((Having at last returned to full wakefullness, JBB notices that there are two pieces of paper lying on the welcome mat of the luxury tent...
Snorting loudly, JBB dismisses the invitation with a flick of his lid.))
%% Ha ha, nice try Liv. No way yer gettin' yer conniving claws in my TERRY CLOTH again... What's this?? %%((JBB picks up a postcard. On it is a French postmark.))
((On the reverse of the postcard, JBB reads (in a thick French accent:)
"Tarquelle, mon petit-chou. Your Uncle Pierre is tres, tres ill. Ze doctors do not expect 'im to make it through ze night. Please come soon as you can. Your Mama."JBB drops the postcard. How long it is since he last heard from his mother, the highly perfumed boudoir balm who stole his father's heart, and then broke it when she ran off with the heir to the famous Boudreaux Butt Paste dynasty.))
** SACRE BLEU!!! Uncle Pierre!!! I must go at once!! I ain't no use if I stick around here!! I'm coming Mama!! **((JBB goes to where TERRY CLOTH lies, still gently snoring, and places the postcard next to him before nuzzling him gently.))
%% Ah, my handsome and oh-so-strokable TERRY. Parting is such sweet sorrow, but leave you I must. I will return my love. But for now, adieu! %%((JBB makes a quick phone call to Director Raymille, interrupting the great man in the middle of a... *cough*... "casting (couch) call", before taking the slow boat to China via Calais...))