Blanche: I was at my funeral at 16. I saw the whole thing.
Dorothy: What?
Blanche: Sixteen was a very difficult age for me. My hormones were racing, my body was blossoming. I had urges and yearnings so strong. Sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night, just sweating and screaming and clawing, like a trapped panther. Unable to release the lusty, steamy passions that constantly threatened to erupt from within me.
Dorothy: When I was 16, I had acne and played the accordion in a marching band.
Blanche: Well, nothing seemed to go right that year. But the final indignity occurred during the Miss Magnolia Blossom Pageant. Instead of doing the right thing and awarding me the crown as the most beautiful girl in the county, they made me runner-up. And awarded me Miss Congeniality instead. At that moment, I vowed to make that town pay for valuing my personality over my perfect body.
Dorothy: I hear that Vanna White has the same problem.
Blanche: So I decided to kill myself to teach that town a lesson. I phonied-up my death in a riverboat accident. I had the captain, who I was secretly seeing after school, help me with the details. Everything went perfectly. Oh, the town had never seen a funeral like mine. Hundreds of people, beautiful eulogies. And then, just as the minister was getting everybody in a frenzy of grieving, I rushed out and said, "Yoo-hoo. It's me, Blanche. I'm not really dead." Well, the next thing I knew, my daddy was horse-whipping that riverboat captain and dragging me off to a religious girls' school in Atlanta. My daddy didn't get angry, but once you did, he was a real peckerwood.