Gnawing a bone Vivian looks across the wide expanse of her dinning table to her guests of honor, Maggie and Jiggs. From the comfort of their chairs they catch her gaze before renewing their frantic feed.

"Of course I'm wearing my opals," she says, "Can't a vibrant, exciting woman wear her best jewels for no reason at all?" Examining the bone carefully she tosses it across the table. The bone lands on Maggie's plate. Maggie eyes it suspiciously. Jiggs sniffs the bone jealously before Maggie chews it hungrily. "I haven't anything else to wear. I haven't anything else on."

Vivian's knife and fork work a mound of meat on her plate before hefting a portion to her mouth. She chews with assurance half listening to the disembodied voice on the telephone. Screwing her face into an endearing pout she blows silent kisses toward Maggie. Toward Jiggs.

"I am not naked!" shrieks Vivian, asteroids of partially chewed meat flying from her mouth. "It's frightful of you to suggest, darling."

Peeling her soiled napkin from her lap Vivian swabs indelicately about her mouth.

"Your mother is not a savage, Merit, darling," she says winking at Maggie, blowing Jiggs an extra kiss. "I'm a beautiful old woman who loves beautiful young flesh. If that's savage, than I'm a savage. Have it your way darling. I've never been one to criticize my children."

Vivian examines her napkin for new stains. Dabs her forehead brushing the napkin up and over her head. Readjusting her wig positioning it securely on her head she sighs.

"Naked! What a thing to suggest. I am not naked," sniffs Vivian a blush beautifully tainting her cheeks. "I'm wearing a shift. A muumuu darling. A dress for fat ladies. Not to suggest your mother is fat," she says shoveling a forkful of meat into her mouth. "What do you boys call them at the beach? On the Island? Caftans? That's right. Mother is sitting here in her caftan and opals with her precious children," she wrinkles her nose at Maggie, at Jiggs, "having a little something to eat. No one special. Someone from next door."

Vivian chews. Her jaw working feverishly she shifts the telephone from one ear to the other. Shoving a finger into her free ear she jiggles it furiously.

Through a mouthful of food she says, "I'm not wearing the pink." She swallows grotesquely, a serpent swallowing a rat. "I hate pink. Pink makes me bilious." She picks her front teeth with her thumbnail. "I'm sorry, yes, you gave me the pink for my birthday. You do! You do have exquisite taste," she trills into the telephone. "I still don't like it." She looks longingly at Maggie, at Jiggs, points to the telephone stuck to her ear and shakes her head.

"I wouldn't dream of returning the pink, Merit, darling," Vivian effuses. "How could I and not seem ungrateful?" she says pushing her fork around her plate. Spearing a succulent morsel Vivian holds it on the fork, examines the greasy, glistening prize closely before bringing it within a breath of her mouth.

"It was a gift," she says. "You gave me the pink for my birthday." Vivian opens her mouth to fill it, stops and says, "I loath the pink but will treasure it always." Snapping her fork the tidbit flies across the table and lands on Jiggs' plate.

Jiggs sniffs the tidbit delicately. Maggie frantically searches her plate hoping to find the same. Disappointed she grumbles, snorts as Jiggs delighted gobbles the morsel and looks at Vivian beseechingly for more.

"It's the thought that counts, darling," sighs Vivian. "I've never denied your thoughtfulness. You're very thoughtful," she says reaching for the carving knife and with its sharp glinting point pokes the half eaten carcass on the table.

"I'm not wearing the pink because I hate pink," sighs Vivian clamping the telephone between her ear and shoulder to allow the use of both hands for carving. "I'm wearing the blue your brother gave me. The one I truly love. I look lovely in blue." Successfully severing several slabs of meat before serving herself tosses a slab, as if throwing an olympian discus, to both Maggie and Jiggs.

"Why wouldn't I say the same to your brother, darling," Vivian says. "I don't play favorites. I treat my children equally."

She licks her fingers, moves the phone from ear to ear clamping it securely between ear and shoulder.

"I am not a monster," she growls, "I'm a mother."

Lifting her knife and fork she twists her face at Maggie, at Jiggs, to suggest the person on the other end of her line might be imbalanced.

"They are not the same thing, Merit, darling. Its dreadful of you to suggest," Vivian sniffs spearing the meat on her plate with her fork and sawing off a chunk with her knife.

"Can't a mother sit down to feed with her darling children," she wrinkles her nose at Maggie, at Jiggs, "wearing her opals without being criticized?"

Hefting the chunk of meat to her mouth she grabs it between her teeth and sucks it deep into her mouth. Vivian chews voraciously.

"Yes, darling, I know they are doggies," she says her mouth full. "I'm not insane," she says chewing briskly. "I simply call them my children because my real children are gone and never visit their mother."

Vivian swallows. Reaches for her wine glass. Drains the bottom half. Reaches for the jug to refill her glass.

"I wear my opals when I dine. I wear my blue when I'm speaking to you. I call my doggies my children," Vivian softly whines shifting the phone, lifting her knife and fork.

"I don't care what other people do, Merit, darling. I don't care what they say," snorts Vivian sawing at the meat on her plate. "Who are these other people you're always throwing at me anyway? I don't know them. I don't want to. Yes, opals are unlucky, I'm colorblind, can't tell the difference between blue and pink and my doggies are not my children. Are you happy now? Are you satisfied you have upset your mother? Maggie and Jiggs are looking at me worried. Unlike some people they don't like to see me cry."

Vivian sniffs, stuffs a piece of meat into her mouth and chews grandly.

"I am too crying! I do know how to cry! You can be horrible, Merit, darling," sighs Vivian swallowing. "At times I wonder why I speak to you at all."

Vivian pokes the meat on her plate.

"Let's not fight, darling," cajoles Vivian. "We were having such a nice conversation. I don't know what went wrong." She winks at Maggie. Blows a kiss to Jiggs.

"Of course, I can press all your buttons, darling. I wouldn't be a very good mother if I couldn't. Would I? No, I would not." She saws at the meat on her plate.

"I don't think you have to worry, darling," Vivian says lifting her fork to her mouth. "I have no intention of dying. Death is so final. It's so dead."

