun and started pistol-whipping soda in the face. i pounced on his back and i got a couple good ones in with the knife, but he shook me loose." coming to, she saw the remaining murderess chasing boogie and johnny frigiletti, the young filmmakers, back into the house. "they didn't come out," kathleen says, "but the girl did."

kathleen watched in horror as the girl hunted daisy down and attacked her in the grass. "it was so quick - knife in, knife out; over and over again. i don't know how you could get a kick out of something like that." at this moment, kathleen ran to the main gates and began screaming for help. as she tried to scramble up and over them, the man with the gun pulled her down and into the grass. "i had that rope around my neck and he started dragging me by it. i was like his little puppy - tired from brawling all night and weak from all the wounds i had sustained. i had no fight left in me. the papers say that he 'stabbed me until i stopped making noise,' but that's bullshit. the last thing i remember was him shaking the knife at me and bellowing, 'how does it feel to be one of the beautiful people?' i felt the first three or four pokes, but after that - i was out for the count."

she designates here as a good place to break. the sun is setting in cielo, a lovely shade of lavender and pink. kathleen stares off and says, "and that's the fact, jack. i don't know shit about beau hitching to the l'amour, considering he was drenched in blood and probably crawled on hands and knees out the front gates--"

"--besides," jimmy interrupts, "i heard that friends of yours were driving down skid row and spotted him. they pulled over and after he told him what had just happened, they gave him a ride to the l’amour."

"yeah, sure. you just never do know with him - it could be an illness or it could be an act. he’s like the boy who cried wolf, i swear." kathleen woke up in the hospital hours later. by then, the bodies on the 312 property had either been sent off for immediate care or to the morgue, and the cops had begun their investigation. "they rudely rousted trotsky and scared the shit out of him. they handcuffed him and took him outside for a tour of the corpses on the grounds," and then incarcerated him for seven counts of homicide. arresting officers reported that he had 'no life' in his eyes. he was barefoot, shirtless and genuinely spooked. These charges were later dropped, as, "he didn't do it. i know who did it, i saw all their little scumbag faces. and the ones that aren't dead yet, i’m going to find."

jimmy quips, "oh yeah? and just how are we going to do that?"

kathleen smiles and pinches his cheek, "they're hippies with knives - how tough do you think it'll be?" she turns to me, "and that's the name of that tune!"

with story time over, kathleen hands me a beer and sends me off on the road. i blunder around the property in a daze and confuse myself for a good fifteen minutes. whereupon, i wander into the garage and confess to headlock that i was lost on the estate and looking for the main gates. he points off in the right direction and i kick off. to my luck, the grounds are well-lit, mostly thanks to the white christmas-tree lights strung around the fences; hung and left up by the after a party. i glance back in the direction of the main house and see kathleen sitting on the front porch, barely visible in the light. only her silhouette and a flash of golden hair are distinguishable from the driveway; but, still, it makes me think, "wow, she sure is the beautiful one."

i don't like jokes, so i don't find this very funny.....

the million dollar brat is expecting a brat of her very own

okay, i don't even know where to begin. my head has just barely stopped spinning from the news about kathleen and joey's sudden engagement and now the papers are reporting that the one and only doll has a bun in the oven. and no, reporters didn't squeeze the news out of sodapop for once - it was kathleen herself who proudly phoned the dailies' office early today to confirm the good news. still, it was to no avail - this morning's headlines rang like an obituary : ARCADIAN ROYALTY, KATHLEEN AND JOEY KISS, PLANNING SHOTGUN WEDDING. 

those sick dickheads! i mean, she gave them an inch and they took a mile. i don't know; if you ask me, this whole thing stinks like a sleazy, old-fashioned feat for publicity. think about it - the doll's new year's resolutions were to - you guessed it - do boatloads of cocaine this coming year! i guess she'll have to forget all about that now; because, being knocked up means giving up almost everything she lives for : chasing the dragon, guzzling 40s, jumping rope, taking fat rips off of a frosty bong, doing the twist to oldies music, taking whippets, smoking ciggies and slamming speedballs. well, sucks to be her! i'm going to do tons of speedballs out of my frosty bong while skipping rope and make her so jealous. so, before kathleen gets ahead of herself and enrolls in lamaze classes, she can go ahead and check herself into the nearest rehab - let's get the future best mother of this galaxy a little detoxification and she'll be good to go.

speaking of, also featured in today's paper was the backlash on the doll's baby broadcast. everybody and their dog tripped over themselves to get in the dailies and say something about it! joey said, "the word around the campfire is true - kathleen and i are as happy as a dog with two tails. we really only got the news ourselves, but we wanted to be the first to spill to the fence."

sodapop cola said, "i just can't wait to teach the little angel how to swear and flip people off." um....yeah, right, soda - more like teach the little angel how to dial the flashers to leak information at the drop of a dime.

headlock said, "i'm happy for the kids." from there he began to dribble on about how he wanted to be a part of the kiss family.....or something. he said, "i would love nothing more than to be front row throughout the kid's life.....i'll build the baby a soapbox car to race in, maybe be the one to give him his first beer and play catch with him in the yard - i'll be like grandpa headlock." um, earth to gramps - it's not 1934! there are no soapbox car races anymore! that shit hasn't been around for a long time. and, just how old is headlock going to be when kathleen and joey's baby is ready for their first beer? 316 years old? get your head out of the clouds, grandpa!

for the rest of the spread, reporters rounded up all of kathleen's old rent boys - even the stinky rat beau badman crawled out of the sewer to make a statement - and the lads each gave their own sincere response.

loyal said, "on behalf of the lost boys, we'd like to congratulate the happy couple and say that we all can't wait to corrupt the little lamb. also, the hell boys want me to say that shortly after the birth, your kid is going to be inducted as an honorary member of their gang. if there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask." gross - i wouldn't let those drooling, bandanna-donning punks anywhere near my kid, even with a blood test and hazmat suit.

maynard b. alberkraut opted for his classic role of sappy romantic and - aside from making it seem like he was still in love with kathleen - gushed, "despite her reputation, she was born to be a mother; and with joey, her child will not only be blessed with beauty, but brains as well. i wish for them nothing but the stars and hope that kathleen's pregnancy goes smoothly." okay, i can totally see joey throwing the doll a 'really?' look the entire time he read maynard's contribution - i know that i did."

beau, in-between wiping his snotty nose on his sleeve and taking fat slugs out of a flask, followed maynard's suit and targeted the doll in his statement. beau said, "got any heroin?" no, i'm kidding. he said, "wowie zowie, doll, i never thought i'd see the day where you were with child. i'll bet that you end up having the toughest baby in the whole wide world - in fact, i hope you do. i'm glad that someone could make you happy - lord knows i tried." sadly, that actually wasn't a joke - beau is pretty deluded. the former fling of kathleen's wrapped up his soapbox set on a lighter note, with, "i hope your old man - they tell me his name is joey - continues to do good by you. if he doesn't, you know that you can always call me." LOL @ that nonsense! i'm sure the doll would sooner gargle battery acid.

lastly, jimmy kiss - joey's older brother - kept from sobbing and through gritted teeth, remarked, "congratulations to them both - i'll bet joey will be a great father and i just know i'm going to have to spoil the hell out of that brat. l'chaim!" well, give him all the candies and toys that you want, but keep him away from the blow! if the child truly is of doll descent, one dance with the white lady would surely be one dances too many!

baby babble got the last laugh and said, "i've been knocked up all of fifteen minutes and aliens vacationing on saturn's rings have already sent their congratulations. mind your own goddamn business or i'll sic joey on you." then, she added, "and did i hallucinate or did beau goodman actually address me? i thought he was dead already...." okay, kathleen didn't say the last part, but i'm sure that she wanted to. she really should have - for her baby's sake.

in other doll news, her puppy dog - wingnut - made the morning news when he slithered underneath the kiss cradle gates at four this morning and began scampering down lisbon drive. one of the beautiful one's candid photographers - on a stakeout for pregnancy snapshots - spotted the pup. he rang the telephone number listed on wingnut's tag - kathleen answered, mumbled inaudibly for a moment and, before slamming the receiver down, screamed "go fuck yourself!" naturally, the flasher's next call was to the local arcadian television station. wingnut roamed around the stage set for most of the morning, until kathleen phoned in and began bitching out the television anchors for kidnapping her dog! without even so much as a warning, the doll barged onto the scene as the news was airing live and demanded the return of her beloved puppy. there has never been a soul that said no to the million dollar brat and lived to tell the story, so wingnut was placed back in the loving arms of his master.

kathleen made her grand exit off of the programme, following a dig at the kisses' offspring - the lead news lady kidded, "let's hope, for your sake, that your seed is smarter than wingnut and stays inside the gates." the doll smashed a tray of coffee cups and called the anchorwoman a, "cunt who lives on asshole avenue in loserland." then, baby babble kicked up her ballet slippers and stormed out of the station; but not before she flipped off the cameras, still recording live. that's my girl!

