It’s May! And that means that a lot of us academics are taking a deep, post-end-of-term-marking breath, and treating ourselves to the smallest of little vacations… a mini-vaycay, a staycation, an excursion, or what I have recently learned Germans call an Ausflug. In keeping with the theme of respite, here is a little light relief in the form of a pleasant comic fiction. Enjoy!

Richardson’s Pamela is an Au Pair in 2012;

or, Virtue Confounded.

***
In a Series of Letters
from a Hip Young Beauty, To her Parents.
***
Now first Published
In order to cultivate the Principles of Virtue and Moral Uncertainty
In the Youth of Both Sexes

VANCOUVER
MMX

Dear Mom and Dad,

Seriously bad news: the old lady who owns this joint just bit the dust. I’m getting transferred, and I don’t know if there’ll be a wifi connection at the new house, so hang tight. I can Facebook you from my Blackberry at Starbucks.

Your Dutiful Daughter,

Pamela Andrews

***

Dear Mom and Dad,

As I was closing my laptop, the son of the old lady walks into my room unannounced and scares the %^&* out of me. He’s a total creeper. Must be pushing 40. He just stood there looking at me and smiling. What a weirdo.

Peace Out,

Pamela

***

Dear Mom (just between us),

The creepy son, Mr. B, offered to keep me on for DOUBLE the wages. AND he gave me a gift card for Victoria’s Secret. What should I do?

Kisses,

Pam

P.S. Can you top up my Vi$a? I miss spending quality time with you, and like, shopping. You are the greatest Mom ever : )

***

Dear Mom and Dad,

Mom, your letter made me feel way better about staying. You are right, money doesn’t grow on trees.

Mr. B treats me really well. He gave me some of the old lady’s clothes. VINTAGE cha-CHING! I got 3 pairs of high-waisted dress pants, 4 silk tops with totally retro gold buttons, 1 excellent Valentino dress that I might sell on eBay, 2 cashmere scarves, and Chanel sunglasses. The old lady was RICH. Now I guess it all belongs to Mr. B. …LUCKY!

Your Dutiful Daughter,

Pam xoxox

***

Dear Mom (don’t tell Dad, okay??)

Mr. B was totally hitting on me just like, two seconds ago, when I was walking down the hallway to find a dustpan. He told me I was the most beauteous creature to ever walk the earth, and my eyes were the pillars against which men might build their lives, which I don’t really get but whatevs. Creeper!

Oh em gee.

Pammy

***

Dear Mom,

He kissed me! It just happened!

[This message has been sent via Facebook Mobile]

Your truly shocked daughter,

Pam

***

Dear Mom,

So I was like, OVER the whole thing, because I screamed, and then he kinda yelled, and then I cried, and he gave me permission to never speak to him again, plus he gave me $500 cash, and some new earrings, but THEN. OMG. Then, I was in my room getting ready for bed and I can hear some weird-ass noises coming from the closet. So I open the door and it’s HIM. He’s in MY CLOSET. So I scream some more, and he’s like, “don’t worry, it’s no problem, it’s no problem.” So I was like %^&* you and told him I QUIT.

So there.

Love,

Me, Pamela.

***

Dear Mom,

I can never forgive him for being SO WEIRD, but he has increased my salary and promised I can give notice after the holidays are over. So…

Virtue safe!

Love

Pam

***

Dear Mom,

OMFG I think Mr. B wants to sleep with me. WTF.

FML,

Pam

***

Dear Mom,

If you don’t know what those abbreviations stand for, I can’t tell you.

Love,

Pam

***

Dear Mom,

Today Mr. B came into my room while I was listening to Grizzly Bear and reading Nylon, pinned me to the bed and started kissing me all over my face and neck and I was like, “Back off you Pedophile!” And he was like, “You cannot hold on to your virtue forever! One day, you MUST give yourself up, and because I find you extremely attractive and I have more money than you, it should be to me!” And then he started to unbutton my shirt, and it was kind of hot, but I knew better, because of what happened to the blonde chick on Gossip Girl, so I screamed, “My virtue is all that I have!” And with superhuman strength I threw him off me, ran downstairs, and phoned child protective services.

I’m gonna sue the bastard for all he’s got!

Marriage is for L-O-S-E-R-S,

xoxo

Pamela