Vivian chews. Moves the phone from one ear to the other. Makes endearing faces at Maggie, at Jiggs.

"I'm aware of the superstition, yes," Vivian says wiping her mouth with her hand and wiping her hand on her napkin. "Opals are unlucky. Everyone who wears opals dies. Is that the superstition, Merit, darling? You wear opals, you die? Only I'm not superstitious, darling. I'm wearing my opals and I'm not dead." She blows Maggie a kiss. Winks at Jiggs.

"My grandmother gave me these opals the day I was born," explains Vivian shifting the phone, sawing the meat on her plate and filling her mouth. "I've been wearing them ever since. Whenever I dine. It's distasteful for me to suggest," she says with her mouth full, "but I'd feel naked otherwise."

Vivian reaches for her glass of wine.

"I'm having a little wine, darling," she says. "A wonderful vintage. You brought it the last time you came. Yes, darling, the giant jugs. Delicious. No, darling, you didn't know her." Looking at Maggie Vivian shakes her head. "No, you never met her. You must be dreaming, darling." Catching Jiggs' eye she shrugs her shoulders. "She was a great lady your great-grandmother. Totally undervalued. I don't care what the history books and biographers say. To me she will always be a saint."

"I'm not a religious woman, darling. I'm not," she says, "but I think of grandmother as a saint."

Vivian sighs. Sips her wine.

"I believe she finally died," says Vivian. "Hunted down like a dog and killed in a public square. Don't quote me. I'm not entirely sure. It was in one of the history books one of her biographers wrote. I'm not one hundred percent positive she's gone. The women in our line rarely die. Even when they're hunted down like dogs. It's the men with no staying power. I'm sorry to say it, darling but you aren't immortal."

Vivian sips.

"Immortal! Merit, darling. I didn't say anything about sex! I don't care what you do in bed. Why must you always rub my face in what you do in bed? I'm simply not interested," Vivian fumes. "We weren't talking about you and what you do in bed! Don't interrupt! Especially when I'm discussing death."

Vivian spears the last of the meat on her plate and pushing it through thick gravy pops it into her mouth.

"Death," exclaims Vivian chewing, "is so predictable, so final. I want no part of it. I don't want to die. But then everyone who is anyone is doing it nowadays, dying, I mean. Something of a trend. I've always been a great follower of trends. The asymmetrical do. Earth shoes. And now death! But I don't want to die. It's rather a problem."

Vivian sips her wine loudly, dabs her mouth with her napkin and shifts the phone from one ear to the other.

"There have been three deaths in this building the past two weeks, darling," Vivian enthuses, "All on my floor. Yes! Three! Can you imagine! What an incredible trend. And all on my floor. One dead in Eleven R. One in Eleven E. And finally Eleven K."

Maggie and Jiggs eyeing Vivian suspiciously yip and yap hungrily.

"Yes, darling, Eleven K. I said, Eleven K," Vivian suggests suggestively. "Yes, darling, I live in Eleven K. Don't be a idiot. All right, a smartaleck. It wasn't me. Just a minute darling my darlings are starving to death. Aren't you my babies," Vivian says grabbing the carving knife, hacking chucks of meat off the carcass and filling their plates. She blows them kisses.

"I'm just kissing my babies, Merit, darling," says Vivian slurping her wine. "Yes, you're my baby, too, darling. I'm blowing you a kiss. Kiss-kiss."

Vivian kisses into the phone, shifts it from ear to ear spears a hunk of meat she's carved from the carcass and plops it onto her plate.

"Did you get it darling?" she asks. "The kiss! Did you get the kiss? I'm so pleased. Yes, three deaths! It is hard to believe isn't it. But there have been three."

Shifting the phone, securing it between ear and shoulder, with knife and fork Vivian butchers the meat on her plate.

"I didn't want to tell you," she says shoving a chunk of meat into her mouth. "I didn't want to upset you." Chewing ostentatiously, an air of conceit in her voice with her mouth full says, "Yes, the body is still here, darling. No, it hasn't been removed. No one knows. I haven't told anyone but you. You're the first."

Swallowing conspicuously she quickly stabs another chunk of meat into her mouth.

"He looks peaceful," she says working her jaws. "Delicious actually. Something of a feast."

Vivian sucks her wine noisily. Delicately with her pinky in the air dabs her napkin around her mouth like a dame or a lady.

"Yes, darling! Feast or famine. Your father used to say that before he died. Wasn't it your father?" asks Vivian. "It couldn't have been. He wasn't that bright. Men never are. Poor darlings. And yet, he was the only one I could ever have possibly loved, you know."

Vivian dabs her eyes with her napkin sighs, wrinkles her nose at Maggie, at Jiggs.

"It's a woman's saying, feast or famine. Only a woman could muster the depth of emotion to make so powerful a statement, darling," insists Vivian. "It must have been your grandmother. Taught me everything I know, your grandmother did. But then why wouldn't she? She was my mother after all."

Reaching across the table Vivian grabs a rib and with little struggle yanks it free. Keeping her pinky in the air daintily brings the bone to her mouth and gnaws ravenously with her teeth.

"I warned him," cautions Vivian getting as much of the bone into her mouth as possible. "I warned your father. I told him. I came right out with it and said, '. . .' Isn't that awful I can't remember his name. I said, you fill in your father's name, darling, I simply can't remember it. I said, 'Opals are bad luck.' I warned him, whatever his name was. I said, 'Don't wear those damned opal cufflinks, they're bad luck, they'll kill you.' He said, damn, I wish I could remember his name, 'But Vivian, darling these opal cufflinks were a wedding present from you, darling. What am I supposed to do? Take the gift you gave me on our wedding day down to the river and toss them in?' I said, 'If you're a smart darling you would.' He laughed. I laughed. He died. Poor stupid darling. What could I do?"

No longer gnawing the bone she sucks it like a child's all day sucker or a streetwalker with a ten dollar john.

"If the poor stupid louse had listened to his inner voices, followed his primary instincts he'd be dining not decaying today," snorts Vivian laughing at her joke.

"But he wore the damn cufflinks, Merit, darling," sighs Vivian, "and look what happened."