is joey going to make an honest woman out of kathleen?

the doll is affianced...................and to a kiss no less!

earlier this week, joey kiss was reported to have been seen shopping for engagement rings in arcadia - joey told those close to him that he feels kathleen is 'the one.' and now kathleen's camp has gone and confirmed the worst : the two are, in fact, engaged to one another. you know, i really doubt that the doll feels joey is 'the one.' she only feels that way about candy, cocaine, words and smoking doobies. though, and i hate to admit it, joey is my favorite out of all of her victims.

jimmy was too similar to her, maynard b. alberkraut was a bore - beau goodman was a creep and loyal was too young for her; joey, on the other hand, seems to have domesticated the once wild honeypie. i mean, don't get me wrong - she probably still hovers over dusty mirrors like there's no tomorrow, but at least she's happy! thus, joey kiss is much better; much better than jimmy, that is.

speaking of, after jimmy was seen browsing downtown for rings - alongside brothers, joey and johnny - he even went as far as to tell the press that he is 'over the moon' that the two are in love. he said that he's glad his loss could be someone's gain - even if it's his baby brother's. i'm not even kidding; he really did say that shit - although i'm 99% positive that he's lying. come on, jimmy collapses into a weeping puddle of sorrow anytime someone looks at him wrong and is merely a couple of pills away from flying off to the big heroin needle in the sky. you're not fooling me, jimmy! even though i didn't really want to, i've committed myself to not flipping him shit for a while; for, you just know he's on suicide watch now that his brother's engagement has been made official.

come to think of it, i feel like i've finally figured joey out; as suspected, he and jimmy are nearly as different as night and day. at first, i thought him to be a goody-goody like maynard, because he was shy in front of the camera lens. from the beginning, joey has been in the spotlight, his every move a methodical one; as if every day were another test to see if he could handle life with the doll. for example, during their third week of courtship, kathleen and joey were enjoying a normal night at the riot house - the doll was drunk, high, topless and talking to the side of a building - when flashers started giving baby babble grief for carrying on so cheaply. whereas jimmy would have smashed the photographer's flashbulbs in, stomped on their cameras and gotten arrested - joey handled it like a gentleman and, after smashing their flashbulbs in, snuck kathleen out the back entrance and took her home before police arrived. see? if that were a test, he passed with magical, flying unicorn colors. in another instance, kathleen wasn't feeling too hot and had been laid up in bed - a result of burning the candle at both ends, no doubt - joey brought her fresh flowers in bed. okay, to be fair, i'm sure jimmy might have gotten her flowers too; but he wouldn't have gone to a shop like a normal person or picked them himself - jimmy probably would have conjured up a bouquet out of a garbage bin in a dirty alley somewhere. yeah, the doll test - jimmy failed so badly and joey has already graduated with honors. seriously, after years and years of meticulously studying jimmy's every move and slowly creeping towards the doll, joey has done it!

in other doll news, sodapop cola of course had his own two cents to chip in about his sister's romantic revelation. he said, "joey's a great guy and all and i'm really, truly happy for the two of them, but i believe in my heart of hearts that she still loves jimmy. don't ask me why, but i just do." okay, soda, what are you trying to say? actually, i withdraw that question - soda, what do you know? no one even asked you anyways! why couldn't you have just cut out the bullshit and said, "i'm happy for the two of them," like a normal human being? don't be shocked when your invitation to the wedding of the century doesn't appear in your mailbox! kathleen should seriously add 'one-way ticket to another planet' to her wedding registry if she doesn't have the heart to tell her brother to lock up his loose lips from here on out - it's the only way.

in the end, the million dollar brat responded to sodapop's erroneous jests through the dailies and retorted, "well, i love my brother and all - but sometimes he doesn't know when to keep his goddamn mouth shut." well, maybe that will help him. jimmy scrambled for a little recognition and took it upon himself to respond - in doing so he made sodapop look like an absolute asshole - he said, "i don't know what sodapop is talking about. i couldn't be happier for my baby brother; and as far as kathleen is concerned, bygones are bygones." i know it's sick, but i was kind of hoping that jimmy would slip in, "oh and p.s. : one man's trash is another man's treasure" at the end there, but,  he kept it together for once. 

i will never forgive that wet mop!

jimmy kiss is at the top of baby babble's shitlist

somebody needs to keep jimmy kiss out of my sight, because if i ever see him i will slap that trilby right off his goddamn head and not even think twice about it! i'm sure that he's all melancholy and everything now that rumors are flying around about his younger brother and former girlfriend are getting hitched - but how dare he smash up kathleen's shit! that selfish asshole should have mailed it to me! i would have personally paid for all of his crackrocks next year.

after jimmy's hanukkah from hell, he returned to the 312 to find a box of the doll's junk - having been mailed from cielo - sitting on his porch. instead of doing the human thing and having it forwarded to her new address in the easy street hills, he took a baseball bat to the box. in doing so, he smashed kathleen's original, rare and signed-in-lipstick copies of her entire riot grrrl music collection. along with her LPs, he created a small bonfire and burned his collection of the doll's unpublished drafts and notes - which kathleen affirmed that he stole - from her books throughout the years, including the yet-to-be-released ☺.

can you believe that shit? it's like jimmy has surpassed his wet mop days and reverted back to a state of junior high school. the middle kiss brother is certainly winning his way into satan's 9th circle of hell - hitler, cassius, brutus and judas iscariot are probably super duper proud of lucifer's #1 son right now.

okay, and i don't mean to always be the one to slaughter the pink elephant in the room - but jimmy really needs to get the net! he and the beautiful one broke up ages ago, WTF? he must have been high off his ass on black tar when he thought that he even had so much as a snowball's chance in hell of getting kathleen back - watching the two together at hanukkah, behaving like the happy campers that they are, nearly sent him running for the razorblades.............and not in a doll-over-a-dusty-mirror kind of a way, either.

in closing, baby babble, you now have my permission to put an evil curse upon jimmy kiss' head; and, i promise i won't even make fun of you or try to burn you at the stake or anything. do something really bad - like, make it so he can never find a vein to shoot up with ever again. wait......that could be a good thing if you think about it. fuck it, instead of a curse, let's just put a price on his head and get some old-fashioned homicide going. i'm sure that the mean, old boogieman with a limp from the arcadian trailer park will do it for £699, no cash down.

the lost girl's first rock 'n' roll christmas

wingnut moves into kiss cradle; the lost boys nearly burn kiss cradle down

i will open this by saying that the doll has played hostess to plenty of parties in her day, but none have been as wild as the party that took place last night at her easy street hills home. kathleen has had parties where patrons were arrested, released and then arrested again - all in the same night! she even had one party where, at the end, everyone was brutally stabbed; but still, i insist that baby babble has never had a party so wild - and she's been slamming heroin and cocaine together for about as long as i can remember.

the million dollar brat started her first christmas at the kiss cradle off by waking up with joey at about eleven in the morning. they had some tea, smoked some foilies and probably got busy a couple of times before rousting the lost boys, sodapop, ludo and headlock. then, the merry mob trouped under the christmas tree and opened presents. joey's last present for the doll had been hiding with ludo ludovic in the guest cabin and was revealed to be a darling little puppy, which kathleen named 'wingnut.' in return, joey received a handjob. just kidding, she ended up buying him a motorcycle as well. you would think that the sunshine kid would have learned from her last run; in fact, word has it that she only refers to headlock as 'lefty' now - on account of the broken arm he suffered as a result of kathleen's boozy, pill-induced motorcycle ride that almost lead to the two floating around in heaven hand-in-hand with trotsky.

as gifts, kathleen got the lost boys new bandanna, boots and paid for proper leather jackets to be made up for the gang. i don't really give a fuck about the rest of the shit, but i'm really glad that somebody came forward and bought the boys some new bandanna. that needed to go down for so long. in return, the lost boys didn't get the doll or joey squat because they are all broke as jokes. kathleen gave sodapop an IOU for his very own guest cabin on her lisbon drive property. so, in a way, it's basically a gift for her. the kiss couple presented headlock with a left-handed baseball glove - as a cruel joke - signed especially by one of his favorite players. after watching his face light up and drop, the snickering lovebirds gave him his real gift - a case of his favorite brand of whiskey. you know he and jolly roger are going to sit together sometime soon and hold each other after taking one too many pulls off of a bottle; maybe play a little game called 'just for a second.' lastly, kathleen confessed that she didn't know what to get ludo ludovic for christmas because she doesn't know him very well - so, she bought him drugs. and i'm not even kidding.

