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This is all getting to parallel universe to me... Mrs Plop has pooped I think.... perhaps we can do a special Magique event where Plop ...poops out and reveals herself.... Messy and Daddy cut it out! Or start hittin the Lithium ... think it will sort BOTH of you out (ahem). I am lost by all of this ... or in the words of my toddler when asked how he felt this morning " Mommie I am NOTHING" i see my tyke is an existentialist at 2 and half.... HE is PROBABLY the real Mrs Prop
And there IS a Johnny Gato, and there IS a Miss Understood, and there IS a Shema Nails, and there IS a glamnerd, etc. We are all quite virtually real, and quite virtually alive.

So, my dear, please check your e-mail dated Friday the 13th, which is the date I responded, and told you about my lovely trip across the country (which might explain why it took me so long to respond). If you read it thoroughly, you'll also find an invitation to a certain opening night. I'll supply the egg. Big Grin
From everything we've HEARD, Mr. Joe's parties aren't usually described as "fancy"

Mrs. Plop, even if you're not, we're sorry you missed Cabaret Magique that night, as we won't get another opportunity to meet you for a while...

You'll have to understand that we've had several very intriguing people become very involved penpals, only to disappear without so much as a "boo!"

So, some people around here have developed a deep seated fear of abandonment, and you being a very matronly personality, have touched a nerve with some of them.

Give 'em a good spanking, It's what they want.

XXXOOO
Satori
What is going on!! (see the topic is started in Another NY - Straight, gay or Bi)... are all you 'gay' men being OUTed at closet Hetro's.... hey hey hey.. (shit eating grin) .....

WHERE IS PLOP.... reveal yourself!! I have this dream like the SPARTICUS movie...when someone stands up at Magique and says "I'm Plop" then someone else "I'm Plop" ..... believe me .. it will happen just hope i am sober (or not under Michael Madison) to see it.
...since I've logged on. And, now that I have, I've got some recapping to do.

How dare YOU Mrs. Plop, toy with MY emotions. You lead us all on with your eloquent writings, your detailed, possibly fabricated past and you employed near professional flirtations to wrap me in your mystery. You promise an appearance, and then FLAKE. Yes, Plop; I said flake. It's what happens when tired, old swingers can't keep using the old polyamourous excuse to hide your fears of committment. It's what happens to worn skin when you don't take Daddy's stay-young-forever beauty advise. It's what happens to genital areas when you touch Messy Bonnie in the wrong places.

So, now I see. The flakes left a trail to the answer. This is all a Plop plot. You and Messy are in on this together. Kidnapping, randsome, all to fund your disgusting love affair and your pricy addictions.

And me... Plop??? The sacrifice? The hopless romantic to be used as bait, then done away with like last night's used condoms. I see. Well, this romantic has had enough.

The Plop is pooping; the poop is droping. The Plop has dropped.

Anna, when they all stand up, "I am Plop"-ing I'll be there with you and your tectronic torpedo tits, and we'll blow the fuckers away.

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