A while ago now, I suppose it must be quite some years, against my father’s wishes, I instigated a long series of seances for communication with the control Black Feather and Mother’s mediumship.
The communicators who gave me the messages were the famous old Italian fiddle-maker Stradivarius and the Russian composer Rimsky-Korsakov. Up to that time you have my word for it that no messages from those illustrious gents had been received at our house! Strad who manifested first stated at once that he was sending the messages solely for me, and that I must collect them and write them all down, and that the financial results were to be solely for Mother and myself, and mainly for the purpose of assisting me and establishing me in my career. At hardly any of these seances was my father present!
Sorry if I have rambled on a bit but you know how it is, tilings do tend to get bottled-up over a period, particularly if you have no one to “chin-wag” with, and then it’s best just to let off steam. Anyway, thanks again for listening.
Sincerely yours
Laszlo
Dear Barbara Benyon,
Today I was very touched to see you looking pale and cast down with care — all because of the terrible troubles that the red-headed whore has brought upon you. She is definitely SEX mad — I know the type!
Of course I noticed that you did not go out with her this Sunday even though the sun was baking hot. Very wise. Take my tip and keep away from her as much as possible until the creaking, slow-grinding Law at last compels her to leave your flat! I noted by the way that she has now got some oily looking chap, probably her Pimp, to accompany her to and from work. But her time will come so please do try and cheer up. Forget her and that will undoubtedly bring the roses back into your cheeks.
Sincerely yours
Laszlo
Dear Barbara Benyon,
Only me! Yes, verily, I am doubly blessed. Fortunate indeed to have the famous Black Feather as my control — yes, you’re right, the very same Black Feather who was once “left-hand control” for the illustrious Madame Eusapia Palladino. And dear old Strad who manifests so readily, really “at the drop of a hat.” Rimsky is much more difficult I’m afraid, and sometimes seems to be sulking, but I suppose he is still much tied up with music matters on The Other Side.
Barbara — we are both, there’s no point in being falsely modest, generously endowed with blessings. However I do sometimes wonder if you may not be the type who accepts same without much thought for others less fortunate.
A friend of mine is a case in point. He happens to be smallish. For that reason he had to take humble employment — definitely not in keeping with his education, upbringing, family background, etc. This friend of mine was always most methodical, patient and anxious to please. But the men in the place where he worked were immediately jealous of him and could see that the Boss took a friendly interest in him and that he was well placed for early promotion. So they started a campaign! Threats, hints, lies and abuse! They tried a number of plots which all failed miserably. Vile libels, etc! The last straw was the planting of stolen goods! A fiendish set-up you say? But would you credit that such a chap would get his own back on that foul gang of toughs? Well he did! With Strad’s help! They certainly reaped the whirlwind, or should I say the furnace? Ha-ha! IT1 tell you all about it one day.
I don’t think I ever finished off the tale about the Rev. Gent my father. Through a foul trick he published all those confidential chats with Strad and Rimsky on his own!! This meant the loss of ten years’ work! After a lot of wrangling father gave us a signed contract that we should receive 50 % of the profits. And a signed confession of his own free will. Strad said that compromise was the only way and I thought we should listen to the wise old fiddle-maker. So, all serene. Then — what do you think? Father decamped, a moonlit flit no less, with that precious contract and confession. Now you may have some inkling of what Mother went through at that precious Vicarage! We of course wrote to the publishers insisting that a clause should be put in the contract to allow us a percentage. Result? — no reply.
What a nice new black dress! And I was glad to see the way you ignored that crude oaf who wanted to maul you in getting off the bus this morning. Don’t think that we are all like that (SEX mad).
Yours sincerely
Laszlo
Dear Barbara Benyon,
May a comparative stranger give you a word of advice? Fairly blunt but with the very best of intentions withal. Don’t encourage strange men by smiling at them. Now you see how closely I have you under observation.
Yours sincerely
Laszlo
Dear Barbara Benyon,
Did I ever tell you about Mrs. Fitz? Not her real name of course, I’m rather careful about such things. She definitely “took a shine” to me. Of course I could see some of her faults, at least some of the physical ones, from the start. Those great thick legs with ankles that bulged over her size 9 plates of meat — it amused her to contrast them with my own very neat size fives. That none-too-clean neck and oh those hairy moles! But something about her manner, at first she feigned a quiet modesty, reminded me of Mother. Later on I found out her true nature — how greedy she was — and other things!
Mrs. Fitz lived all alone like a hermit in a great big dark house, but pigged it in only two rooms, never cleaning anything and hardly ever washing her crocks. It was a very gloomy house with big trees that shut out the light and the garden was all overgrown with weeds. Every single room in the house was full of junk. She never threw anything away and there were hundreds of empty bottles and piles of tins and bags in the kitchen. Another pile of unread newspapers and unopened letters in the hall. There was so much stuff in some rooms that you couldn’t get into them. I only hung around there as she promised to set me up in my career.
In a hurry so I must close.
By the way am I mistaken or is someone following you? I mean someone apart from me of course.
Sincerely yours
Laszlo
Dear Barbara Benyon,
“Suffocated with a pillow!” I hear you exclaim your doubt and derision at the very suggestion. Yes, indeed, how could they be sure? Who is to say that the Rev. Gent did not suffocate himself? One thing is certain — Mother was quite innocent! But you see Strad says there is no justice in this world. He says that on The Other Side all is different. Sometimes, I must admit, I do rather long to be there.
Ever sincerely
Laszlo
Dear Miss Benyon,
Just to say that I am definitely on to the blonde beast who is now your constant companion and his Jewboy friend. Are the police really recruiting Yids now? Well they must be hard up if they stoop to having Kikes working for them! The police would be well advised to keep out of my affairs. Where do they all skulk when they are really needed?
One tries hard only to think of pleasanter subjects but under pressure it is difficult. Oh yes I was telling you about Mrs. Fitz (not her real name so no investigations about that by request please). Would you believe she had kept all her old toys and those of her long-dead brother? On the sideboard in the diningroom there were long lines of toy soldiers smothered in dust. One afternoon she fell asleep, looking a disgusting sight with her large mouth wide open and showing her denture plate. I explored the whole place and decided on a plan.