after everyone had opened their shit, ruined some - doll, i'm talking to you - and slugged down a couple of cocktails, it was time for the fun to begin. the sunshine kid invited over a couple of close friends, as she has completely abandoned her real family, and told everyone that they could feel free to do the same. joey invited jimmy, who probably burst into a bout of 'gator tears and then hung up the phone. kathleen told the lost boys that they could invite over some of their buddies and they completely walked all over her. "she gave them some rope and they hung themselves with it," sodapop told flashers this afternoon. soda said that they invited all of their worst friends who trashed her house, fought and openly took drugs; at one point, a handful had takes some cheap heroin and became ill out in the front yard. in the backyard, the boys tore up the lawn with fires, motorcycles; as well as carried out other similar acts of chaos and disorder. they also set some of the houseplants inside aflame, which eventually led to the fire brigade being called. the doll must have taken one look at the mess this morning and said, "fuck this!" - because she and joey left headlock, ludo and sodapop to clean up the scene and jetted off to mama kiss' house upstate for what will surely go down in history as the greatest - or worst - hannukah ever.

the best part about last night had to be that the party wasn't just contained to the kiss cradle; before long, people were heading to the neighbors' to bullshit, do drugs and carry on like it was their own damn house! six neighbors called police reporting trespassers. one neighbor had a pretty hilarious tale to tell the fuzz and said that he "caught two disturbed santas snorting cocaine off of his porch step" and figured instantly that the doll was involved. only always! also, all of the lost boys had been running around in full santa gear and were pretty difficult to tell apart. so, at three in the morning, the lost boys ended up dumping all of kathleen's leftover christmas dinner garbage across the fence to neighbors who phoned police. as a result - you guessed it - police were phoned yet again. the million dollar brat languidly bitched at the fuzz for about a half an hour, took a disco nap and then shagged tail upstate. even though she got some beauty sleep, the doll still looks like she got in a fight with an eight-ball and the eight-ball won.

ludo ludovic is welcomed into the pretty people club with open arms

a couple of days ago, after the doll broke headlock's arm, her camp announced that they would be hiring ludo ludovic to temporarily fill his position. today, however, kathleen announced that he would be coming on board permanently and that he would be moving into 1999 lisbon drive - or as it is now fittingly known to this planet and the surrounding galaxies : 'the kiss cradle.' i don't know why she's being so hasty - maybe ludo knows where to score the good drugs in the easy street hills. maybe it's because christmas is coming up in the next couple of days. on the other hand, there's word that it's because his grandmother is a heavyweight in the publishing world and baby babble is manipulating the staff to help her write ☺. funny, because everyone knows that the doll's books are ghostwritten by satan's enslaved sluts; her books come straight from the deep, deep fiery pits of hell and are bound by their charred souls. duh.

now, because ludovic is so young and susceptible to the doll's witchy charms - much like trotsky once was before she eventually corrupted him - the fence is suggesting that she is trying to fill the hole in her heart where trotsky used to live with ludo. kathleen called bullshit on the gossip and said, "no one will ever be able to replace trotsky. with that being said, i found someone to replace trotsky - his name is ludo ludovic." wow, with the way that the beautiful one has been going on and on about trotsky, i wouldn't be surprised if she buried him in the backyard of her home in arcadia. in addition to ludo, she also asked her brother - sodapop cola - to move back in and look after the property. i'm guessing this has something to do with the fact that ludo is built like a girl and soda is built like a brick shithouse.

in other doll news, she was a picture of ladylike behavior today downtown on the arcadian high road. she was shopping at an affluent boutique for all the 'it' people, when one of the shop slaves came up and demanded that she leave! the million dollar brat asked why and the worked said, "because you smell like cigarette smoke." say what?????

i can't believe my eyeballs, but i'm sure i read that right. no one calls the doll smelly and lives to tell the story! anyways, i guess the kid told kathleen that she needed to vamoose, because she was still stinking up the joint; so, the beautiful one remained still as a statue. then, with ever so much grace and dignity, she rooted in her satchel, produced a ciggie and immediately started puffing away on it. security was called and you know the rest - but at least kathleen got the last laugh! i'm really quite surprised that she didn't return later with a can of gasoline and burn the place down! that boutique really got off easy, i'm telling you..............

baby babble's fanmail column has death rattle

for once, she didn't phone this one in

kathleen sure didn't seem to have a problem pulling out her notepad and pencil for hep parade this week; and it's a good thing too - because with the responses garnered from kathleen, it's a wonder she even has fans at all!

Q: Do you really use cocaine to help you stay up late and crank out deadlines?
A: no - i snort coffee grounds to help me stay up late and crank out deadlines

Q: Is it true that you're on cocaine right now?
A: GO FUCK URSELF - I ONLY DO DOPE, OKAY??????????????

Q: Just how many men have you scared off?
A: 2 MANY; I'M PRETTY SCARY - THE SCARIEST!!!

Q: Are you banging Joey Kiss or is it some sick sort of publicity stunt?
A: WTF - never met him........or his brother

Q: What did you ask Joey to get you for Christmas?
A: some clean needles, a real 90's letterman's jacket from a bona fide varsity jockstrap, cha cha heels, chinese gunpowder tea, a roll in the hay...............

Q: I happen to think you are one smart blonde for landing that cutie pie Joey - what's it like to be his girl?
A: IT'S LIKE CRIMSON + CLOVER OVER AND OVER

Q: Everybody knows that you always make the first move - so, Doll, what did you say to Joey to get him interested in you?
A: CUM WITH ME - I'LL MAKE U FAMOUS

Q: Jimmy Kiss still loves you, whether you give a shit or not.
A: UM OK I'LL BE SURE 2 ALERT THE FUZZ AND GET MY HOT LITTLE HANDS ON A RESTRAINING ORDER

Q: You and Jimmy are star-crossed - stop playing with Joey's heart. Good things come to those who wait and I'm sure Jimmy would wait until the end of time for you.
A: WTF is it with you people? i feel like i'm on another planet! is this a twilight zone episode i missed or what????

Q: I happen to have a babydoll dress from the 90's that I think would be perfect for you - it's purple and blue and in butterfly print. What's an address that I can send it to?
A: i don't like butterflies - just butterfly knives

Q: I know you love sugar - so, what's your favorite type of candy?
A: flying saucers, sour lollies, dusty popping sweets, cherry bootlace, neptune fizz, saturn zingers, ultra-violets, jelly snakes.............

Q: I just read a column that you did for the Pretty People Club Magazine - who knew that you were so intelligent?
A: I'M NOT JUST A CUTE GIRL - I HAVE BRAINS 2

Q: Are you going to have an preface for ☺?
A: yes, and it will go a little something like this : i, the doll of the city of arcadia, in order to form a more perfect piece of fiction, establish long trains of thought about outer space, insure domestic cats, provide for the common criminals, bestow a sense of trust on all habitual cocaine users, promote the generally lost and secure the shit that needs secured; to ourselves and our notoriety, do ordain and establish this constitution of the doll.

Q: How do you think people view you?
A: i know that you all think i'm bad, but really - i'm not

Q: You are a literary prostitute; you are a Satanic bitch with your sadistic way of writing - don't be surprised when all your pretty friends leave you in the dust and your life goes in the toilet.
A: UM I PAY 2 MUCH MONEY 2 BE IGNORED BY MY PRETTY FRIENDS - IT'S THE UGLY ONES I'M WORRIED ABOUT

Q : How does it feel to be back home in Arcadia?
A: ROFL - like taking a bump of ski-blacky off of a key for the first time

Q: Why did you choose the Easy Street Hills to live and not Skid Row? Do you want to live closer to Beau Goodman?
A: O YA RIGHT - IN BEAU'S DREAMS

Q: What's going to be different about the Riot House in Arcadia as opposed to the Riot House in Cielo?
A: one thing : BLOW AVAILABLE BY ROOM SERVICE

Q: You're not the prettiest girl on this planet by far - stop acting as if you were.
A: earth doesn't deserve me - OUTER SPACE NEEDS ME

Q: There's a small print of the same foreign phrase on the back of every issue of the Pretty People Club Magazine - what does it translate to?
A: "THIS MACHINE KILLS FASCISTS"

Q: How do you feel about the fence, now that the media storm following Trotsky's death has lapsed?
A: the less that they know about me - the better

Q: How does it feel to be used daily by everyone you know?
A: WRONG - IT'S THE DOLL WHO DOES THE USING AROUND HERE

Q: If your town car is called 'the Gravedigger,' and your personal jet, 'the Crippler' - what do you call your motorcycle?
A: the iron horse

Q: So, your summer home at 10050 Lonesome Lane in Cielo is nicknamed 'the Love Shack,' and your former home at 312 Skid Row was nicknamed 'the Dollhouse' - have you figured out anything to designate your new home at 1999 Lisbon Drive?
A: YUP - IT'S NAME IS the 1999 KISS CRADLE - you know, like rattles and bibs and night lights when we go to bed

