Quicker than hell could scorch a feather,
the comadre laid out a new plan to get her man

By W. Tellme Moore?

So like kudzu, our amiguita is a beauitful nuisance, showing up hither and yon without a real invitation. Oh, how polite we are as we start to let her know she isn't quite a member of this club or that, we know kudzu doesn't grow this far south.
Crookery to cookery, our very own Marquis de Bechamel has so legitimized his chequered past and his current life with that splendid North Laredo taqueria gussied up as a venue for nouvelle cuisine.
Bedswerver, that's what I heard our literary diva call the little infidel that has caused such big and expensive problems along the North Forty.
Bois brulé. Her scorched earth policy for the ex-husband's life after theirs gave everyone a candid look at her real character. Shouldn't the poor fellow get at least some towels and bed linens? Maybe the old car?
Thank goodness that one of this set was not wearing a vanity watch but instead one you could really read. Else they would have missed Mass.
The last infirmity of noble minds is fame, or so said Milton in his elegy Lycidas of the 1637 death of his old friend Ed King. And how infirm or bent on fame our little empressaria seems to be, especially now that Don Doble Remolque is no longer flying with us.
Manita, make like John Bunyan in The Pilgrim's Progress and look one way but row another so that you can miss the impending debacle that is the ultimate deschaveteada of love gone south.
This St. Martha is a tad too devoted to her household duties, though it is reputed that when dragons need slaying, she rolls up her sleeves and goes to battle.
He is to his friends what Momus was to mythology, the God of Ridicule. Why can't our pal take a deep breath and stop being so critical of everyone around him? Remember, Momus was eventually banished from heaven.
One swallow does not a summer make, and the comadre needs to remember this when she decides whether or not to take el desgraciado back after his self-proclaimed epiphany and rehabilitation.
Where does Calamity Jane get her euphemisms? Quicker than hell can scorch a feather?
No moss on this rolling stone. When Plan A didn't gel to get her man, she segued every so swiftly to Plan B, which by the way, looks like it took.
The high cost of beads has led to a break in the tribal harmony, and if you can't hear it on the tom-toms, a cell phone will do the trick. Can you spell faction?