She eyes her bone suspiciously, gives it one last long lick and tosses it across the table. The bone lands on Jiggs' plate. Maggie creating a diversion by yipping loudly causes Jiggs to join in the yip steals the bone from Jiggs' plate before Jiggs can figure out he's been outsmarted.

"Of course you don't know what happened. Stupid dog," laughs Vivian, belching into her hand. "No darling, not you. No darling. Jiggs. Dear, sweet, stupid Jiggs. It's nothing darling. Maggie stole his bone. Bad Maggie," she laughs reaching for her wine.

"Good god," she howls through a staccato burp, "My glass is empty."

Grabbing the jug she refills her glass.

"I can't tell you over the phone, Merit, darling," whispers Vivian. "It just isn't right. You'll have to wait until Friday when you visit. You can wait until Friday, can't you?"

She slurps her wine.

"You've always been an impetuous darling, Merit," snickers Vivian. "You're mother is a maneater darling but I'd never eat my own son. Not when there's food on the table."

She laps wine from her glass while reaching for another rib.

"It's unkind of you to suggest Merit even if it is true," giggles Vivian. "Allow me some humility, some humanity. Show a modicum of respect."

Bone in one hand, wine in the other, phone squashed between shoulder and ear Vivian chortles, gasps, gnaws, belches and sucks.

"Your mother the maneater," howls Vivian out of control. "Darling, your mother just spit wine through her nose." Dropping both bone and glass on the table she grabs her napkin and dabs, then blows, her nose loudly.

"Honestly darling," Vivian says jovially, "It's a lovely title. Would make a lovely story. You going to write it for your web site? I wish you wouldn't. I'm asking you not to."

She shifts the phone from one ear to the other. Rubs the free ear to regain circulation.

"I've asked you before not to write about me, darling. My life is a private function. Not entertainment for the world. I'd like to keep it that way," Vivian warns shifting the phone from ear to ear again.

"I didn't tell you yesterday when we spoke and I shouldn't mention it now but I simply have to get it off my chest," sighs Vivian weighing her breasts in her hands then pressing them up and together into an enormous shelf. "I have a birthday coming up darling. There I've said it and feel so much better for having said it and gotten it out in the open."

Dropping her breasts she lifts her glass shrieking, "What do you mean I don't?"

"It's not fair of you to question your mother that way. Especially in that tone of voice, darling," sniffs Vivian rolling her eyes at Maggie, at Jiggs. "I do so have a birthday coming up. I did not just have one. Maggie, Jiggs and I will simply celebrate without you. They would never question my authority."

Vivian gulps her wine. Winks at Maggie. Blows a kiss to Jiggs.

"What do you mean no one loves me more than you?" snorts Vivian. "They love me more than you. They do so! They do too! They are not!"

She grabs the carving knife and stabs the carcass.

"Yes, darling I got your card," admits Vivian quieting down. "It was lovely. Truly, deeply lovely. But it was last week. It's been a whole week. Why can't I have another birthday?"

She carves several slabs of meat. Fills Maggie and Jiggs' plate and then her own.

"I am listening to you darling. What? No, I was feeding my guests of honor. They're hungry little darlings. Can't seem to get enough. Yes, darling," she says, "I did get your card. I'd have put it on the mantle with the card from your brother only Maggie thought it was for her and gave it a good chew. She is an old girl but no she hasn't lost her teeth. You're confusing her with your grandmother. Your grandmother lost her teeth. That dreadful man, her last conquest, a dentist, can you believe it, a dentist, pulled them out. Said he wasn't going to get bit again."

Vivian cuts her meat, fills her mouth.

"I adored your birthday gift," she says her mouth full. "It's dreadfully pink and I wouldn't dream of wearing it unless I'm talking to your brother but he rarely if ever calls."

Vivian chews, swallows, refills her mouth.

"Not like you, Merit, darling," says Vivian, "who are so dutiful to your poor aging mother. Be a good boy and let mother have another birthday," she pouts. Winking at Maggie. At Jiggs.

"What difference could it make to a virile gentleman like yourself giving a dying old woman her last request."

Vivian sips her wine.

"I haven't much longer, darling," Vivian simpers with an airy belch.

"Did I say I would never die?" asks Vivian coyly. "What does what I say have to do with anything? It isn't polite to remind or contradict me. I am your mother. I can have another birthday if I want," she shouts. "Don't argue with me, Merit, darling. Isn't a mother allowed some rights?"

She stuffs her mouth with meat.

"God this is delicious," she says licking her lips. "I'll try to save some for Friday when you visit. Yum, yummy, yum. I'll try to save some for Friday. This Friday. My birthday."

She slurps her wine.

"I'm not going to argue, Merit, darling," she cautions. "We've been over this before. I say Friday is my birthday so Friday is my birthday. Case closed."

Vivian fills her mouth with meat, chews voraciously, says, "A gift wouldn't be out of order, Merit, darling. Even if it isn't my birthday there's no reason not to bring me a gift. Mothers are very appreciative of sons who lavish them with gifts."

She dabs her mouth with her napkin.

"What I'd like is one of those phones everyone who is anyone has nowadays, darling. Very trendy. The kind," she says moving the phone from ear to ear, "you don't have to hold to your ear."

She crooks her finger at Maggie, crooks her finger at Jiggs. Wrinkles her nose and makes kissing faces.

"Don't be cute," she sneers, "No! Not one of those awful speakerphones. I have a speakerphone. I have two. One of your fathers gave them to me on an anniversary."

Vivian refills and empties her glass with enormous fanfare.

"I don't know which one," she snorts. "I can't remember his name, how am I supposed to remember anniversaries? It couldn't have been a big one. We didn't get that far. He didn't last very long. How could he wearing those damn opal cufflinks? I warned him. He wouldn't listen."

Vivian spearing meat from her plate launches it across the table to land on Maggie's and then Jiggs' plate.

"Speakerphones! Yuck!" exclaims Vivian. "The sound they make is like airport announcements. Do you want your mother to think she lives at the airport? What a horrible concept! Stuck at the airport and never going anywhere. I shudder. I want the kind you strap to your head like an operator at a telemarketing house. It would make talking to you much easier Merit, darling. My hands would be free, I wouldn't have to crane my neck and it would help keep my wig on."

