Drusilla likes the new fashion in trousers, thank you very much.

Drusilla likes the new fashion, though 'tis quite silly.


Did Drusilla say silly? Why, trousers do not belong around a man's knees unless he is doing something quite unladylike like writing his name in the snow with golden penmanship.

Drusilla's papa had beautiful penmanship.

Drusilla's Dark Star had equally beautiful penmanship, though his penmanship was never as large as Drusilla's papa's - still, different sizes for different tasks.

Speaking of different tasks, Drusilla, now that her mostest favoritest men in the entire wide world including Mars but not Mercury as it tastes of licorice and Drusilla detests licorice despite it's lovely black color because licorice reminds her of Sunday Mass...

...now, where were we Miss Edith?

Oh yes, now that Drusilla's mostest favoritest men in the entire world excluding Mercury but including Pluto, are playing footsietootsie with Slayers and other social undesirables like certified public accountants, dust bunnies, and Emperor penguins, Drusilla has to make do and do for herself- isn't that right Miss Edith?

Oh yes, and the best way to make do and to make do for oneself, is to find the boys with trousers around their knees -the ever so sweet ones, who stand about with their belts about their thighs showing their underthings (please forgive your Drusilla, Miss Edith for even bring the matter of underthings up, so vulgar, yet so useful!) saying things like "wassup?" and "fo'shizzle" while bumping fists in malls all evening after their dear, sweet mummys deliver them to Drusilla in large cars with soccer balls in the back seats...

Drusilla is ever so grateful to these generous mums- oh yes she is Miss Edith, and so very naughty too, right Miss Edith?

How is Drusilla so very naughty?

Oh, yes, tell us dear, dear Drusilla, please? Pretty please with cobwebs on top?

Very well, then, since you said please, Drusilla - oh, but Drusilla is so very naughty...

Naughty, naughty, Drusilla, you shall have no pie!

Naughty Drusilla finds the boy with the lowest hanging trousers, oh yes she does, your naughty Drusilla, and do you know what your naughty Drusilla does when she sees (ahem!) underthings gleaming like bones in a bog?

Why whatever does your naughty Drusilla do?

Miss Edith, cover your ears, you're far too young to be hearing what your naughty Drusilla does!

You won't?

You refuse?

You really, truly refuse?

Well, then, your Drusilla will tell you - should you find it too naughty, 'tis your own fault my dear Miss Edith- why, naughty Drusilla grabs their trousies and gives them an abrupt downward pull, setting their undies free!!!

Oh how delicious: it makes them yell all sorts of words that Drusilla doesn't know but is sure are wicked: dirty-sounding words, like "ho'" and "beyatch"!

Naughty Drusilla stands, laughing and pointing as their trousers flop to the ground and they pull them up, holding them with one hand as they run after Drusilla screaming deliciously nasty words like, "Skank!"- but when they follow Drusilla into the shadows to reward Drusilla for her naughtiness, they forget their trousers hanging so loose and low and trip over them when they see Drusilla's real face and try to run away- how deliciously convenient!

And that, Miss Edith, my dearest, bestest friend in the entire whole wide world including Mars but excluding Mercury as well as Jupiter for Jupiter 'tis too, too gassy, is how Drusilla makes do and does for herself!