Those Harvey Girls

Yes, someone really should plug Barbara Harvey's big mouth. She always was sort of a tedious person to be around anyway, imagining herself the center of the universe and herself the only avenue of social activity that I ever had in college, and so maybe that is partly why we hardly ever talked. So what if I was not invited to become a Popineau kitchen slave? God had better plans for me. I will be just fine without Barbara for an in-law. Thus, I have no problem with Barbara confining herself to the kitchen sink where she can slave away washing everyone else's dirty dishes. It will be a huge relief not to have Barbara Harvey and her faceless minions in my life. I have other things on my mind than Barbara's sick thinking. After all, Barbara Harvey actually has nothing intelligent to say about me and neither does her boring sister. They are just vicious Arkansas attack dogs perhaps still plugging away at Civil War grudges, nothing more than that. All the bitter griping in the world will not compensate for the wickedness of Arkansas creep Dalton Webber.