Q: Besides the Wolfman Jack Show, what kind of music do you listen to?
A: the best of the 60's, the best of the 70's and the best of joey singing in the shower

Q: How much do you pay Joey to be seen with you? Everyone knows that you're not really in love.
A: he pays me £21.15 a week - half in cash, the other half in coupons for things like bear hugs and piggyback rides

Q: You and Jimmy obviously had pet names for each other; do you and Joey follow this trend as well?
A: he calls me sticky; i call him biscuits

Q: So, if you call each other 'Sticky' and 'Biscuits' - what do your friends call the two of you?
A: DUH- THE KING + QUEEN OF THE PROM

damn, her column should come with a little glass box that says 'break in case of emergency' and contains a disposable foilie, box of matches and hollowed-out inkpen within. i can barely make it through a whole article without bearhugging my baking soda and aluminum foil and i mean it!

the doll makes a futile attempt to kill headlock

joey buys her motorbike as early christmas gift; she nearly maims headlock with it

a couple of weeks ago, while the doll and her young kiss were on holiday in grimaldi, joey came across a vintage motorcycle being peddled by a real live greaser and knew that he just had to buy it for baby babble. when joey called and had it rerouted to their new easy street hills home in arcadia, it ended up arriving earlier than expected; so, joey decided to let kathleen open it early. i think we all know where this is going...............

within moments of turning the key to 'on,' she had totaled the bike - with headlock riding bitch. a frantic joey rushed the two to hospital. kathleen is fine - she'll probably outlive us all - but headlock broke his left arm, wrist and cracked a rip as well. while she was talking to doctors, she confessed that she hadn't eaten all day long, took some quaaludes and guzzled a couple of drinks before the crash, sure, but she wasn't tipsy. um, only a couple drinks? come on, doll, don't kid yourself! try a couple bottles. and quaaludes? where did you manage those from? a time capsule from 1974? she also told headlock that he should have known that he was driving her to drink.....and drive.......

her brother told the papers that, not to worry, baby babble's camp had already sent for ludo ludovic - trotsky's old rent-boy - to replace grandpa headlock until he feels better. they also contracted out the help of a specialist to repair kathleen's broken motorbike. okay, can someone please give me a good reason as to why in the fuck are they fixing the 'cycle back up? that thing is a deathtrap and if the million dollar brat isn't careful, she'll be the next asshole walking into hospital with a broken arm - or worse.

speaking of which, i'll bet headlock wishes that day would come sooner rather than later - because katty cakes was a straight up bitch to him while he was hurting. the doll said that she was seconds away from demanding a prescription-strength bullet in the head and ending it all, since headlock wouldn't shut the fuck up! she said that he was in so much pain and crying like such a skirt that is was "tear-jerking to see him in such a state." and by that, kathleen of course means that she thought long and hard about suffocating him with one of the hospital's flatter-than-cardboard pillows. i say, in her defense, she's a writer - not a nurse. caring about people isn't part of her gig.

hopefully, for her sake, while the doll was in hospital she asked for a quick vitamin transfusion - because she is beginning to look a little on the ratty side yet again. on the other hand, it could be for the reason that the million dollar morphine brat conned the doctors out of a couple of narcotic pain injections for her on the low-low. sodapop joked to the press that is made his sister so loopy, she started dancing in the hallway of the emergency room until she fell down and passed out for a little disco nap. to that i say - damn! kathleen needs to get me the street name of that shit.

crimson and clover

"love has no uttermost, as the stars have no number and the sea no rest."

-eleanor farjeon

there is a small newsstand outside of my building and every morning, i walk past it as i go to work. every morning there is a new headline about kathleen. she is the papers' - or the 'fence' as she refers to them - poster child and she cannot make a single move without them shining a spotlight on her. so, naturally - i have heard of her; and as i am a regular on the show-business circuit - i have also even met her.

i became acquainted with her at the time during which she was still seeing jimmy kiss, at kathleen's 312 skid row residence. now, from all the things that i knew about the couple - i did not know that jimmy had a baby brother. as a result, it came as a surprise to me when the papers one morning read : THE DOLL GIVES YOUNG KISS A LAPDANCE. i believed it to be a misprint and kept walking; although, as days went on, it soon dawned on me that joey kiss was surely no misprint.

kathleen and joey asked me to meet them at 1999 lisbon drive - their new arcadian love nest, hidden within the easy street hills. when you first walk into the lisbon drive home, there is a table to your right with an egg-shaped old fashioned mirror hanging directly above it. on that table is a vase, holding fresh cherubic-pink roses; behind both lies a crackling, faded-blue wallpaper, which polishes the charming foyer off with a delicate touch.

"every friday," kathleen explains, alluding to the roses, "joey goes out and picks me flowers from all over whatever city we're in. it makes him happy, so i let him do it."

"i thought it made you happy!" joey exclaims, in a hurt voice.

kathleen smiles and responds, "whatever you say, baby." with that, the couple's minor row comes to an end. "i know him too well," she says later, "he can't stay mad at me for long." she begins to describe to me - at length - how the two met, about nine years ago, on the street. "he went to my high school, but i didn't notice him there - i picked him out of all of the faces on the street." joey saw her walk past him only one time and remained in the same spot, hoping she would return. it was not more than a week later when kathleen did. joey saw her walking towards him and hoped that she would say something first.

"she began to go past," joey says, "and so i said, 'hello pretty lady - could i play a song for you?'"

"he wasn't much older than fifteen or sixteen at the time," kathleen adds in ,"i told him, 'okay,' and he started singing woody guthrie's "bad repetation." that was it for me - i knew that i just had to have him." ultimately, it would be years before their paths crossed again. the couple's romance has been doomed from the start; words and phrases like - among many things - 'career-ending,' 'taboo,' and 'filthy' are among the most frequently used in the press. "despite what the fence would have you believe - i have known joey than.....well, how long's a piece of string?"

joey, who is now in the kitchen - preparing a tray of drinks - answers, "too fucking long, that's how long!"

joey returns to the sitting room with a tray of what he calls 'new york lemonades' - "we just got into the house on monday," he says, "so we don't have a lot to work with." a new york lemonade, i come to find out, is a water with a twist of lemon and a sprinkle of sugar.

the deed itself sounds so natural, but the two are actually quite the strangers when it comes to arbitrary chores. kathleen says nothing indicative of this, but it was only recently that the two began preparing their own drinks, sending their own laundry out and pumping their own gas - among other things - for, abbie 'trotsky' bastien, kathleen's beloved young caretaker, passed away a little more than a month ago. she has yet to hire another and now insists on doing most things herself. "the house in cielo has gone to the dogs," joey states at one point, hinting at the untimely loss of trotsky, "the doll's not much of a maid, herself and i am shit at washing dishes - so, together, we do quite the job."

kathleen pipes up, "don't throw stones at me - dishes used to be jimmy's gig."

at the mention of jimmy's name, joey tries to keep his cool defending not only himself and his family, but his girlfriend as well; and addresses the rumors that there is a row is brewing within the kiss family. "when she and jimmy were still together - and i was lucky enough to be begrudgingly invited over - i knew that all i could look forward to was another inept gathering far off in the future and that was it. now, he pitches a fit if we tell our mother and our seventy-six year old grandmother that we will be celebrating hanukkah with her, as i do every year. the only thing is - we're observing the holiday on the last week of the month and not the first, as kathleen and i could not get work off. don't ask me why jimmy picks and chooses which year he wants to participate in the holidays with us; i am in arcadia when my mother asks me to be, come hell or high water."

kathleen admits that although jimmy's comments do not bother her - "it's just jimmy being jimmy," she quips - the simple fact that she has been invited has her nervous from tip to toe. "it's a bigger honor than any award i've won or book i've had published or party i've been able to attend - his family specifically asked for me to be there."

"my grandmother, god bless her heart, is nearing the end of her tour on this world," joey continues, picking up where kathleen left off, "and she wanted to meet kathleen before she passes on."

"i'm so scared that i've been seriously reconsidering every piece of clothing in my wardrobe. like this," she points to her current ensemble - a simple black minidress, cinched at the waist with a plum-colored bow and a pair of purple thigh-high socks - and says, "kinda like a warped cheerleader from the '90's, right?"

"it's like a look from the high school that we all wished we had gone to." joey cracks.

"i can't wear this to in front of his seventy-six year-old grandmother! i'm already a soulless shiksa who broke one brother's heart and has moved onto another brother," kathleen jokes, suggesting her low opinion of the press.