Vivian adjusts her wig, lifts her glass, eyes its emptiness dejectedly, holds her glass upside down, slams it on the table and fills it to overflowing from the jug.

"Damn wine glass," she complains. "It must leak. It's always empty. No, I don't think so. They wouldn't. Would you my darlings," she says looking suspiciously at her dogs. "They wouldn't! You wouldn't drink Mommy's wine when she wasn't looking, would you my darlings? Or would you! I won't have alcoholic dogs under my roof. I couldn't bare it. A bevy of alcoholic husbands was torment enough. I won't stand it in my children."

Vivian lifts her glass emptying it in one gulp.

"I didn't say you were an alcoholic, Merit, darling," she says. "I didn't suggest it. Are you perhaps feeling guilty. Your father was a drunk why shouldn't you be? You might want to check into rehab. Your brother the alcoholic checked into rehab. That's where he met that new wife of his. The last one spoiled. He waited too long. Finally threw her out. It's very trendy. No, not throwing out your old wife, darling. Rehab! Rehab is trendy. Everyone who is anyone is checking into rehab. If I ever got out of the house I might check into rehab only I haven't any chemical dependencies. Damn this empty glass!"

Vivian eyes the glass suspiciously. Content it couldn't leak she casts her gaze upon her dogs.

"Have my darlings been drinking Mommy's wine?" she asks wrinkling her nose. Filling her glass.

"Yes, darling I'm still here. What, yes. That would be lovely. You'll bring me one of those trendy telemarketing telephones. You're such a darling taking such good care of your frail, infirmed mother," she gnaws a rib. "Hold the line, darling. No, not an emergency. I've got a bit of gristle stuck between my teeth. No, I don't need a toothpick. Yes, I'm fine."

Jabbing her thumbnail between her teeth she leverages out the gristle, examines it on the end of her fingernail before sucking it off with her tongue and swallowing.

"It's just so delicious, I can't help myself," Vivian says grabbing another rib. "If you can believe the unbelievable your mother is making a pig of herself."

She gnaws the bone, licks her fingers.

"I will try to save you some, darling," Vivian says working the rib between her teeth. " But I can't guarantee there will be any left. So young and tender. Delicious. Between my babies and me we'll likely devour it all."

Tossing the bone it lands on Jiggs' plate bounces off and lands on Maggie's. Maggie hungrily grabs one end of the bone with her teeth. Jiggs hungry for a bone isn't going to let this one get away and gabs the other end.

"Sweet," coos Vivian, "My darlings are fighting over a bone. Precious darlings. Yes, darling, you are one of my babies, but Merit, darling you're all grown. You have no need of your old mother any more. You don't need me to feed you. You can feed yourself. What does it matter if I didn't marry this one. There have been others I didn't marry. Isn't six husbands enough?"

Licking her fingers she lifts her glass to her lips.

"Yes, darling, six," she insists. "I don't like to think about it either but I've had six. Yes, six husbands!"

She burps before slurping her wine.

"Yes, darling, that would mean you had six fathers," Vivian says reaching for a rib. Maggie and Jiggs tightly holding either end of their rib yap at each other insistently. "Yes, darling they're still fighting over a bone. Of course only one of them was your real father, darling. I didn't mean to suggest. . . I never wanted to imply. . . The other five fed you didn't they!" she shouts. "No need to be so damn ungrateful."

Tossing her bone it lands on Maggie's plate then jumps to Jiggs'. The dogs still holding tight to the rib in their mouths eye the new bone suspiciously.

"No, darling, they weren't very good men," admits Vivian. "Tough and stringy. I've made some lousy choices in my life. . . in my husbands. I'm not perfect. I try to be. I come damn close, darling."

Vivian sits back. Wiping her fingers, dabbing her mouth with the napkin.

"At the time they seemed right, darling," says Vivian. "We were hungry. We had to eat. It isn't fair your being so judgmental. I did the best I could. I couldn't do more than that. Could I?"

Jiggs seeing the bone on his plate drops his end of the bone he and Maggie are fighting over. Grabbing up the fresh bone he grins contentedly until Maggie realizing Jiggs has a better bone drops the bone in her mouth and grabs an end of the bone hanging from the mouth of Jiggs.

"Hold on, darling," Vivian shouts into the phone. "The dogs are fighting over another bone and I want to watch."

Grabbing the carving knife Vivian jumps into the fray by hacking hunks of meat from the carcass and filling Maggie and Jiggs' plates to overflowing. Eyeing the meat, tasting the bone, they simultaneously drop the bone still eyeing each other drop their heads to the meat on their plates.

"You still there darling?" Vivian nearly shouts into the phone. "I'm still here. You can't still be angry about your fathers, darling, your six fathers, my six husbands? I don't see what you've got to be angry about. They're dead. All six of them."

Reaching across the table with her fork she spears a chunk of meat from Maggie's plate. Maggie growls but allows Vivian the indiscretion.

Nibbling the meat on her fork she says, "All dead. Two heart attacks, three suicides and one car wreck."

Maggie and Jiggs having emptied their plates jump onto the table, sniff the carcass as they pass and end by jumping into Vivian's ample lap. She snorts contentedly.

"No, darling I did not snort at you," snorts Vivian. "Darling Maggie and Jiggs have come for a cuddle. Walking across the table they've jumped into my lap, darling, I didn't snort at you, at what you where saying."

Maggie and Jiggs bouncing in her lap leap at her face to lick it voraciously. Vivian coos and kisses her dogs. Grabbing each for a squeeze she presses the phone to their faces. "Kiss Mommy's darlings, darling. Merit, darling, don't be disagreeable, kiss Mommy's darlings. You know you want to. You are longing to kiss my darlings. Mommy's darlings are so very kissable, aren't they?" she says rubbing her nose against Maggie's. Against Jiggs'. "Go on Merit, darling. Go ahead and kiss them. Mommy's darlings love being kissed. Even if it is over the horrible telephone."

"If you are going to be dreadful, Merit, darling," cautions Vivian, "I'll hang up this phone. I don't need dreadful ungrateful children. If I want to speak to a dreadful ungrateful child I can wait for your brother to call."

