Margaret stood outside Spencer’s chambers as the upstairs maid, Thumbelina, approached. "Shhhhhhhh!" she whispered to the young Irish girl. "Don’t take him his vittles just yet, I think he’s still sleeping."
"Yes, ma’am," replied the maid, "I’ll leave his tray here on the commode."
"No, don’t put his eggs in the toilet! Oh… you mean that chester drawers table thing over there. I swear, I’ll never get used to ya’ll’s European English…" Margaret laughed uncomfortably. "You skeetdaddle on downstairs and tell Cook I’d like some fried eggs over easy and red-eye gravy on my side of grits, and some sweet potato biscuits. And a couple slices of country ham… and have her make some sweet tea for later today."
The door flew open and revealed an angry Spencer dressed in his smoking jacket, and silk trousers. He had not yet donned his toupee. "Damn! Damn! Margaret Hollingsworth-Morgan Montgomery, you have not taken your medication, have you? What’s this… what’s this… grits? red-eye gravy? Sweet tea! Take your pills… take them right this instant! Today, of all days, is not the time for Erma Lee to appear! We have guests. Next thing I know, Erma Lee’s Uncle Buddy will drive up with your Mama Mae and Daddy Bill in tow. God help me… the last thing I need is your real family. Not today. Where is that dam-ned Seroquel? Nurse! Nurse!"