"and, here's the real kicker," joey leans in and whispers, "i'm even younger than jimmy. she must be really sick." he laughs and shakes his head, withdrawing his prior proclamation, "i'm only pulling your leg - she is nothing that they say she is."

this time - this interview - there is no home tour. there is no straying off topic and there certainly is no out and out bad behavior. "our opinion on the fence have changed drastically," says kathleen, a former advocate for independent photographers; at one point this year, she was even phoning in journalists to leak private details that professional reporters would trip over themselves for - but that all changed suddenly after trotsky's death.

"they smeared him," joey comments, "he was nothing but a young, good kid who did his job and did it well." referring mostly to the article, "the million dollar brat," kathleen threatened to quit her newly-found magazine, the pretty people club, if the issue including the piece was not pulled from stands at once. "we watch what we say around the fence now - and even more so what we do."

with that, kathleen gives me a kiss on each side of the cheek and sends me home with a garbage sack full of clothing that she claims, "i would rather slit my wrists than wear anymore," to set out on the curb. as i am coming down lisbon drive, i notice sodapop riding up the hill on his very tough and very loud motorbike - in cielo, neighbors outside scoffed as he rode past and dialed police; in arcadia, neighbors outside smile pleasantly or give a quick wave hello. if it has not been said before, then i will say it now - the doll is at home in arcadia; at home with her first love and at home with herself.

the million dollar brat draws up blueprints for arcadian riot house

shit, there's nothing quite like the comforts of home, are there? since she's totally beyond skid row mentally, the doll is bringing everything that reminds her of cielo. the only thing that she's going to be missing is beau badman, but i'm sure he'll find some reason to slither back to arcadia that doesn't involve kathleen whatsoever.

her first call was to mate rudy rubideaux, who helped her open the first riot house in cielo. rudy also lent a hand in introducing jimmy kiss to gibby bastien - sister of deceased caretaker trotsky - and the two have since been going steady. word has it that the doll told rudy, "just remember one thing for me - although it will be adorned with riot house regalia, it will not be the same scene as cielo. it will be bigger, better and meaner. it will be the kind of place that you don't want your kid to go." oh, don't worry your pretty little head, baby babble; i'm sure that the riot house is already a place parents don't want their kids to go.

hep parade agreed to front her money because they've probably come to the realization by now that she won't move to arcadia unless all of her stupid stipulations are met. the doll's boss said, "if opening a second riot house will make her feel more at home, then by all means, let's open a second riot house." you know what else makes the doll feel at home? smoking foilies - but you don't see sammy (burns, head of hep parade) tripping over themselves to meet such an inquiry, now do you?

in other doll news, she angered a bunch of her fans off today when she abandoned an appearance and was later found swilling hooch by the flashers. damn! kathleen responded by saying, "and this is news?"

headlock then shoved her aside and offered the fence some priceless advice, "i've learned to not get on the bad side of those who speedball." i'm sure that this will be the epitaph on his gravestone someday.

the beautiful one's camp took their sweet time commenting, with, "minutes before the event was to begin, kathleen was compelled to regretfully cancel a scheduled reading in downtown cielo after feeling ill. soon after, she was photographed at a bar nearby her home, sparking fictional stories that she traded in work for play today - which is just sadistic." no, the sadistic shit here comes from kathleen's representative who is trying to trick us into believing that the doll was at home being sick when we all know that she was on her knees, snorting lines off of the toilet seats in said afore mentioned bar! i mean, and i'm not rocket scientist or anything, but it wasn't that hard to put two and two together. furthermore, those weren't 'stomach paints' you were feeling, doll - it was your body crying out in horror from the malnourishment.

more junior high shit

dollface makes kiss cry, he leaves her; she says "sorry"

there is something going seriously wrong with the world if the doll is apologizing to a kiss, but i got that correct. now, remember how a couple of days ago, the two got in a knock-down-and-drag-out fight because the doll wanted to take speedballs until her eyes stopped, dropped and rolled in the back of her head? sure you do. well, that same night, the young kiss packed up his makeup and curlers and said, "see ya!" to kathleen. he was planning on forgetting all about her, until kathleen did the unthinkable and asked forgiveness of him. word has it that the row started because joey doesn't approve of kathleen taking drugs and caught her red-handed trying to score some off her dealer. busted! in her defense, joey should have known what noose he was slipping over his head - no one tells kathleen what to do and lives to tell the tale!

well, no one except joey apparently. the doll tracked him down at - surprise, surprise - the flophouse with big brother jimmy and presented him with a heartfelt "sorry." joey took one look at jimmy and then a quick glance around his flophouse room and said to kathleen, "apology accepted - let's hid the road, babe!" the two have been together ever since and probably will be for a couple more days until the next disagreement.

i mean - and i'm not saying that world war kat will surely be waged again - let's just hope that is there is a next time, joey will handle it a little better. he could stand to learn a thing or two from his brother - jimmy took his doll-approved beatings like a champ.

and, if joey kiss thinks that he'll be the one to change the beautiful one, he can save it! some say he's even dropped the dreaded 'r' word to katty cakes! don't even make me laugh - she'll go to rehab when pigs sprout wings and make a sty out of the clouds.

Q: are you writing this from inside trotsky's coffin?

A: DUH

um, is it just me or is kathleen a handful of pills away from ending it all? if you don't agree now, perhaps you will after reading her latest installment for hep parade.

Q: Mulholland or the Isle of Grimaldi?
A: grimaldi - going to mulholland makes me want to slit my wrists

Q: You know, for Trotsky's sake, you shouldn't joke about wanting to kill yourself.
A: you think i'm kidding

Q: When you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
A: i wanted to be able to write a mean book; and now, my books are so mean, that they never call their mother

Q: So, just how did you get your reputation?
A: by being the bitch that nobody wants to be

Q: No, really - how did someone like you get to be so famous?
A: someone like me???? um, i used to be the prettiest doll in arcadia and now i'm the prettiest doll in cielo

Q: I thought HEP! was a great dedication to the friendship that you and Trotsky shared - congratulations.
A: you obviously didn't 'get' HEP! then

Q: You are such a stupid slut. Do humankind a favor and disappear - you can take your little party dresses and your dollies with you.
A: many a true word spoken in jest

Q: If only you knew the people that I have keeping tabs on you - you would probably think twice about the things you do.
A: HEADLOCK??????????????? WTF i've done nothing incriminating.........yet

Q: I read a gossip report recently that said you fell asleep during a phone interview and cited the reason as you were "high as a kite off of heroin" - any truth in this?
A: I THINK DOPE IS DOPE - what's it to you?

Q: Are you a morning person?
A: NO WAY - especially not today. someone had been calling me all morning since 666 o'clock. some of us still live fast and die young, you know? and it just had to be someone from the fence! none of my friends wake up that early - they stay up that late

Q: I'm sure that you're tired of being badgered about Trotsky and all the elements surrounding his death, but I've always had a question about him and figured it was now or never - why did Trotsky select the 69th room at the Riot House as his suite?
A: R U FUCKING WITH ME? trotsky was as camp as a row of pink tents

Q: What did you think when Hep Parade Magazine told you to write another fanmail piece?
A: I THOUGHT 'O GREAT, I CAN'T WAIT TO TALK ABOUT DETH IN NOVEMBER

Q: I miss the normal Kathleen - when is she coming back to Planet Earth?
A: ROFL - WHEN WAS I 'NORMAL?'

Q: You probably won't spill, but were you the one who gave Trotsky the 'barbies?'
A: well, that depends - is it a crime that the pigs just write a little ticket for; or is it a crime where they puts my hands behind my back and wrap those darling silver bracelets around my wrists?

Q: Why the Jimmy tattoo?
A: U SAY 'WHY?' - I SAY 'WHY NOT?'

Q: Could you give me an estimate of the percentage of people around you that snort coke?
A: 100% this is cielo DUH

Q: Gibby Bastien is naturally gorgeous, whereas you have to pancake your makeup on and yet you still look like you rolled out of the grave. I'm glad Jimmy Kiss has moved onto a more mature woman and left the little girl in the playground.
A: WTF? playground.....grave.....natural.......U CAN SAY WHATEVER, BUT GIB HAS YET 2 ENTER THE 10050

Q: What is the last thing Trotsky said to you?
A: "doll, i can't breathe in here."

