All Silk And Then Some



Pete & Charles

I was sitting in my office at Numero Uno Rodeo Drive, wearing my Gucci loafers, Armani suit, Lagerfeld shirt, a gold lamé shoulder holster, in which I keep “GOLDA,” my gold-plated .357 with mother-of-pearl grips. I was listening to the honeyed tones of Johnny Mathis, sipping on a Perrier, just waiting for who knows who, to come in and ask me to do who knows what, who knows where, when he walked in.  “They kidnapped Veronica!  Please help me, Mister Pansy.  You just have to.”  “Excuse me,” he said, “I’m Charles Beignet.  Call me Chuck.”


Veronica turned out to be a male bulldog, 81 pounds his last time at the salon, and 33 inches around the brisket.  His owner turned out to be Charles Benjamin, heir to Benjy Burgers, “Billions and Billions Broiled Better for You.”

The Question?

How tough could it be to find an 81-pound, 33-inches at the brisket male bulldog who answered to Veronica?  That’s some story.

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