Southern Charm

Out of the Closet and into the Coffin! In this titillating memoir, the dashing Larkspur Ishmael Benhorn (that's me) finally tells all, revealing the events after I was smitten, then bitten, by the delicious but deadly Count Zoltan Apponyi. Amid a perfectly appropriate hissy-fit of passion I snagged the Count's precious crystal ring. Unbeknownst to me then, the ring was a conduit to the mystical world of Cornucopia and got me involved with cosmic quandaries (wouldn't you know it!). The Count needed the ring back for his quest, not to mention that it prevented him from aging. Narcissistic bitch! On the earthly plane, I confronted the indignities of being the "living impaired," while inconveniently fainting at the sight of blood.Yeech! In 1861 I returned from Europe to Evangeline, my ancestral plantation in the steamy Louisiana bayou. There I befriended Fontainebleau, a French Creole bat with "battitude." Faster than a duck on a June bug, I became embroiled in my family's mayhem and madness. My sisters, Angelique and Aurora, (God bless 'em) schemed to get rid of a sinister-in-law intent on marrying our oldest brother, the Colonel, and stealing the family inheritance. Devout Angelique dabbled in spiritualism while Aurora had a lusty appetite for men and mixing strange brews (drink at your own risk). The Colonel bullied my sisters and drank to excess, lamenting the mysterious exit of his actress wife who left her daughter, Lucinda, behind. Now a teenager, Lucinda's budding sexuality aroused the lust in Aurora's son, George, a (really lousy) riverboat gambler. Zoltan pursued me to Evangeline and devised a scheme to seduce me (good thing), retrieve the ring, and extract revenge (bad thing). Did I choose the hot-blooded Count or stay true to myself? Sorry, not telling now. All will be revealed as intrigue plays and passions burn in...SOUTHERN CHARM.