Q: Well, then what's the last thing that you said to Trotsky?
A: "but, baby, you are safe - in here."

it's almost like kathleen has spent one too many hours hovering over her favorite framed picture of trotsky, blowing lines. she probably thinks she can talk to his ghost now too. quick! someone check the doll's pulse - i want to be 100% sure that she's still with us.

jimmy kiss and not-kathleen

as if being dumped by joey and trotsky's untimely death wasn't enough for kathleen to process, jimmy kiss has gone and found someone new to hold hands with! and no, it's not the white lady. her name is gibby bastien and she is the sister of, well, duh - abbie bastien = trotsky = gib's brother. and no, they didn't meet at the funeral; that would be funny though....

jimmy met gibby though rudy rubideaux, the prosperous nightclub and hotel entrepreneur; rudy just recently opened the club de luxe and also assisted kathleen in the opening of the riot house - but gibby "isn't in the business," jimmy said. get this - she's a librarian. he also said that she doesn't even do drugs! WTF? surely this shit will never last. i give it one hot minute before jimmy starts trying to smoke, snort or slam everything in sight.

now, i'm sure somewhere in the back of the doll's little pea brain, she's always figured that jimmy would come crawling back sooner or later to wash her feet with his tears, but this gibby character completely blows that theory to shit. the beautiful one was informed of this sordid romance by - no surprises here - the flashers. they told her that gibby was going around to the fence and badmouthing baby babble, saying evil things like, "she really did a number on my baby," and, "jimmy wouldn't touch kathleen with a ten-foot pole now; he was really hurt."

okay, doll, it's time to break out your magic witch potions and lotions - there's a dumb slut running around cielo that is just asking to have a hex put on her. now, let's break it down : first of all, gibby, jimmy kiss has been kathleen's baby since the thirteenth of forever - don't get it twisted. and, oh yeah, i'm sure that jimmy really hurt when katty warbucks dried up and stopped shelling out the dough for his every want and need!

the funny thing is, after the reporters told her about jimmy and his new girl, kiss tried to pull a fast one when he went over to the 10050 to pick up some of his leftover junk - he had the audacity to bring gibby with him! wild honeypie wasn't fooled and insisted that headlock do something about it - or else she, her shovel and her .45 would. so, when headlock strolled down to the main gates to let them in, he told jimmy, "oh, i'm sorry, we must have forgotten to tell you - you can come in, jimmy, but your trash will have to stay on the curb with the rest of the garbage." LOL! even old headlock still knows how to make kiss blush. jimmy left in a huff shortly thereafter, settling the score to jimmy : 0, kat :1..

and, is it just me or are jimmy and the doll still in love with each other? i mean, jimmy's new meal ticket / girlfriend bears an uncanny resemblance to a certain beautiful blonde doper that we all know and worship. i'm just saying - i think baby babble has an evil twin running around cielo and she's simultaneously banging jimmy kiss. then again, the million dollar brat was getting busy with his younger brother, joey, who looks exactly like him. and i mean exactly - from the glazed-over, heroin-induced look in his eye to the trilby atop his head.

in other doll news, the pretty people club president announced during a radio interview that she's afraid to sleep at the riot house now. evidently, the last time she did, she had a nightmare about trotsky. now she believes his ghost to haunt the property and thinks that he keeps her up all night. i know, i think kathleen is full of it too - it's just an excuse for all that speed tea she drinks. it was during her cokey babble, though, that she revealed she would be locking up trotsky's suite in the hotel - which, believably and unbelievably is room number 69 - and throw away the key. i'm sure trotsky would have done the same thing if he could be in her situation, but you know jimmy wouldn't! the second that the doll flatlined, kiss would be out on the bethel strip, trying to hock bootlegs of her latest book or offer to let people take photographs with her corpse.

if you ask me, i think it's about time that we close the book on jimmy kiss. he and his low-rent, tap water high school version of kathleen can pack up their crackpipes, trilbies and knockoff kinderslut dresses and hit the road!

HEP! premieres; hailed as - you guessed it - award winning material

HEP! : because the eight-balls don't buy themselves, baby

the million dollar brat has only been mourning trotsky's untimely death for less than a week and her cold-blooded company has already demanded that she return to work!

sadly, HEP! was supposed to start gracing the silver screens only a day after the news of trotsky's death broke. without delay, wild honeypie cancelled the event and didn't even issue an apology; then, she went and had the first edition of the pretty people club - featuring the piece "the million dollar brat" - pulled off of the shelves, because it is damaging to the memory of trotsky or some bullshit. in short, the article included him downing drugs at the doll buffet. yet, her camp at hep parade  finally said, "we're not asking - we're telling," and then they told kathleen to get her ass back to work!

so, the premiere of HEP! took place tonight at cosmic charlie's cosmic disco because the riot house has been under strong police surveillance - and critics have already floated the moving picture as a nominee for several moving picture awards. the film has also garnished four and a half stars out o the possible five - but who's counting?

there was a small party held before the event and all the pretty people were in attendance. katty cakes managed to get the reclusive and notorious motorcycle gang, the hell boys, to come out and play for the opening night. they probably heard their mating call of black tar heroin crackling on tinfoil and the clinks of whiskey bottles and came a-runnin'.

no, sodapop cracked the dead bolt on his loose lips and opened up to the fence; soda said that his sister's people did it because, um, well, kathleen's been a goddamn stage sixteen mess ever since trotsky croaked. those close to her say that the doll's worse than ever - she has been secluded in her 10050 love shack home since the news hit and takes mostly to her bed. mates say that she has her drug dealers coming in and out of the house at all hours; consequentially, headlock phoned up the hell boys and asked them to come watch over the property.

"it's been really nutty," sodapop told photographers, "the fence's presence is pretty heavy. we've only had the TV on once - we looked out the window and saw ourselves look out the window through the television." furthermore - and on more than one occasion, too - the doll has been so far gone, that she spaced locking her house and gates; friends fear that something unfortunate could be in the works if she doesn't watch it.

the lost boys were there too, stinking up the place with a stench similar to a high school football team's dirty gym socks. yet even with all of those familiar faces beaming back at her from the audience, kathleen fled long before the movie was finished. those in attendance say that she couldn't bring herself to sit through the entire movie, as it pretty much features trotsky in every scene. joey was seen later escorting the doll home. well, at least she got to toast the memory of her dearly departed friend before she left - she held a champagne tribute before the movie commenced and said, "this is for you, trotsky - i wish you could be here with us tonight, but that's cool. save me a spot in rock 'n' roll heaven and i'll be there before you know it." okay that was a little dark - even for her. after giving her self-eulogy, kathleen downed her drink and one and then jetted out the door.

in other doll news, the riot house was re-opened last night and every single room was taken out of vacancy within a matter of hours. and i mean every room - there was even a point in the night where people were even asking if they could rent out portions of the rose gardens to set up tents like some kind of goddamn gypsy camp! those requests were denied, naturally, as the gardens are still off limits to guests, due to the recent loss of trotsky.

speaking of, trotsky's cause of death has been ruled accidental - and, yes, he was taking drugs at the time of his worldly departure. lots and lots of drugs. trotsky's system almost puts the doll to shame. his chemical analysis revealed lethal levels of cocaine and morphine - known as kathleen's breakfast or a 'speedball' on the streets - as well as codeine, barbiturates and other various prescription drugs. the police are investigating the matter as the barbiturates - commonly referred as 'barbies' - were prescribed to kathleen. the fuzz have ruled, though, that his death was unintentional and will not be continuing their investigation.

now, i've been cutting baby babble some slack because she's in mourning, but i have to say something : kathleen sure seems like she wants to join trotsky in dancing on all the tables in heaven; i mean, she showed up to the HEP! premiere looking like you could find her sleeping with the alley cats and pawing at fish skeletons. basically, she looked like last year - bug eyes, runny nose; with scratches and bruises scattered throughout her arms. cigarette at hand, drink in tow and disgusting ballet slippers on her feet - here we go again! and so soon, doll?

tragedy strikes at the riot house!

x

death in the gardens!

the riot house has been shut down until further notice by order of the cielo fuzz, because trotsky plunged to his death early this morning. the autopsy has not yet been made public, but witnesses say that following a long night of snorting and shooting drugs, he scrambled atop the roof to light some leftover fireworks from the freak fest; at some point, he lost his footing and plummeted down to the ground below. his body was discovered by kathleen in the riot house rose gardens before daybreak. trotsky was 21 years old.

the million dollar brat is currently holed up at her 10050 love shack and is absolutely refusing to speak with anyone who is not tied in with the doll camp. the only person to come or leave is headlock, who went to the airport this morning to pick up sodapop cola, kathleen's brother - who was in arcadia, working on a super duper secret job, given to him by his sister. once home in cielo, soda didn't waste time on spilling to the fence and said that trotsky's run-in with police the other night was no drunken twist of fate. after losing his mind from taking too many drugs and fleeing kathleen's lonesome lane home, a concerned headlock phoned the fuzz and informed them that trotsky was suicidal. by the time he was apprehended by deputies, however, he did not appear to want to take his own life - "he was acting like a brat; he just needed to dry out," one officer said. police had no choice but to let him go. soda said that the incident occurred after the doll begged with trotsky to enter rehab, but he snubbed any and all pleas.

he was recently charged with disturbing the peace after a long night with 'bad influence' kathleen. he’s been living, for quite some time, in the guest cottage on the edge of the property and therefore he became the doll's #1 friend and running mate. she even named him as the successor to headlock's position and she also named him in her last will and testament as a beneficiary.

well, trotsky, you were always one of my favorites; you could dance all night on club drugs and still find time to trim the hedges, take phone messages and snort lines with baby babble - here's hoping that you're still disturbing the peace.......up in heaven.

a funeral is expected to be held sometime next week, but neither kathleen nor her people will give any word on the matter. the flashers have even respectfully given up roosting outside 10050 lonesome lane, so we must really have a tragedy on our hands. you know a paparazzo would never put their camera down - even if it was on fire.

