42 inch hips, and Chanel No.5

Mr. Mitriosis-

Hello? Jewish ladies? Even I am not that cruel (there is a little thing called the Geneva convention you know). No, I’m afraid you’ve been duped – something which I’d have to think you must be getting rather used to – or you would be getting used to if you weren’t too senile to remember from one short con to the next.

No, my dear boy, I must assure you that all the aunts, great aunts and cousins in my employ have been Catholic of Italian descent, and make their homes primarily in Seaside Park, where they are far more likely to be shooting pinochle than stacking the bones at Mah Jonng.

However since my agents have clearly been compromised I have no choice but to take drastic measures. Yet, the humanitarian in me demands that I give you ample warning. So prepare yourself, I have just dispatched twenty-seven Spanish, unmarried, eldest sisters from good homes. They will be arriving at your lawyers offices in the hour packing Double-A narrow pumps, 42 inch hips, and enough Chanel No.5 to once again level Dresden. May Blessed Mary have mercy on their miserable souls.

-O. De La Renta

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