From the Desk of Lady Miss (Southern Belle Insults, #2)

by Keke Palmer

I said in a clear and firm tone that would rival MISS DIAHANN CARROLL’s on any episode of Dynasty, “YOU, SIR. We need to and MUST do something about the décor of this building. I mean, it’s fine for a condemned rest home

“Much like an untrimmed carpet on a well-built man, it’s making my eyes water with distaste!”

“How has this girl been living like this? Ah, well, I know the answer. She hasn’t been living at all. Simply existing.

“Those beige curtains are as boring as a pair of granny panties. How could I deal without black silk and lace trim? GONE!

The couch must be burned and the ashes buried. Leather to replace it? Or velvet? Making love on either may be sticky, but sometimes that’s the only way to be! And the bedspread, what was that gal thinking? OUT

My feet sank into the plush, beautiful rug. Almost as beautiful as ME. Almost.

Instead of those institutional blinds, beautiful red satin curtains hung in the windows—much like the dress I wore to my first husband’s funeral!

“Janet needs to stop behaving like a hermit in the woods and work some connections!”

I took pity on the poor man’s fine ass!

like a medium macchiato, extra shot, extra hot and spicy, please. Can you handle all of THAT?”

Well, wasn’t that lovely—he’d given me a large and not the medium I paid for. I winked at him and gave him a little hair toss. Let’s hope the next item he gave me was just as LARGE.

The woman who’d glared at me got her coffee right after I did and tried to beat me to the door, bless her little heart. I truly didn’t care, but how dare she try and be petty toward me? I ever so slightly kicked my foot out and she happened to take a tumble. OOPS!

Ken was one of those “woke” white men who thinks he’s down with the people. You know the kind: big sneakers, bad haircut,

I almost never say this, but right now, there were more important things than aesthetics. It was time to let this whole company know who was in charge.

Seating charts are very important—I learned that at a dinner party where I happened to be sleeping with the host, his wife, their butler, and a man named BUTLER, and our paths crossed way too many times for comfort—all because of the seating chart! It’s KEY, doll.

Your ideas were fantastic, but the way you handled Ken and Gary . . . and Brad . . . was honestly inspiring. I’m so glad you joined our team.”

Candace and I were silent. Ken, bless his heart, thought our speechlessness was because we were impressed, but I assure you we were silent with mortification!

“Oh, honey,” I said. “Please let Candace and me do the talking here to today’s youth. You’ve done enough”—I looked him up and down and flicked my fan—“showing up dressed like THAT.”

Me? Make myself look bad? Outrageous! Impossible! Slander! Foolishness! TOMFOOLERY! I couldn’t believe she’d said something like that to me!

“Okay, Rahdswee, like I say about the flowers I have delivered to my fifth husband’s graveside biweekly, I know when the time is right for a change, and that time is NOW,”

No need to hide that, like my eighth husband tried to hide his many offshore accounts and his frightening collection of Barbie Dreamhouses during our divorce!

She flashed them a million-dollar smile and a hair toss that almost rivaled that of my dear friend BEYONCÉ.

“OHHHH my Godddd. LIKE HI! HEY. You. Good. To. See. You. Boo. Like, this wig is just AMAZE, like AMAZE. Like, I think I might have to say it again. AMAZE. This ’DO is now like my HALO. H dot A dot L dot OOOO dot. In the style of Beyoncé, clearly!”

🤣🤣🤣 Not the Valley voice! Keke!!!