The Platinum Girls

[jkh1196]

The Platinum Girls

Rue Mcclanahan as Blanche Devereaux
Betty White as Rose Nylund
Nancy Walker as Angela (Sophia's Sister)

Blanche and Rose walked into their Miami home. With the antique vase at the door, and the wicker chair in the center of the room, it felt great to be home from the funeral.
“I can’t believe Dorothy’s gone.” Rose had said this for two hours since Rose and Blanche left the funeral home. “You know Blanche, I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh, dear Lord, pleas, do not let her think!” Blanche prayed to get away from a dangerous situation.
“I think it’s been lonely around here with just us two.”
“You know, you’re right. Maybe we could find some new roommates! It could be nice to have a feisty woman such as Sophia around here again.”
“No, I was thinking we could move to a farm in Saint Olaf.”
“Please Lord, now is completely fine!”
“You see, I knew a man named Herbert Finckleshtïen. When his wife died, he moved to a farm. But he was very old, so the towns-people replaced his animals with styrofoam versions to protect the safety of the real animals.”
Blanche muttered under her breath. “Swedish dimwit.”
“No, Blanche! I’m Scandinavian!” Blanche’s eyes darted around in confusion of her friend’s stupidity. Ding Dong. Rose looked confused, but got up and answered the door. A short, white-haired woman stood in the door-frame. She looked much like Sophia.
“Oh my God, Sophia’s back from the grave!” Rose yelled out, and looked very scared.
“No, Scandinavian nitwit!” Blanche said.
“Not nitwit, dimwit, Blanche!” Rose said.
The woman started. “Is anyone going to let me in? I’m an old lady who suffered a stroke and I need a place to stay.”
“Sophia, I thought you were dead,” Rose said.
“No, Rose! This is Angela, Sophia’s sister.” Blanche then turned to Angela. “Angela, come in, honey. What do you need?”
“A place to live. I suffered a stroke while living in Sicily. I then realized that I had to move. Could I please move in with you. I’ll pay rent or whatever you need.”
“Oh, honey,” Blanche said, “you can stay here. In fact, Rose go get some cheesecake out of the fridge. We’ll celebrate the moving in of a great woman.”
“Ah, thank you so much, girls!” Angela said. “Just remember, I won’t be exactly like Sophia.”
“How is that?” Rose asked.
“I’m an inch taller, have real teeth and I’m five years younger. I also have a better pizza recipe. The one that Sophia and I shared; the one that’s better than Mama Celeste.” No one had the nerve to tell Angela of what they found out when Sophia compared her pizza to the frozen Celeste pizza.

Three Days Later-
Angela stood in front of the stove, cooking up a pot of tomato sauce.
“Honey, why are you making tomato sauce?” Blanche asked her.
“Because I invited some of my friends to come see the new house. I want to demonstrate my great Italian cooking to the guests,” Angela answered.
“Honey, all of your friends are back in Sicily. It will take a long plane-ride before they all get here,” Blanche responded.
“That’s why I’m making Sophia’s and my secret fourteen-hour sauce.”
“What about time changes?” Rose asked.
“I’m a hundred years old and I’ve had a stroke! Don’t stress my mind by asking me about time zones! Let’s remember, I was born when there was no such thing as time zones.”
“Well, with the position of Sicily, the time they leave will not come out to seem like fourteen hours,” Rose said. “They’ll technically be going back in time, so they should be here any minute.”
“Rose,” Blanche said, “what did you learn in school?”
“We learned to milk cows, patch anything that needs patching, Saint Olaf history, and Algebra.”
“Well,” Blanche said, “one of those things is important.”
“Yeah,” Rose said. “If I didn’t know when Mr. Feegleshnorn, I wouldn’t be able to make Herring Pound Cake.”
“Yippee,” Angela yelled sarcastically. At that moment, the door rang.
“Oh, it’s the guy I met at the restaurant when I was out with my boyfriend.”
Angela started. “Has anyone ever called you a–” Rose put her hand over Angela’s mouth, just like Dorothy used to do to Sophia.
“Ma, why don’t you try the sauce you’ve been making,” Rose said in an odd tone.
“Rose, dear, Angela is not your mother. Then again, the hair matches. Well, I’m gonna go. See y’all later.” Blanche grabbed her purse and walked through the single swing door.
“Why did you put your hand over my mouth. I was about to tell her she acted like a–”
“Don’t say it!” Rose said.
“Hooker, she acts like a hooker.”

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