Hi dere mi fans!

Ow iz hal hof uno doing dese days? Lawd tings is getting treacherous hall ova de wul. Evrytime mi read a blinkin newspaper iz halways bedlam an mayhem.

Well, dese days Ms. Dulcie is very bizy, mi a promote me book dem, mi radio show, an mi talk show. Me ere sey dem heven mek wan dolly wey look like Ms. Dulcimer….eh, eh….Yu eva see mi dyin trial?

Ms. Dulcimer get so “large” dat de Radio Station wan fi gi ar wan Hintern fi train hup an carry hon de show wen she go pon tour inna Europe next year. Me nevva so warm pon de idea , but itta get so custed stressfull fi be hevry where at wan time.

Hanyhow, me decide fi hentertain dem idea bout de hintern, so me hask mi assistant Heverton fi set hup sum happointment fi get simady pon de show, so me can “strain” hup quick. Mos peple wuld a sey train, but me a sey strain ‘cause it no heasy fi run dis ya show seven days a week.

De Heverton him cyall mi hall hexcitable, tell me sey im fine de perfect gal fi hintern pon de show. Me hask im ow im meet har so fast. Im tell me dat im go a wan club and dem talk nice an she seem intelligent, so im tink sey she wuld be a good match fi me train.

Me no know hif hanybody cyan meet simady wid common sense pon de dance floor a night club. “Cause sumtimes dem de hardcore partyers no wrap too righted.

Heverton musey tell de gal fe cum roun 5:00 p.m. o’clock de odder eveling, an all a 8:30 p.m. she no show hup. Iz wen me a get reddy fi shut dung de radio station, me ere dis faint vice wrapping pon de door inna de lobby. Hevry bady gawn fi de eveling, mos a de light dem tun hoff an me was a get reddy fi cut tracks all de way huppa Constant Spring.

Me go look a de lobby door, me see dis tall ell hof a gal, wid wan broad s’mile from ear to ear. Me hopen de door an hask har wey she want.

“A looking far Ms. Dulcimer Robothom!” she say, hall excitable.

So me  pretend to be a wretch, me sey to ar, “An who should I say iz ere far Ms. Dulcimer?

“Lizbeth Shaw”, she ansa.

All de while me a look dis gal hup an dung, ‘cause sumting no righted bout ar. She did look kina strange to me. Me jus couldn’t did put mi finga pon hit.

Me laugh likle bit an den me hintroduce myself to ar az Ms.Dulcimer.

Me couldn’t resist fi hask har, how cum she tree houas late. She start fi tell me sum langa-lala story bout ow she wuk part time pon sum Burlesque Show.

Me no kne nuttin bout burlesque me tink sey she a elp produce de show.

Hany how, listen me good. ‘cause dis ya tory gwey mek you hair dem stan pon hend.

De gal no tep pass me an go let ar self inna me hoffice tun de light hon, anna hask me hif me have anyting refreshing fi drink. Me go fi tell ar sey, mi mek a mean punch, but me resisted de debil.

Sumting nevva did seem right bout ar from de begning, but me “pana-pana” wid de situation fe see what is ar deal.

Me gey ar a bokkle hof aerated wata fi drink, den she tart fe stray to de studio, she start fi play wid hall de button dem pon de controls . Me start fe chat to myself an sey, “Dis ya gal Heverton let loose pon me mad no chad.”

Me waz a tink bout a nice way fi hend de hinterview but she was a chat like she nyam wan fowl. Den she hask me fi show ar roun.

Me  get bex, me sey, “Ms. yu evva hintern at wan Radio Station before?

“No. But a luv music.”

Hmmm……so do serial killas.

As me a show ar de place, me notice sey she halmost hup underneath me. Me sey to myself. What de hell is dis. De gal start fe rub hup ar self gainst me. A talk bout, “Cyan you feel it?”

Me sey, “Feel what !! By de way wey kina Hintern you iz?”

Same time me get “Jamaicafied” pon ar an sey “Ease off de sistren, me no knoe wey you hail from but sumting not right.”

Me begin fi  get  feelings sey, de “she” iz really a “he“. De next ting me knoe,  de “It” start fe breathe dung me neck, an a try fi undress me. Me gey de wretch wan fling trait cross to de broom closet. All de falsies dem start fe drop hout. Lawd what a sight to behold.

Dis ya transexual cum fi tek me on at me hown Radio Station. Me tink me did hexperience hevry sitiation. But dis ya wan tek de
cake.

A crape “It” hup yu see, an de falsies, an heveryting helse dat was falling hoff an shub “It” strait thrugh de door.

Ms Dulcie luv heverybody, but she no play dat game. Me did knoe sey sumting waz hoff bout ar. Dat de gal neck did too tick far a oman. It did look too muscular to me.

Me ere plenty peple a chat bout de hinvasion of de trannies, but mi no pay dem no mine, since me nevva haf no reason fi hinvolve hup
myself.

Wan ting me cyan sey, “It” was a good replica hof a “she” and culda fool hanybody….but not Ms. Dulcie.

Wait till me me ketch de Heverton im. A gwey give im a good talkin to. Im haffi be more discerning dan dat wid de hopposite sex.

Dem  man inna de wul no knoe sey dat, “All dat glitters iz not necessarily gole.”

When me tell Missa Fowla dis tory, you knoe wey im sey? “ Him wouldn’t did hopen any door to hany eager beaver oman wid a tick neck.”

Till next time, dis is Ms. Dulcie sayin, “If de vibes isn’t right,follow you hinstincts.”