So My Beloved shows up at this little house to film the testimony of a retarded woman named Annie. Inside is a room of plastic-covered furniture, coffee table doilies, and wallpaper featuring pastoral scenes of pheasants and hunting dogs and whatnot. Four attorneys in attorney suits are crammed onto one of the plastic-covered sofas, decidedly uncomfortable and out of place, but they need to get to the bottom of this pressing legal matter, and obviously, Annie, the 40-year-old retarded woman, is the key to everything, so they forebear; they endure.
My Beloved sets up his camera, swears in the witness. They’re good to go. Annie just looks around the room as one of the suits stuck to the plastic starts to question her as if talking to a child.
“Annie, are you going to tell us the truth today?”
“Yeaaaaaaaaah.”
“Annie, are you going to tell us lies today?”
“Yeaaaaaaaaah.”
A pause.
“Annie, did you have breakfast today?”
“Yeaaaaaaaaaah.”
“Annie, did you fly in a spaceship today?”
“Yeaaaaaaaaaaah.”
Hm.
Moments later, the proceedings are terminated and four frustrated attorneys leave Annie alone with her plastic and doilies and pheasants.
Annie 4 – Suits 0
I love Annie.
The retarded woman, not the musical.
I love her too.
Spectacular. Annie FTW!!!
hmm. Annie may be onto something. I may try this method of deflecting questions.
“Annie, are you glad that the lawyers are gone?”
Marisa — Hahaha. I know. And you have to really draw out the “yeaaaaaah” just like she did. When MB told me the story, that was my favorite part — the way he imitated her “yeaaaaaah.”
NF — I have to wonder if she even knew who they were. There’s a certain genius to the mentally challenged.