Vivian hugs her yapping frantic dogs.

"You've got a point, darling," sighs Vivian reaching for her glass. "He won't call, ungrateful brute, and if he did he wouldn't put up with me."

Vivian slurps her wine, kisses the dogs in her lap.

"You're a beast, darling," sobs Vivian tightening her hold on her dogs. "It's frightful to suggest your only consolation will be my death! Not just my death," Vivian booms loudly, "but my poor decaying body undiscovered for several days and my poor starving babies with nothing to eat."

Vivian sips her wine, freeing her napkin from beneath her dogs dabs her eyes.

"They would not eat my face!" shouts Vivian. "If they were starving I'd want them to eat me. I'd make that sacrifice. Isn't that what mothers are for? Sacrifice?" asks Vivian heavy-handed. "Don't all children feast upon their mothers? For nine months in the womb? For two years upon their breast and for a lifetime upon their persons?"

Vivian pressing Maggie to her breast kisses Jiggs. Pressing Jiggs to her breast kisses Maggie.

"You go ahead and eat Mommy, darlings," she says through scrunched up face. "It's pure meanness, darling, bitter, sour grapes to suggest my darling Maggie and poor stupid Jiggs would gnaw my face off."

Vivian kisses Maggie. Kisses Jiggs. Puts them lovingly on the table where they sniff and nibble the carcass.

"My face was costly," admits Vivian refilling her glass and lifting it to her lips, "but no one is to know how much I paid or that I paid at all. Numbers aren't important. Facts are merely convincing lies. What do I care about truth when I possess beauty? Truth! Everyone is always going on about truth. Who cares about truth? It may well be trendy. But the trend will not catch fire."

Vivian adjusts her wig, empties her glass.

"Wine is so very refreshing," she says delicately silently belching. "A horrible thing for your brother to do! Having a child! A child by that, that woman! Yes, it does make me a grandmother, darling, but no one has to know. It's horrible of you to suggest. I may well be a grandmother but image is everything. As long as I look young I am young."

She drinks with defiance from her glass.

"I do not look like a Disney villainess, Merit, darling," snorts Vivian grabbing her fork. "I do not remotely resemble Cruella DaVille!" She stabs stray bits of meat hanging from the carcass. "My cheeks do not poke out like rocket ships! My wig does not look ridiculous! I'd never make fur coats out of my babies!"

Vivian straightens her wig, straightens her spine.

"I eat well," she snickers smacking her lips. "I may be old but I'm in excellent health. I may not be universally loved by my children but I am loved. And love, Merit, darling, is the greatest prize."

Vivian sniffs defiantly.

"Don't pout, darling," she says lifting her glass to her lips. "There's no written law stating you have to love your mother. It's all right with me if you don't love your mother. Your brother doesn't love his mother. Why should you be any different?"

Vivian drains her glass and sighs. Moving the phone from ear to ear she secures it between ear and shoulder while refilling her glass.

"Maggie and Jiggs love me darling, don't you my darlings?" she asks her dogs busily chewing the carcass on the table. "Don't make pigs of yourselves. Save some for Merit's visit. If there's nothing left we'll have to eat him," she laughs.

Vivian shifts the phone from ear to ear.

"I'm afraid they're making pigs of themselves, darling," she says into the phone. "I don't see how there's going to be any left for Friday. Maybe you can bring a friend or we can order in chinese. You like chinese, don't you, darling?"

"Don't be mean, darling," Vivian sniffs. "They are not horrible little beasts. Even if they eat me out of house and home, it is their house and home and not yours. You, when you visit are only a visitor they are my permanent guests!"

"Merit, darling, you're being horrible," shouts Vivian. "Don't speak to me like that. You can't. I won't listen. They will not gnaw my face off."

Vivian drains her glass and slams it on the table.

Pursing her lips she coos at her dogs, "You'd never gnaw Mommy's face off." They look up with meat hanging from their mouths. Into the phone Vivian says, "They'd have the good sense to eat the good bits first."

Eyeing the meat hanging from Maggie's mouth Vivian reaches out and attempts to pull it free. Maggie puts up a struggle. Jiggs yaps along.

"Give it to Mommy," says Vivian pulling Maggie into her lap. "It looks so yummy, you give it to Mommy." Jiggs not wanting to be left out jumps yapping contentedly into Vivian's lap. "We're just fighting over one of the good bits, darling," she says freeing the meat from Maggie's mouth and popping it into her own.

Maggie jumps up and nips at her face. Jiggs does the same.

"They're giving me little love bites darling, little loving love bites." Chewing loudly, holding first Maggie and then Jiggs to the telephone she says, "Go on and kiss Mommy's darlings, darling. It won't kill you and they love to be kissed. I wouldn't ask you to kiss your poor, frail infirmed mother, the least you can do is kiss my darlings."

Dropping the dogs in her lap she sniffs, "Have it your way, darling. You always have. You've always been a willful child. Doing it your way. Having it your way. Everything your way. No consideration for anyone else." Swallowing audibly she says, "To suggest my darlings would eat my face. It will never happen. I have no intention of dying. I wouldn't dream of dying. Dying is so lower middle class I don't care how trendy everyone says it is. Being lower middle class or dying, darling. Your choice."

Picking at the carcass with her fingers she pulls tender scraps from the bones. Stuffing them in her mouth and licking her fingers she says, "Like the black widow in Eleven J." She shudders. "I can only imagine what goes on in Eleven J. One day they'll make a movie of the week about Eleven J."

Sucking her fingers she says, "I don't know, darling. I can't say. I can only imagine. Whatever you do, I'm warning you as only a mother can warn a darling son, steer clear of the black widow in Eleven J when you visit, darling."

Grabbing a morsel from the carcass she pops it in her mouth.

"I don't know. I can't say," she says, "I can only imagine, darling. Whatever you do don't knock on her door, don't talk to her if she answers and don't ride the elevator with her, she's dangerous."

Chewing loudly she licks her fingers.

"I don't know. I can't say," Vivian chants. "I can only imagine, darling. She's very beautiful. A temptress no man can resist. Yes darling, I know. Must you throw it in my face every chance you get. At least let me dream."

