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Skeeter Kitefly's Sugardaddy Confessor

a novel by P. S. Ehrlich

Click here to download the Split Infinitive Edition of Skeeter Kitefly's Sugardaddy Confessor

Skeeter Kitefly Index

  PART ONE:  The Connections & The Confessions 

The Ups and Downs of Skeeter Kitefly

Part One
Part Two
Part Three

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Skeeter Kitefly's Sugardaddy Confessor

Part One
Part Two
Part Three

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Skeeter Kitefly's
Titular Assets

COMPACTIFICATION
behind the scenes


RoBynne O'Ring's
GRUNTS OF
PASSION

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TO BE HONEST

FINE LINEAGE

13 BLACK CATS
UNDER A LADDER

BOLSTER,
NOT MOLEST HER

MARAT À LA MODE

BAGELANNA

OLD LITTER

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About the Author

Contact the Author

Characters

Book Covers

Skeeterography

Etc.ography

Site Map

Links

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Last Updated

March 20, 2010

A deflated young teacher/cartoonist
named Peyton Derente is bowled over
by Skeeter Kitefly—and her astounding
proposals.
 

“...What I want is, is, is—like a confessor.  Yeah!  What a shame your name’s not Edward—see, that’s an educated kind of joke, right?  An ignoramus wouldn’t have made a joke like that.  And before you say what I really need is a minister-priest-or-rabbi you should know I’m not that kind of girl, I mean I was a Chinese Communist for awhile but other than that I’m not that religious.  What I really need—”
     “Is for me to be your own personal sugardaddy confessor.”
     “ExACTly!...”

Click here to read "Merely SAD" (Sugardaddy version)
(webchapter format)
 

In the first of seven monologues,
Skeeter boasts about her origins,
hyperness, compactitude, and
"cutiepiety."
 

...Being all compactified like this, I just can’t help but be extra-intensively alive.  Which explains how come I’ve got these sunspot-baby-blue eyes and this incendiary blonde hair, and all this pixie dust in my brainpan and this bounce bounce bounce in my zap! flash! step—and why it’s my duty to be cute.  Buttoncute, that is.  A cuuuutie-pie, as they say...

Click here to read "Proud to Be Short"
(webchapter version)

 and here to read "Proud to Be Short"
as it appeared in Unlikely Stories
 

While dining with Peyton at the Addis
Ababa, Skeeter (in an improvised
harem outfit) talks about her need for
attention, distinction, and recognition.
 

...‘Course, that has its drawbacks too.  Even now, when I’m practically
a quarter-century old, these big fat matron-types go out of their way to squnch hell out of my face.  They take it like this, in their big fat matron-paw, and go [nutcracker sound effect] to it.  And then they always say, “What a PRECIOUS little face!”  And every time I want to tell them, “Well no wonder, there’s PRECIOUS little face left when you get done squnching it!”  (I mean I want to say that, but it comes out “Mrmph
glub shmug...”)

Click here to read "The Center of All Eyes"
(webchapter version)

and here to read "The Center of All Eyes"
 as it appeared in Ten Thousand Monkeys
 

Over a jug of sangria, Skeeter goes on
about romance, intimacy, Sven-types,
and the significant difference between
flirting and teasing.

...Speaking of blows and the Nothingbutt Theater, this really ugly but supertalented guy named Joe Biggins and I once did that wonderful sex scene from Jane Eyre for them.  You know: “I’ve got a blow—I’ve got
a blow, Jane!”  “Oh, lean on me, sir!”  So here I am staggering around under Joe, who goes and drapes himself over me; it was disgusting but hilarious.  Hee hee hee!  “My little friend!” sighs Joe.  “Thank you, sir!” gasps me.  “Tell me what to do, I’ll try at least to do it!”  Hee hee hee hee hee!…

Click here to read "Lustdaze"
(webchapter version)

and here to read "Lustdaze"
as it appeared in Wilmington Blues
 

After sharing a pizza and a six-pack
and news about her sister Sadie,
Skeeter prepares to lay bare her own
darkest secret.

...I’ve never told anyone any of this before.  Not even Sadie.
     I don’t want to talk about it anymore.
     But I will say this.
     It hurt, it hurt like hell, but it could’ve been a lot, lot worse.  Right?  So no tears shed.  See?  No tears.  I swore I’d never cry about him.  And I haven’t, ever.  Not once...

Click here to read "The Quicker to Anger"
(webchapter version)

and here to read "Never Cry"
(an excerpt from "The Quicker to Anger")
as it appeared in Organic Literature Experiment

and here to read "Pizzazz"
(another excerpt, with addenda)
as it appeared in Ten Thousand Monkeys
 

A subdued Skeeter reminisces about
growing up (somewhat) in Marble
Orchard, and the compensations of
good food and horseflesh.

...You know those people who say if you get something really weird off your chest, you’ll quit dreaming about it?  Those people are wrong. 
So I got out of bed and headed for the oven—not to stick my head in it, but to bake swirls.  My first in months; it’s been too hot out to be baking in.  Wasn’t so bad in the wee hours.  I shocked the beejeebers out of Sadie, though; she thought wacky burglars had got into the kitchen...

Click here to read "Like a Couple of Horses"
(webchapter version)

and here to read "Like a Couple of Horses"
as it appeared in The Sidewalk's End
 

Switching from vodka to lemonade,
Skeeter tells more about Marble
Orchard, feeling restless and wasteful,
and the need to break through.
 

...And not just to be trendy, either—but To Be.  And How To Be. 
That is refreshing.  When you can stand in front of a mirror again, staring yourself square in that eye you’re keeping open; and it doesn’t really matter what you’ve got on (it can be nothing at all!) so long as you can say and think and feel and mean: Getta loada me now!  ‘Cause then you can quit your yappin’ and MAKE it happen, any old how…

Click here to read "The Envy of the Neighborhood"
(webchapter version)

and here to read "The Envy of the Neighborhood"
as it appeared in The Sidewalk's End
 

Laid low with cramps, Skeeter talks about Death—but cheers up after a nap
and returns to Life, especially as
enhanced by just-imagine make-believe.
 

...So howzabout I take you out, right now, and you treat me to midnight ham ‘n’ eggs?  Ooh and some poppyseed muffins!  Aw c’mon—so what if it is a “school night,” or that we have to be at work in eight-or-so hours?  It’s not like I’m asking for breakfast in bed or anything.  Let’s have a bit of fun!  That’s a practical ambition, isn’t it?  I mean, without practical ambition we’d just be stumblebums and doodlesquats, right?  Attaboy!  Let’s go.  I hope you know some good all-night eateries around here...

Click here to read "Lapsing into Indolence"
(webchapter version)

and here to read "Lapsing into Indolence"
as it appeared in Pulse Literary Magazine