Mary: Say hello to your heir… Matthew: Hello little baby. Mary you make me so happy… Baby: You’re going to die on the road in a moment… isn’t he mama? Mary: yes… he is…
This season, Downton Abbey has killed off the only nice people who made it palatable. If they do in the Dowager Countess, I’m so out… I was seething last night, SEETHING I tell you, when the episode I recorded on our DVR ended.
A couple weeks ago, they killed off Sybil moments after she gave birth. Leaving us with her dreadful sister Mary clawing after her dead sister’s motherless daughter and her grandmother-cum-sister Edith to go find a job in town working for that lawless newspaper as … >horrors!< a Writer.
And now, just a few minutes after Mary’s baby was born, its dreamy father, Matthew (the other character in the house with any guts, class and heart and kindness and kindness and kindness) (do you see where I’m going with this?) was killed off because … he was ridiculously happy.
la la la… my wife is mean, but i don’t care… she just had our son, i don’t think he’s possessed by the devil himself… i guess because i’m nice it’s time to kill me off … they said to speed and not look at the road… la la la what’s that up ahead? oh nothing… keep speeding and smiling…
So… not only did his shrew-wife survive childbirth, dammit, but she also had a son, so that meant the Abbey was secure in its lineage (or whatever the hell it’s all supposed to mean…) and of course he didn’t see the oncoming truck and well, when the car you’re driving has 5″ wheels, lacks seat belts and airbags and your wife is a class-A snobbity snob and the only reason people speak to her with any civility is because of your kindness… it’s time for you to die because. … it just is.
The supposition of course is that we viewers will take several months off and have no recollection of much of a horrible creature evil hag Mary is.
Oh… we will. This is where Tarantino steps in. Or Richard Donner, he directed “The Omen.”
Reservoir Dowgs.
The Downparted.
Damien Abbey.
That baby is possessed, I know it. And this way, Maggie Smith can reprise her famous role as Professor McGonegal (whose wardrobe shift really won’t be too much of a stretch…) and save the day and the world from the clutches of Voldebabe, Downton baby of Doom.
Oh! The possibilities are endless. Branson can take over the place and turn it into a commune; Mr. Carson can finally let out his repressed love for Thomas and we can be done with that little tease-fest; Daisy can conjure potions from eyes of rodents and other fauna to lure her Alfred to her farm and then cook for him using Mrs. Padmore’s recipes…
But yeah, if they kill off Maggie Smith, I’m out. I can’t take much more of this. Quitting Facebook is enough of a challenge, now they have to go kill Matthew?!
The Inglorious Basterds.
Thank you.
Grass Oil by Molly Field 