"Ashleigh Smythe-Hawkings!"
The sound of her name, spoken with such Anglo-Saxon harshness, in the voice of the man she dreaded most, caused Ashleigh to drop her whale bone needle amongst the remains of the dead but unendangered seal before her. Her companion and lover, the selfless indigenous esquimaux Nanook, upon hearing that voice, paused from his task of skinning said seal for the purpose of making environmentally friendly non-synthetic clothing, and slowly stood up. He kept a tight grip on the knife in his indigenous hand…
Despite the unassailable fact of accelerating global warming, the snow came down in wind-swept torrents. Neither Ashleigh nor Nanook could see the source of their terror. All of the sudden, as Nanook bent down to pick up his spear, the hazy, dark outline of a man and dogsled come into view before them. Over the crack of a whip, they once again heard the harsh intolerant voice that could only represent the worst in bourgeoisie heteronormative patriarchal oppression.
"On Buffy. On Chelsea. On Jason. On Brian. Mush…!"
Nanook now had his spear at the ready. Ashleigh could feel panic rising into her throat.
"On Simone. On Felicity. On Roderick. On Malcolm!"
As the sled came closer, and its driver became clearer, Nanook brought his handmade spear to the ready. But before he could launch that missile at the object of his loathing, there came the muffled crack of a single pistol shot. Ashleigh watched in anguished horror as Nanook reeled backwards, clutched his chest with one hand, and then fell silently to the snow covered ground. She stared at her now dead indigenous esquimaux soul mate in mute grief as a puddle of warm blood mixed with and melted the snow upon which Nanook's face rested.
"Ha! So you thought you could abrogate the legal, religious and cultural bonds that will keep us tied inextricably together irrespective of your unhappiness with being oppressed by the insensitive and suffocating domination I demand at all times, eh?"
It was Winston, cruel, cruel Winston… scion of a wealthy and notorious Boston Brahmin family, rustbelt non-union industrialist, social conservative and most importantly, her unloving husband. He held up the gold-plated Glock 9mm that he'd used to kill Nanook and let out a soulless laugh. Ashleigh looked about for something to defend herself with… In front of her was the remains of the seal Nanook had skinned, some whale meat they'd planned to portion and cook for dinner, and the whalebone needle she'd dropped at the top of the page.
"It's back to the Hamptons for you, Little Missy. And I won't stand for any backsass, either!"
In a flash, the horrors of the life she'd fled two years ago came flooding back: The endless days yachting with the Bushes, the summer solstice clam bakes at Martha Stewart's, the begging phone calls from Robin Leach…
In her panic and confusion she reached for something - anything - to hurl at her tormentor. As she raised the handful of whale fat, Winston laughed again, and realizing the futility of what she was about to do, Ashleigh began to blubber.
