Hi. This is Jane Austeen, and welcome to Proud but Not Prejudiced. Today I’m here with Amy Evans, an animated redhead in her early thirties. Amy is dressed rather unusually for our show in a full-length classic black gown. But I must say, Amy, that off-the-shoulder style and deep plunging back really show off your gorgeous tan. I take it you’ve spent a lot of time out in the sun lately?

AMY: Thanks for inviting me today, Jane. Yes, we moved from Cincinnati down to Providenciales this summer. No more snow for this gal. And you-all know what they say: when you’re in the islands, live like the islanders.

JANE: So Amy, tell our audience what you were doing in Cincinnati.

AMY: To tell the truth, Jane, I was a stripper. Oh, should I have said adult entertainer or one of those other fancy terms? Well, whatever you call it, I showed men my titties for tips.

JANE: Um, wow. I don’t think I’ve ever interviewed a stripper before. I’m not sure what to ask.

AMY: Oh, I don’t do that anymore. Walt hit a big lottery and his wife agreed to a divorce for half which wasn’t so unexpected ‘cause they hadn’t been in love for a long time. And then we met and he invited me to go on a trip with him, and the rest, as they say, is history.

JANE: So a romantic road trip led to your happy relationship?

AMY: Well, I’m not sure how romantic it was, especially at first. Walter was a perfect gentleman, damnit. He seemed to like my son JG better than me. But Aunt Morgan said be patient, he liked me fine. And it turned out she was right. She usually is.

JANE: So you called your Aunt Morgan for advice in matters of the heart?

AMY: Oh, no. She was there too. In fact, to tell the truth, Walt loves her almost as much as he loves me.

JANE (with an uneasy laugh): You mean loves her in a platonic sort of way, of course.

AMY: No, not really. Aunt Morgan is smokin’ hot, and she’s fascinating to talk to. And Walt is real smart, loves history and all that stuff.

JANE: My goodness. Your aunt must be quite a woman.

MORGAN: Thank you.

JANE: Wait, who said that?

AMY: Oh, that was Aunt Morgan.

JANE: You mean like she’s a multiple personality or something?

AMY: Naw, nothing fancy like that, although it is a bit complicated. She’s a real person except that she lives in here with me. Ask her something.

JANE: Hello, Aunt Morgan. How long have you lived there with Amy?

MORGAN: I came to live with Amy when she was six. I’d been living with her grandmother, but she was in the hospital dying when Amy came to visit. Seemed like a good choice, and she’s turned out to be my favorite special niece ever.

AMY: Why thanks, Aunt Morgan. That’s a real nice thing to say.

JANE: So I take it you’ve been doing this for a long time, Aunt Morgan. So how old are you anyway?

MORGAN: You know a woman doesn’t like to talk about her age, particularly a woman like me.

JANE: Our audience is the soul of discretion. You can tell us.

MORGAN: They probably won’t believe it anyway. But the truth is, Jane, I’m more than 1500 years old.

JANE: 1500 years? I’m not too good with math, but that was long before Columbus. Were you a Native American?

MORGAN: Of course not. I’m British. A queen in my first life. In fact, you’ve heard of me. And my half brother Arthur was a king. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.

JANE: Um, King . . . Arthur? Morgan? You mean, you’re that Morgan? Morgan le Fay?

AMY: And Aunt Morgan told me that this gown was way better than anything Guinevere ever owned. That’s why I wore it.

(at this point the network interrupted the broadcast, so we’re not sure what happens next)

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Strange Bedfellows has 4 first-person narrators. In this excerpt, Amy’s 11-year-old son JG is speaking.

 

Sava pats my hand. “Now tell me what’s so epic about Aunt Morgan, JG.”

“One day, Walt asked her a question directly, and she answered him just like an ordinary person would. So although I’ve been around her eleven years more than him, he’d already figured out that she was like a different person. So I got my nerve up and asked her like who she really was, and she answered me too. Said, ‘Hold that thought.’

“Then while we were driving down here she started telling us her life story. How she was born back in the fifth century in Cornwall which I looked up and it’s a part of Great Britain. And how her father was a duke who was killed fighting against the king who then married her mother and then guess what! She’s Morgan le Fay! The evil witch from the King Arthur story only she’s not really evil although she really is a witch. And somehow she learned how to jump from person to person so she wouldn’t die but we haven’t gotten to that part of the story yet and now she’s living inside my mom!”

I got a little loud as I told that last part and Sava holds a finger to my lips. “Shhh. Don’t tell everybody, doofus.” She’d picked that up from Marcus, but coming from her it seemed, well, friendlier. “Let me see if I got this straight. Your mom’s cool enough to sunbathe in the nude and she’s a stripper who trusts you enough to leave you at home at night all by yourself and she’s traveling with a really nice guy who isn’t sleeping with her because you haven’t said it’s okay, AND she has the real Morgan le Fay living in her head, and you somehow think I might not want to be your girlfriend anymore because of that?” She does this real exaggerated show like she’s scratching her head. “Let me see. Um, gee, I don’t know.” She crosses her arms and shakes her head sadly. “Marcus is right. You are a doofus.”

At least I think that’s what she said. I sort of lost track of everything after the word ‘girlfriend.’

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| [amazon_link id=”B00ISC1RHC” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] |

BLURB

Commentators claim that Politics makes Strange Bedfellows. Politics? Hah. I heap scorn on such an ill-considered opinion. For you and I both know: it is love that makes the strangest bedfellows.

Here. Let me give you just one example. A strange tale that begins with . . .

Walter—a loveable middle-aged accounting nerd. Crappy job, boss from hell, loveless marriage—who gets a do-over when he wins a big lottery. He hits the road only to find . . .

Amy—Sweet, Southern gal stuck in Cincinnati, stripping for a living because it pays better than Wal-Mart. Seems an unlikely candidate to do-over with, but stranger things have happened. It might work out, except she’s got this crazy . . .

Aunt Morgan—everybody has a crazy aunt, but this one is special. Engaging, seductive even . . . how old is she, anyway? And how can she always be around?

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Rusty Rhoad grew up on the South Carolina coast, practiced chemical engineering near Houston, Texas for 32 years, and now writes humorous Arthurian fiction “full time.” “I love characters who see the world with their tongues firmly in their cheeks,” Rhoad writes. “Life is too often serious; fiction should always have a place for the offbeat, the quirky, and the sardonic.”

Rhoad’s first novel, Return from Avalon (and Points West), was released by Soul Mate Publishing in July 2013; his second novel, Strange Bedfellows, was published in March 2014. A third book, Avalon, South Carolina, is due out this summer.

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Blog: http://allthingswordsblog.wordpress.com/