Moving the phone from one ear to the other Vivian secures the phone between ear and shoulder, wipes her hands on her napkin and straightens her wig.

"It's lovely you've met someone nice, darling," Vivian sighs disinterestedly. "Maybe you'll bring him to dinner? What was his name? Harold White? Yes, that's right. Herbert. Herbert Grey. No, darling, no, I don't want to hear about your sex life. Do you think a mother should hear about her son's indiscretions. Can't we be like the military. You don't tell me and I don't know. I create a fantasy that people like you don't exist, or if they do, they exist in some other poor unfortunate's country and everyone is happy except you."

"It's tiresome being so deep. God, I need a drink." Vivian reaches for the wine. Disturbs Jiggs who has fallen asleep on the table. He snorts quietly and returns to slumber. Vivian fills, empties and refills her glass.

"Yes, darling it is wonderful you and Harold, Harold Ecru, I'm sorry," she says through gulps of wine, "Herbert, Herbert Grey, are moving in together. No child of mine should ever be hungry. Yes, darling, sex on demand is lovely but no, darling I don't want to hear about your peccadillos."

Vivian empties her glass and sets it beside Maggie also asleep on the table.

"I don't think that's fair, darling," snivels Vivian. "How can you suggest I gave you the taste for men. Because I had six husbands. Someone had to feed us. Women are born nurturers. A woman finding men to feed her children is normal, just. The law of the jungle. It's a jungle out there. Eat or be eaten. Just because your mother followed her natural path is no reason for you to follow her path as well. Find your own path, darling and leave my path to me!"

Vivian stifles a gigantic yawn.

"I'm yawning darling. No, you aren't boring me," she says refilling her glass. "It was this great feed and all this delicious wine. Maggie and Jiggs are already fast asleep." She eyes the nearly empty jug beside her sleeping dogs.

"Before I fall asleep I wanted to warn you about the black widow next door. That's right, darling, Eleven J," says Vivian. "She's a temptress, a black widow spider. No man, not even you with your Harold, Harold Beige, yes, of course, darling Herbert, Herbert Grey, can resist her."

Vivian yawns loudly, sips her wine loudly, quietly burps. Maggie and Jiggs accompany her cacophony with snores in two part harmony.

"Keep your distance when you visit, darling," cautions Vivian. "Eleven J is a bad lot. Children by every man who's walked through her door. She's indiscrete. Doesn't bother with the sanctity of marriage. With her it's just men, men, men and babies, babies, babies."

Vivian yawns.

"I can't keep my eyes open much longer, darling," she says with a yawn. "It's symbiotic. Like women cycling together. Maggie and Jiggs snoring away make me want to join them. They look so happy, so comfortable, I simply want to curl up on the table with them and fall complacently asleep."

She yawns widely.

"I'm not going to, darling. I can't. Not until I tell you about Eleven J," Vivian says holding her hand across her gaping mouth. "The board is considering having her evicted, darling. They have the right. They do. She's unwholesome. An unwholesome temptress living next door to your poor frail infirmed mother. What do you mean how do I know, darling? I know everything? I listen to gossip, I hear innuendo. I know what's going on. I'm not stupid because I'm your mother, darling. I'm under so much stress what with your brother's new baby, the brain tumor and all."

"I told you about the brain tumor. Didn't I?" she asks. "I didn't! It will have to wait, darling. The brain tumor will simply have to wait. I can't tell you about the brain tumor now. I've got to warn you about Eleven J now. I'll tell you about the brain tumor later. Later, darling, when you visit. Remind me or I'll forget. What was that, darling, I've forgotten. Yes. . . Yes. . . steer clear of Eleven J, darling," Vivian warns. "Men enter her apartment and suddenly she's carrying high and the men mysteriously die. Last week the doorman, a wonderful man, if I looked two or three years younger, less conscious of prestige and color barriers I'd have had him myself, but then a woman in my time of life can't have everyone but to allow that beast to get her fangs into him, horrible! Horrible!"

"I'm getting to that, darling, be patient," sighs Vivian. "The doorman brought her a package. With her temptress violet eyes, yes, violet eyes darling, like Elizabeth Taylors', she indiscreetly convinced him to put his package on her table. No sooner had he set his package down but she's pregnant and he's dead."

Vivian laughs coyly her eyes slowly closing.

"What do you mean how do I know? I know everything, darling? I listen to gossip, I hear innuendo. I know what's going on. I'm not stupid because I'm your mother, darling."

Enjoying a moment of darkness she says, "A temptress has supernatural powers over men, darling. That's why I'm warning you. The thought of a good woman may never enter your head what with Harold, Harold Black parading around your bedroom in his y-fronts. Yes, darling, you're right, Herbert, Herbert Grey in his y-fronts, I'll get it eventually just give me time to get used to the facts."

She allows her eyes to remain quietly closed.

"Not a thought of women crossing your mind and you come within three feet of a temptress and you'll be lost," she says from the safety of slumber. "You won't know what you're thinking. You won't be thinking at all. That's the power of a temptress. Beware. Beware."

Vivian's snores join the chorus of snores coming from the table.

"What? What?" she says opening her eyes. "Terribly sorry darling. I couldn't keep my eyes open. What was I saying? What? Yes, yes, a temptress has supernatural powers, darling. Powers I've always wished for but have never been able to wield."

Vivian reaches for her wine.

"She's got this amazing pair of opal earrings, darling. I'm entirely covetous," purrs Vivian. "She gets her power from those opals. If I had them I'd be able to harness her power. How powerful I'd be with her opal earrings is difficult to say."

Vivian gulps from her glass.

"They're gorgeous. Enormous. Incredible fire. Magnificent really, darling," extols Vivian. "She doesn't deserve them, the beast, with all her unruly children. And she's on dope!"

"What do you mean, how do I know. I've told you, darling," chastises Vivian. "I'm a mother. I know everything."

"If it makes you happy to say so, darling" sighs Vivian, "I'm a busybody. Being a busybody is one thing, being a show off quite another. And darling, nobody likes a show off. And you're a show off, darling. And nobody likes you."

Vivian dabs her mouth victoriously with her napkin.

