Didi & Pierre's Honeymoon Suite

“I’m so happy,” Didi sighed, bouncing on the edge of the hotel bed. “Me—married! Wait until they hear about this back home. Plain old Didi Poitissa is now Didi Poitissa-Mule. Only the classy ladies used to hyphenate back home, you know, darling,” she whispered, clutching her hand to her breast.

“Yes, my dear, I know,” Pierre said, watching himself comb his hair in the mirror. “You told me. Several times.”

“And now I’m classy too!” she shouted as she stood and threw her arms wide, upsetting a bedside lamp, which toppled onto a glass of tomato juice from room service, shattering it.

Raymond turned and looked as Didi crossed to the room’s window and flung it open, loudly breaking the glass.

“Can you hear me, Cransington Heights?” she bellowed through the broken panes, even though the town was hundreds of miles away. “I’m Didi Poitissa-Mule now—and everything is going to change!”

She held her arms out to her new husband and said “Darling,” as the sound of glass hitting the sidewalk rang out from below.

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