R.I.P. trotsky - there will never be another gold-hotpants-wearing caretaker like you.

the million dollar brat

they call kathleen 'the million dollar brat'- a nickname seldom mentioned in the newspapers; instead, it is a handle only to be found rolling off of the tongues of the jet-setters. tonight, we find kathleen at her very own riot house - in the gardens - in the six-hundred and sixty-sixth bungalow.

ever the lady of the place, kathleen opens the door and greets me with a wide smile. she is dressed in a very short, peter pan collared dress and her ratted blonde hair is pinned with blue and purple plastic hair-clips in the shape of a bow; she has on little girl lace socks and a pair of maryjanes - kathleen is a slave to her aptly named 'kinderslut' fashion. she has round, glittering blue eyes, which are carefully made up. her lips have a thin shine of gloss, but the focus is on her eyes - kathleen is all about the stare that can cut right through you.

behind her, appears joey kiss - the younger brother of kathleen's ex-boyfriend, jimmy. as the newspapers before me have accurately reported, joey's appearance bears almost an eerie resemblance to jimmy's. the two brothers each have shaggy dark brown, almost black, hair that is covered up by a dated trilbies; joey and jimmy both loom well over six feet and have body types similar to that of a broomstick. dressed in a classic greaser's uniform - leather jacket, black jeans, white tee shirt and motorcycle boots - the brothers kiss can easily pass for extras in any 1950's movie about teenage rebellion.

kathleen ushers me inside the abode. instead of the dramatic junkie war zone that the tabloids depict it to be, what filled with broken bottles, drug paraphernalia, bloodied belongings, eviction notices and other things equally as condemnable - it couldn't be any more different.

fall has hit cielo late this year and as a result, the city's people are not prepared for the winter that is approaching at full tilt. kathleen, though, is ahead of the curve - against the wall, in the middle of the living room sits an old fashioned wood stove that is filling the entire bungalow with not only palpable warmth, but an unmistakable homey scent. joey piles a few more logs on and the fire hisses, crackling and spitting out tiny sparks. kathleen shivers and asks, "anyone for tea? it's colder than a goddamn witch's tit right now." trotsky, pawing through a tattered copy of

the pilgrim's process

with a furrowed brow, gets up and hurries off to the kitchen. kathleen, from the living room, jokingly bellows, "that's right, trotsky - you aren't being paid to stand around and look beautiful!" she then looks back on her guests - myself, sodapop and joey - and says, "besides, that's my job - if it were your job, trotsky, i'd be on the dole."

after what feels like the blink of an eye, trotsky emerges from the kitchen with a tray of tea. i select mine and take a sip - it's bitter. scowling, i playfully remark, "hey, did you spike this tea with anything?"

kathleen shoots trotsky a dirty look and everyone quickly tests their tea. "aw, shit," trotsky says, "you got mine by mistake." ultimately, the guilty gang confesses that they have been recently lacing their tea with speed - to keep the moral up.

"well, it all started during the first drafts ☺ - i said, like ladies, we're going to put a little in our tea," she explains. confidants, however, affirm that kathleen is a completely different person on speed - one source declared, "she may say that it's for ☺; but every time she does it, she takes all her clothes off and talks to walls and walks in circles; but she doesn't write her book."

to be frank - after the third pot of tea, kathleen does begin to lose focus. she takes to a series of blue luggage trunks and rummages through them until she finds what she's looking for. then, she slips into a state of undress and proceeds to parade around numerous kinderslut fashions, recently purchased on a surreptitious trip to grimaldi - a popular party isle for the international and affluent libertines. coos emerge from those paying attention, to which kathleen retorts in a hillbilly drawl, "well, you better take a photograph - the folks back home will never believe this!"

as kathleen is slipping into yet another, the telephone rings. trotsky answers and charges off to find headlock, only to come back and hand the phone to kathleen. she answers with, "what do you want to know?" within seconds, the conversation turns from the possibility of a friend to the dark reality : it is none other than jimmy kiss on the other end of the phone.

sodapop notices me meticulously eyeing his sister and leans towards me; in a low voice, he says, "she and joey are very close and they are also very much in love - i just wanted you to know that."

the second she hangs up with joey's older brother, the telephone rings again. it is another magazine, inquiring to do a short interview as soon as possible. without hesitation, kathleen covers the receiver and innocently asks if i mind. without waiting for a response, smiles and says, "you understand."

the interviewer poses three questions and kathleen answers with, what seems like, all of her contempt for the media. without batting an eyelash, kathleen snorts at the first question and replies, "oh, well i'm making it a personal undertaking not to screw with anyone's head." at the second question - which seems suggestive of drug usage - she laughs, "you must think that first thing in the morning, when i wake up, i take a big swig of jack daniels; and then i smoke a boatload of foilies and i that don't go to work for two or three weeks at a time." for the last question, kathleen keeps it short and sweet, with, "black tar heroin? no, i call it 'mother's milk.'" she hangs up straight away and eyes me, then says, "and that's why i can't go for that."

kathleen continues to chat openly on the phone for an hour or so - she rings up friends and invites them to stop by, checks in with headlock at 10050 lonesome lane to make sure he's not falling asleep on the job and room service to send more tea bags. interestingly enough, she turns the speakerphone on and - after a languid attempt at a conversation with the person on the other end - leaves the room. the person remains engaged for a good while, until they realize that kathleen is, in fact, gone. before hanging up, the poor sap complains, "i hate it when she does this."

the night goes on right under our noses and as i sit in kathleen's home-away-from-home, with a temperature comparable to that of summer, i find the speed tea to be wearing off and sleep soon ensues....

....i am rousted by the sound of sodapop's motorbike near sunrise. kathleen and joey are the only ones still awake - trotsky is curled up with mates in a pile of arms and legs on the floor, while a movie persists on without the dreaming bunch - and soda has just left to give a drunken girl, who was wandering aimlessly through the rose bushes, a ride home. i look at the clock on the mantle : it's nearing 6 o'clock ante meridiem.

"good morning," kathleen utters quietly, so as not to wake those still in repose, "you want some coffee?" she then grins, "or do you want some more tea?" and nods towards the teapot between she, joey and a stack of papers with a plethora of ink colors scrawled through and besides the words. i shake my head no and joey lets out a chuckle - he is on his sixth cup of tea this morning.

"have either of you slept? like, at all?" i ask curtly, using all my willpower to keep from falling face first onto the ground, due to a bout of lethargy. kathleen shakes her head no and her tangled blonde curls bounce back and forth, side to side. "i have nightmares."

"don't listen to her," joey says, brewing up a pot of coffee; cigarette screwed between his lips, "she takes disco naps." a disco nap, as it is ultimately divulged properly, is a short nap - usually lasting no more than twenty minutes - that one takes either before or after participating in illicit, unlawful and dishonest activities. additionally, some disco naps are involuntary, though, according to kathleen, "it just really depends on how many cups of tea you've had."

with that, i embark on gathering my things; managing to locate everything but my jacket, i at last discover it under trotsky's sleeping body. with only the gentlest touch, i attempt to move him - my efforts stand futile. the struggle carries on for a moment, before kathleen enters the room. with one swift movement, she places a ballet slipper against trotsky's ribs and rolls him over. his eyes open wide and he resumes his prior position.

she shrugs and wraps one of her rather sinewy arms around my shoulders, cleverly steering me towards the door. "i don't like long goodbyes," kathleen says stoically, "you better write something good or we'll come find you. remember, for every bad story - joey and i abduct one report - why, it just might be you if you're not too careful."

winter in cielo is one thing, as is morning in cielo; however, the two combined possess a power all its own. stepping quickly in the brisk air, i discern two things : a terrible headache and the sun rising from above lookout mountain. then again, i must respectfully rescind the afore mentioned cielan opinions - there's nothing like a sun rising over a mountain peak when your head feels like a claw hammer is being repeatedly struck against your temple; also, you just realized that you have left your cab fare in a jacket underneath a deep-sleeping young caretaker. to make matters worse, you have no sunglasses; you are out of cigarettes and there is a lengthy walk ahead of you. thus, as i grumpily trudged towards home to type the very article that you are reading now, i thought that as members of the press, we may control what goes into a story; but we can forget that kathleen - 'the million dollar brat' - is the story.

the beautiful one launches the pretty people club magazine

and only the pretty people are allowed to read it!

kathleen held a very ladylike and demure tea party in the ballroom of the arcadian riot house this afternoon to celebrate launching the pretty people club magazine and later on, hosted a celebration at the il coyote country club in the early evening. i'm glad she's learned her lesson - slurp tea with the rich people, your bosses, by day and snort drugs with the kids, your target market, by night.

she announced that not only would she be extending the shelflife of her fanmail column with hep parade  while continuing to write books and star in films, but now heading  the pretty people club as well - ☺ is going to be on the backburner, so she can have time to put the finishing touches on HEP!.