"Satisfied, darling?" sniffs Vivian. "Did you get the response you desired? Yes, I was saying, I want to sit the black widow down and tell her a few things, make her tow the line but I'm afraid to set foot in her apartment let alone sit down in it. It's filthy," whispers Vivian. "Old bones and soiled diapers everywhere. Dirtier than mine if such a thing is possible, darling. Not much chance of making it out alive. Mold would creep up my legs and I'd become part of the furniture."

"I did say I would never die, darling," grumbles Vivian, "And I promise I never will but dying in her apartment would be like the end of the world. It's a metaphor, darling representing change. Dying in her horrible apartment would be a change from dying this horrendous life and living a horrible death. I couldn't possibly go alone. I'd have to bring my darlings but her children have worms and I'd worry the whole time I was visiting poor Maggie and Jiggs would get them by simply being in the same room."

She picks at the carcass, stuffing little bits of meat into her mouth.

Chewing loudly she says, "I stop her in the hall when I take my darlings out to do their business. They love to do their business in the hall darling. That's what the super is for, a lovely man, darling. You might like him. Maybe I'll have him for super when you visit."

Swallowing, tapping her chin, she asks, "That's right, darling, I've stopped her in the hall and said, 'You've got to get rid of those children, stop taking the dope and the opals have to go. Give the opals to me, they're bad luck. No, darling, she's never seen me in mine. I never wear them except to dine."

"When I see her in the hall I tell her, 'Take everything to the river and toss them in.' She laughs. Has a lovely sense of humor for a black widow. She says, 'The children too?' Does she think I'm an idiot? Of course the children too! They're so damn noisy I can't hear myself think. They get on my babies' nerves, darling. Poor Jiggs is a nervous wreck. The vet stopped over, a lovely man, almost ripe, to prescribe antidepressants for poor darling Jiggs."

Clamping the phone between her ear and shoulder she grasps the carving knife and edging a sleeping Maggie out of the way slices herself a serving of meat.

"I'm cutting myself some meat, darling," I'm simply ravenous when I wake. I'd better cut some for my babies, they'll be ravenous too when they wake and they'll be waking soon. See, darling, Jiggs has opened one eye."

Vivian hacks at the carcass and fills everyones' plate.

"While I had the doctor here, darling," Vivian says sawing at the meat on her plate. "I said, 'Doctor,' opening my eyes for the full hypnotic effect, 'Why not prescribe antidepressants for the whole family?' I did, darling. Why are you surprised? I vamped him. You're mother is a fabulous old vamp. You'll be getting your antidepressants in the mail. I wouldn't take them if I were you. They're not for people they're for pooches. Bring them when you come."

Filling her mouth with meat she asks, "When are you coming, darling? Friday. Yes, Friday is lovely. I'll try to survive until then. I'll get by. I'm just a frail old woman with no one but her dutiful little doggies to keep her company. I'm not like Eleven J with all those men, all those children and all that dope to keep her company and well fed. She'll come to no good, darling. She laughs at me, Eleven J. She's got one of those deep dope addict laughs, darling, like too many marijuana cigarettes, and says, 'Vivian, darling you're in no position to criticize what with all the husbands you claim to have had.' Claim to have had!" grumbles Vivian. "I had six husbands, Merit, darling. Six. I didn't care for a single one of them, darling, except your sainted father."

Vivian shifts the phone, cuts her meat and fill her mouth.

"I will never understand men, darling," sniffs Vivian. "Are you one, darling? You are one. Then perhaps you can explain why he took his own life, darling? One day we were married the next day he locks himself in the bedroom and puts a shotgun in his mouth. I never loved the others. I married them to feed my family. So my boys would not go hungry."

Chewing loudly she asks, "What could I do? We had to eat. Your brother hates me for the sacrifices I made. Won't speak to his mother. Married that woman and has a life of his own. Like you darling, with an unusual life of your own."

Vivian swallows, sighs, hides a belch behind her hand.

"I'm not hinting, darling," sniffs Vivian cutting the meat on her plate. "I know you'll never marry, darling. That doesn't bother me. Marriage, take it from someone who's married and married and married again and again, isn't all it's cracked up to be. What bothers me, darling is the way you'll probably die."

Filling her mouth Vivian says between bites, "Death like asymmetrical dos and Earth shoes are so last season."

Smacking her lips she says, "I worry you'll catch that awful thing everyone who is anyone is making such a fuss about killing all the hairdressers."

Switching the phone from one ear to the other Vivian adjusts her wig.

"I do worry, darling," she says. "I'm a mother. Mothers worry. It's in our job description."

Reaching for the jug of wine she shakes it briskly. "Damn jug is empty," she snorts dropping it to the floor. The sound of glass shattering wakes Maggie, wakes Jiggs, who yaps loudly.

"Of course you're not a hairdresser, darling," Vivian shouts above the din, "but stockbrokers are a hairdresser's second cousin."

Waving her free hand she points Maggie and Jiggs toward their plates. Wagging their tales they scamper across the table to bury their heads in meat and eat heartily.

"Of course you're a stockbroker, darling," snorts Vivian. "You were a stockbroker last week. Why wouldn't you be a stockbroker this week? Don't you have a seat on the exchange, darling? What else could you be? And don't say a hairdresser or I'll absolutely scream!"

Vivian adjusts her wig, slices her meat and fills her mouth.

"Why wouldn't you do it for the money, darling?" asks Vivian. "I hardly think you'd do it for the sex. I'm not putting you down, darling. I have not repeatedly stomped on your dreams. How can you say that to me after all I've done for you? It's lovely you want to be a writer. You'll never be published. I am not stomping on your dreams. I'm being supportive. Maternal."

Smacking her lips she swallows with a start.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, darling," snarls Vivian. "Your brother doesn't give me this much trouble. He does what he's told. No, he isn't happy about it but who said life was going to be happy. Sometimes a person must sacrifice their happiness for the happiness of others."

Reaching under the table she grabs a jug of wine.

"Yes! That would make him a martyr," snaps Vivian unscrewing the bottle top. "Nothing wrong with being a martyr," she says filling her glass. "Some of my best friends are martyrs." She takes a defiant swig from the bottle. "I do so have friends. I have a life you know nothing about. A mysterious life. A life filled with fabulous sex, darling. I do so have sex. Mothers have sex. I will talk about sex if I want to. You aren't the only one who has fabulous sex!"

