“Don’t look at me like that. I was over at Barbra’s the other day and she had these things on the floor and was getting ready to just step all over them–God knows what the hell she was thinking!–so I said to her, I said, ‘Barbra, have you lost your friggin’ mind entirely? You can’t just trample a perfectly good set of pearls underfoot! Not on your nice Saltillo tile! Here, give me those things, if you haven’t got any use for them. You think I can’t use a set like that, Barbra? You think I’m dripping in jewels, the way my Harvey spends money down at the track? Think for a minute, darling. Use that pretty head of yours for something besides a wig stand. I can wear those to the club luncheon next week and make Linda Pullman gnash her teeth with envy, for crying out loud. I can even wear them to Thanksgiving dinner and make Harvey’s mother fall face-first into her green bean casserole. Maybe scald the skin right off her rotten skull. I mean, these things could be put to good use. What is this waste I see before me?’ And Barbra looked at me and said, ‘Well, if you feel that strongly about it, Sheila,’ and I said, “Yes, I do! What do you think–I just open my mouth for the sake of hearing myself talk? That I form words and sentences with my lips for the sheer pleasure of speaking into the empty air? Of course I feel strongly about it.’ And then she gave them to me. She did. Aren’t they gorgeous? Harvey didn’t even notice them, but I don’t care. I’m going to have to drop-in on Barbra more often. I mean, who knows what precious things she might choose to stomp on next? I could walk in and she’ll be doing the Watusi all over a Donna Karan gown, that one. Sheesh. I tell you, I love her, but I don’t know about this world. I don’t know about people anymore. Nothing’s sacred these days. Nothing.”