.still, she's the president of the pretty people club now and that includes not weaseling out of highly important presidential duties. and, did i just lose my mind or did the doll seriously promise more fanmail? NO!!!!!! i would rather have a feral alley cat scratch my eyeballs out than read more of that shit!

the best part came during the doll's champagne toast :

"someone asked me why i started my own magazine......i was tired of the suits getting all of the hookers and cocaine..."

LOL. now, even though we all know that the pretty people club is going to have already gone down in flames by the same time next year, i still want to take it upon myself to formally wish kathleen luck on her latest foray. she is so in demand right now that she can barely spit on the sidewalk without some photographer having a conniption fit. besides - i hear ☺ is going to knock us all dead.

mr. obvious says that kathleen is a bad influence

um, duh

trotsky was taken into custody last night for public indecency, intoxication and resisting arrest - when questioned by the fuzz, he told officers that kathleen was his boss and that she's a "bad influence" on him. i'm sure everyone in the police station and nearby vicinity was instantly brought to their knees from paralyzing laughter. i know that i was.

when the deputies asked why he didn't have any clothes on, trotsky said that kathleen had dared him to and he didn't want to seem like a big baby huey by saying no. when the cops asked him why he had white powder around the outside of his nose, he replied that katty cakes took him to a wild party in the easy street hills with all her friends. good cover!

okay, she may be a shitty role model, but the doll really came through with her witch magic and saved the day; she had her lawyer - judah fussganger - summoned and the charges against trotsky vanished into a cloud of glitter within a matter of seconds. okay, i'm lying - trotsky didn't get out until this morning and when he died - kathleen was nowhere to be found! still, i'm sure her witchcraft helped in his release, even if she was casting spells in her heroin-activated sleep.

without hesitation, once trotsky had been released from the pokey, he told reporters on the scene that he's going to give kathleen a good tongue-lashing the next time he sees her, because she was right by his side when the fuzz showed up - and then she took off running without him! he attested that wild honeypie was there one second and the next, all he could see was blonde hair fading into the horizon. he tried to catch up to her, but was apprehended and immediately arrested and handcuffed. LOL. i don't know what he expected - maybe next time he'll keep his head on a swivel like wild honeypie and run too.

trotsky - in classic sodapop fashion - continued to spill outside of the cielo jailhouse this morning and said that the real reason he's so bummed is because, "spending the night in jail cost me a hot date." well, why didn't you say so? the doll gets with anything that walks, talks and wears a trilby hat; but not everyone has it that easy! even trotsky needs love too.

speaking of trilbies, can someone please tell baby babble that it is not cool to pass jimmy's highly valued statement piece around to all her boyfriends? think about it - in a cold, dark and lonely alley somewhere, jimmy is trying to fight off the crocodile tears and is keeping his head warm with a pile of newspapers.

the doll's favorite number is 666

kathleen and satan, sitting in a tree.....

because halloween is like doll christmas - or as she calls it, free candy day - baby babble wanted to get in the spirit and spruce up her 10050 love shack with some super duper spooky decorations.

she must have sent trotsky to the death metal store, though, because he came back with shit like upside down crosses, pig's heads and other products that just screamed lucifer. he also picked up some lights, which kathleen "harmlessly" arranged in a pentagram. yeah, harmless if you worship the devil! her neighbors felt this way too; for, a couple of hours after wild honeypie turned the lights on for the first time, telephone calls began to pour in, demanding that she take down her halloween decorations. even some bitchy crab apples from the high road claimed that they could see her homage to halloween and were extremely offended. let's try extremely full of shit - the city is so polluted from the doll's coke smoke that you couldn't see a star in the sky from the high road, let alone a string of lights on the doll's lawn. much to my delight, kathleen's only answers to her neighbors' pleas were, "no," and, "go fuck yourself," - i'm sure that both replies were equally enjoyed by the outraged citizens.

this all took place last night, so understand baby babble's alarm when the same small fraction of the community were still outraged and took to the fence, saying shit like kathleen is nothing but a dirty witch and the only reason that she has made so much money with her writing is because satan is guiding her hand, of course! but let's keep it real - the witch part is probably true. now, even with all of the highly convincing arguments from the kooky residents of cielo, the beautiful one was adamant and refused to change the lights. actually, i take that back. in response to the public outcry, she offered to swap the display from a pentagram to writing '666' in her lawn. always with the jokes, that girl.

the people of cielo need to smoke some of kathleen's shit and calm the fuck down; you know that after halloween is over, she'll have the display moved regardless - where would all of her houseguests sleep?

the doll still has fans?

get out your official katty cakes secret decoder ring for this important message

well, well, well - you would think the doll would have more important things to be doing with her life, instead of  writing about sluts and satan and leather boots and tattoos and other bullshit, but you would be wrong. so, without further ado, please pull out your mirrors and your rolled-up dollar bills for our angel baby - kathleen.

Q: Does Joey Kiss have any tattoos?
A: yes - a butt tat that says : IF UR READING THIS RIGHT NOW....UR A SLUT......no, he has the shape from the cover of the creepy-crawlies' record of "a cowboy need a horse"

Q: Do you have any tattoos?
A: yes - a butt tat that says : IF UR READING THIS RIGHT NOW....I'M A SLUT

Q: When you look back on interviews that you did with Jimmy Kiss, what do you think?
A: i slither off to the nearest corner and hide and pretend that it wasn't me

Q: What do you know now that you didn't know then?
A: UM THAT MIXING HEROIN AND COCAINE ISN'T REALLY COOL

Q: What kind of people are permitted past the velvet ropes at your parties?
A: losers, winners; privileged white kids and strung-out junkies

Q: If you could say anything to Beau Goodman, what would it be?
A: shut the helllllllllll up

Q: Who kisses better - Jimmy or Joey?
A: I DO - jimmy kisses like a whore and joey kisses like a virgin

Q: Is it just me or have you gotten more spacey?
A: WTF - I'M ON PLANET EARTH......I THINK

Q: Do you use drugs?
A: no - i was born high

Q:How many times have you been arrested?
A: why - do i have a warrant that i don't know about?

Q: You totally want Jimmy Kiss' head on a silver platter, don't you?
A: i would never hurt jimmy - besides, if i wanted him dead i would have done it already - TRUST ME

Q: Do you know how ugly you are?
A: i've done thousands of videos - yes - i know how ugly i am

Q: What will it take for you to complete ☺?
A: i use : coloring crayons, cocaine, my bird's nest at the top of lookout mountain, candy, the downtown cielo public library, my grandpa's expired medication, china white, pencils and pens, fumes from the gravedigger's exhaust pipe, fizzy drinks, knives, ice lollies, insomnia, clean needles, a homing pigeon, stud cigarettes, payphones, satan's influence, weird-fucking-shit-from-outer-space, the soul of jimmy kiss, words and other top secret junk

Q: Do you ever shut up?
A: DUH - RIOT, DON'T BE QUIET

Q: Virgin?
A: whore

Q: Virgin.
A: WHORE

Q:Virgin!
A: WHORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Q: Did you know that hanging with motorcycle gangs is not very nice for your reputation?
A: WHO SAID I WAS NICE????

Q: What are your dying wishes?
A: "WE HAD A DEATH PACT, AND I HAVE TO KEEP MY END OF THE BARGAIN. PLEASE BURY ME NEXT TO MY BABY IN MY LEATHER JACKET, JEANS AND MOTORCYCLE BOOTS"

Q: What's next for the Doll after ☺?
A: she's going to start advancing money to a secret squad of dope-smugglers in inner-city arcadia, as well as opening a chain of satanic churches in cielo

Q: How does Jimmy feel about you dating his little brother?
A: SUPER DUPER - he's attempted suicide six times so far

Q: How does Joey feel about dating you, seeing how you used to bang his older brother?A: SUPER DUPER - i've only caught him with a shotgun in his mouth six times so far

Q: I don't get it - how do you even make money? Your books suck!
A: who are you to tell me what a book is? you, who have written so many books - how many? none? ever? i bat my eyelashes and a million copies are sold

oh, brother - some wonders never cease!