Newsletter -- Myra Kula Electra

I've had a decent couple of days around the office, with the ouster of most of my newsletter staff. The peace that descended from above was a welcome change from the rancor and continual outbursts you get when prisoners (work release farm) are on the premises. So this has been good for me. I've been getting back to myself, getting my head cleared after ... must have been a month and half of their crap.

The only outburst today came when I learned something about The Lady, my only female staffer, that blew my mind. You have to remember, I never knew The Lady's name. I actually took her on the staff as a kind of token woman, and even if I stood in a court of law with my hand on a million Bibles, I wouldn't have be able to tell you how I got her. The best I could've guessed would be, for some reason she was simply there and I hired her. Weird, I know.

Well, it turns out that is true. Now that a lot more's been revealed.

One of my neighbors was walking his dog by earlier -- my dog and his were nose to nose and behaving themselves -- and asked how things were going with the newsletter. I started telling him about the firing of the men and he waved me off, being a reader of the blog. He then said something that blew my mind, "How's Myra?" Myra? I'm wracking my mind trying to think of a relative named Myra, a neighborhood dog, anything, and he saw my thrashing about. I go, "Who's Myra?" "The Lady, you do know her name, don't you?" I'm waving my hand, for "Details, details." And he says, "I figured you knew Myra Kula Electra."

It hit me like a ton of bricks, a huge wall of bricks, toppling like they're in an earthquake. "Myra Kula Electra? You're full of it!" But he didn't break character, he was serious. He goes, "If she ain't Myra Kula Electra, what's her name?" And I had to admit again, "I don't know, I never asked." "Did she give you a fake name?" "No," I said, "I didn't ask and she didn't say." He went away chuckling, with his little well-behaved dog, and left me alone with my thoughts.

I picked up the paper and headed for the house, and glanced down. The byline on the top article was by her, Myra Kula Electra, of course. She's a well-known staff writer, and maybe an editor, at the local Daily News, known mostly as an in-depth investigative type. If there's a scandal somewhere, and someone feeds her the dirt -- along, presumably, with her own digging -- it's a Myra Kula Electra scoop. The newspaper's the same as most local rags, lots of ribbon-cuttings and guys shaking hands and passing out big checks. But they're also on the look-out for scandal, when they bring in ... The Lady.

Sitting alone with my thoughts, of course I was hashing it out: Is Myra Kula Electra about to sink me? Did I treat her right? Could she have misinterpreted some of my displays of affection? Is she going to nail me for any alleged mistreatment of the prisoners, Dashing Danny Whrfr, Spud Tuber, Stanley "Tipsy" White, and Cannibal? I treated those bastards pretty good, all things considered. Gave them a taste of freedom, a chance to do something productive with their lives, a little self-esteem, trusted them to run around in my name and for the newsletter, and even took them to the July 4th celebration ... where ... each one of them nailed MYRA KULA ELECTRA! at my feet ... But that wasn't my idea, and, frankly, she seemed quite into it!

Oh my God! I started thinking, like I always do when there's a crisis afoot, What do I do now? How do I get myself out of this mess? Then I remembered some of my own teachings given at seminars, and which would make a good newsletter blurb, If there's a problem in your life, take a deep breath and wait and see what might happen. I breathed deeply, It'll all be OK. And, I thought, even if she does nail me in an article, I can surely come up with a good enough explanation that I won't have to leave town. Seriously, Myra Kula Electra's nailed people and they've left town, that's the kind of shame that really happens.

Once calmed down, I started thinking, How about that? My Lady's Myra Kula Electra! I really loosened up, listening to some music, taking a shower, lounging around the house in my bathrobe. I sat in my chair and started saying The Lady's name, over and over. I said it, must've been 100 times, till it flowed off the tongue like .... smooth, baby, smooth as silk ... "Myra Kula Electra, Myra Kula Electra, Myra Kula Electra, Myra Kula Electra...." It's a very calming name, all the A's, like poetry. Very calming, except for the poor bastards who end up in her articles.

"Myra Kula Electra, Myra Kula Electra, Myra Kula Electra," I repeated, when I heard the key turn. It was her!