Priscilla Sphinx loved a good tea party. One full of biscuits and sugar and lace. The kind lost to the ever-turning years. It was all simple, really, like reciting the alphabet or blowing bubbles at sidewalk chalk.

When the guests arrived, she got out her finest dishes and silverware. The kind trimmed with flowers and porcelain. It sent those pin-pricked ladies into a blubbering wail.

“Oh Priscilla!” One delicate lady planted the back of her hand to her forehead and clutched her pearls. “You truly throw the best tea parties in the whole wide world. It puts my pink plastic to shame.”

Priscilla stifled a gloating smile. “Thank you. Would you like some tea? I had it freshly imported from India this morning.”

“Please.” A lady who strongly resembled a bear shoved the delicate one out of the way. “I would love some.”

The ladies fought for her attention, stealing biscuits and gossiping up a storm.

“I heard the prince is leaving his wife for you!” Chirped a fluffy, duck-like lady.

Another voice barreled through the noise. “I heard you’re the richest in town!”

“I heard you’re an estranged Princess!”

“Now, now.” Priscilla threw back her curled hair and batted her full eyelashes. “If I am to have everything, what will that leave for the rest of you?”

“To be your friend!”

“To admire you!”

“To drink your tea!”

Priscilla laughed and poured another cup for them all. No matter how many times she poured, the glasses always seemed to empty.

Truthfully, she had it all. The riches, the money, the tea party. It was hard to want when you already had it all. And so she danced with the other ladies, spinning until they were only a pair of breathless baubles.

The sun peaked out of the corner of the room, the same way it did in coloring books. Plushed and full of pennies, raining down on the young ladies in the colors of days lost.

“You serve the best tea!” The bear lady said once more.

“Thanks, sugar!”

“Tell me, Priscilla, can I please be just like you?”

“I’m one of a kind, ladies. I guess I was born to be great.”

All of the women giggled and sipped their little tea cups with pinkies raised. The sun set on their daisy-scented party, bringing down the waves of pink and yellow into the dazzling dark blue of the night.

Just as Priscilla tried to close her eyes, something big and red crawled up her nose. She screamed and wacked it off. A roach. The rest of the ladies cowered in fear, spilling their tea on the dry ground and sobbing into their handkerchiefs.

“Roach! Roach!” Priscilla screamed and smacked at her lace pink dress.

“Stop all that goddamn yelling and make me some tea!” A harsh, masculine voice rasped through the open window.

The startled roach slithered back into the cracked tea pot. She looked down at her dress, only to find it was grey and grimy. The wooden floors were dry.

Her guests stared back at her, unmoving and motionless, sitting in the same spots she left them. With no other choice, she went over to the sink and boiled some water in the roach-infested tea pot.