Maggie and Jiggs look up from their plates of meat.

"I'm sorry I shouted, darling," pouts Vivian. "I'm frail and under a great deal of stress. It's the brain tumor. What do you mean, I'm not the only one? I am so the only one. You aren't frail, you have no stress. Please, don't tell me you have a brain tumor, darling I couldn't stand it. It's that hairdresser disease, isn't it?" wails Vivian "Please don't tell me it's that hairdresser disease, I couldn't live with the shame."

She slurps her wine.

"If for some reason you feel you have to participate in this cultural genocide," cautions Vivian, "we'll pretend we're in the military. I'll be the general and you be the private. We won't speak about it and you won't act upon it and hopefully as it has done in the military all will simply go away."

Vivian winks at Maggie. Blows a kiss at Jiggs.

"I am not insane, darling," snarls Vivian. "I'm a mother. A frail, stressed mother. Your brother hasn't spoken to me since he married that harlot. The nerve of that woman refusing to let me bring my dogs to visit. Not that I want to visit. They live in a pig sty. She's a dreadful housekeeper, Merit, darling. No, your brother refuses to let her have anyone in. He says he won't have a wife like his mother. He wants her to clean and be clean. She says what with the new baby she hasn't time to clean. She says my dogs would make a mess, disturb the new baby. Babies are sweet, tender. Have you been to visit your brother. He'd love to see you."

Vivian saws the meat on her plate.

"Not like this tough old geezer," she says stabbing a hunk of meat into her mouth. "So you were never close, darling. I wouldn't say he absolutely hates you. You could spy on him for me. Report back what that awful woman has done to him."

Vivian chews briskly. Winks at Maggie. At Jiggs.

"I'm not saying you have to darling," croaks Vivian. "But it would be a nice thing. You are brothers. There's nothing you can count on in this world like family."

Moving the phone from one ear to the other she says, "Why else would I marry so often if I didn't want to count on family. What else are men for? It's unfair of you to suggest I married for any reason except to feed my children. It was not the sex. Regardless of what you think I said, I am not oversexed! I haven't had sex since my last husband died and I was comforted by the husband of a neighbor."

Vivian licks her lips.

"She doesn't want him back," sniffs Vivian. "She said, 'He strayed into your yard. You killed him. The disposal of the body is yours. It wasn't embarrassing. It was neighborly. We're not close. I don't admire anything about her except those opal earrings. But your mother needed a diversion. And frankly I was hungry, starved. I'd recently lost a loved one, darling. Have it your way! He wasn't a loved one. He was family."

Vivian blows a kiss to Maggie. Winks at Jiggs.

"I am," she says softly, "a simple, fragile, frail is a good word, woman without any means of her own. Who am I without a husband, darling? Yes, darling, I am under a great deal of stress. The neighbors have been complaining about the smell. I feel so very alone. If it weren't for my darlings I'd have no reason to go on."

Wrinkling her face at Maggie then Jiggs she blows them kisses.

"I am not being overly dramatic, darling," fumes Vivian. "As long as Maggie and Jiggs are by my side nothing can happen to me. I worry about their safety. If they are protecting me, who's protecting them? If I should die in the night who would watch over them? Maybe I should get another dog. Or another husband. Maybe two isn't enough."

She jiggles her empty glass. Fills it from the jug and tosses it back.

"Seven is an unlucky number, darling, that's why I've never married again," explains Vivian, "but three is such a nice round number. Three is very nice. I remember marrying my third husband, your third father, do you remember him, darling? I was thinking about a third child. I didn't think you would, you were very young and he didn't last long. He used to take you and your brother for carousel rides in the park, darling. It was the only way I knew to get him out of the house. I needed time alone. Time alone with my darlings. Not these darlings, not this Maggie and this Jiggs but my old darlings my old Maggie and Jiggs."

Moving the phone from ear to ear she adjusts her wig.

"These aren't the same doggies, darling," purrs Vivian. "I like to keep everything the same. Keep everyone's name the same so I don't get confused. I tried it with husbands but men get terribly angry if you call them Bill, or Ben, or Marvin when it isn't their name."

Vivian winks at Maggie. Blows Jiggs a kiss.

"You don't mind. Do you darling?" asks Vivian. "About your name, Merit, darling. Your name wasn't always Merit, darling. I don't know what you were called before you first knocked on my door. I was in need and you were so eager to satisfy. It's not as if you want an identity outside of being my son. Not like my husbands who wanted more of an identity than being married to me. I don't understand, darling. Aren't I enough?"

Wiping her fingers on her napkin she drops her napkin to the table.

"After I married him, what was his name, number three, I can't remember," tisks Vivian, "Don't ever get old darling you start forgetting all sorts of important information like the name of your third husband but remember the damnedest things like the feeling I had after marrying him. I was so content, self assured, ready willing and able to take on the world. Round out our little family. Have three darling boys instead of two. Only he didn't make the grade husband number three. You boys were too much for him. 'Too many mouths to feed,' he kept saying. I smiled. What else are husbands for if not to keep the children fed."

Vivian sighs.

"You can't go now," she complains, "I have so much more to say. Couldn't you stay on a while longer? You should get one of those portable phones everyone is crazy about. Terribly trendy. They give you brain tumors but what's a brain tumor compared to the happiness of your mother. You're entirely too self-centered, darling. You could get one of those phones and we could stay on it all day just me talking and you listening like that princess everyone who is anyone is talking about, so trendy. She's got an asymmetrical do and wears Earth shoes. Her handbag is stuffed with portable phone. One of them is on twenty four hours a day seven days a week. Isn't that wonderful! What a wonderful son she must have to support her so unselfishly. Of course, it's her son, darling. Who else could it be? Her husband. Not with those ears. I'm sorry you have to go, darling. Go if you have to go. But kiss Mommy's darlings before you hang up. I will not let you off the line until you kiss Maggie and Jiggs. I'll pull them off the neighbor. They've been having a little feed. We've been starved without you for the longest time."