The Belmonts

Okay So This Is The Belmonts So Far As I Can Tell:
Some Indeterminate Amount Of Time Maybe In The Forties But Probably In The Fifties, A Huge Land Development Deal Was To Go Down In Some Underdeveloped Portion Of Utah. Well, The Development Company Which Had Won The Contract Sent Out A Surveyor To... Well Survey The Land. He Was To Stay At The Mansion Of The Current Proprietors Of Said Land, An Illustrious Family Of The Surname Belmont. The Surveyor Taxied In Along A Undeveloped Mountain Pass Along Those Crimson Ridges Of Utah. Rising Like A Nightmare Out Of The Ocean Of Tall Grass In A Sun Drenched Valley Meadow, The Brooding Hulk Of A House Looms Like A Shipwreck. Castle Belmont.
At The Door, No Lurch, Just Large Gaping Barn-like Doors, Demented American Gothic Front Porch, Complete With A Giant Old Rocking Chair Made From What Appeared To Be Planks Of Salvaged Casket Wood Rocking Ominously In The Porch Shade. After Debating As To Conitinue Or Not, The Love Of The Almighty Dollar Urged The Surveyor Inside Of The Massive Front Doors.
The Anteroom Of The Massive Victorian Castle Was Not So Filthy And Abandoned As One Might Have Initially Speculated From The Nearly Delapodated And Certainly Condemned Appearance Of The Outside. The Unexpected And Obviously Expensive Rugs Were Given No Prelude By The Peeled Remainder Of Colorless House Paint. The Giant Antiquated Animal Bone Chandelier That Bore No Cobwebs But Still Had The Muted Essence Of Something In A Photograph Taken Of A Haunted House At The Turn Of The Century Shown Eerie Light Down Upon Antique Buffets And End Tables Covered With Black And White Portraits Of Long Dead People In Very Expensive Looking Wrought Iron And Porceline Frames. In Spite Of Its Ghost House Appearence The Inside Of The Mansion Is Immaculately And Almost Obsessively Clean. The Walls Are Covered In An Ancient But Unpeeling Wallpaper Of Derby Horses. The Entire Interior Of The Massive Foyer Looked As Though Frozen In The Thick Tar Time, As It Might Have Looked When It Was Brand New, 50 Or 60 Years Ago.
Coming Out Of The Entrance Room A Wooden Staircase, Covered In Another Ancient And Incredibly Expensive Rug, Ascended Up To The Third Floor Of The House Without Parlaying For The Second Story. Nor Was The Third Floor The Top Floor. Although No Entrance To The Top Level Was Visible, It Was Clear From The Outside That The House Was Of At Least Four Stories. At The End Of The Hand Rail A Small Circular End Table Sat Bare, Except For A Very Ancient Looking Piece Of Parchment, Possibly Even Papyrus.
The Surveyor Unfolded The Parchment, And Read The Painstakingly Well Written Text. The Letter Was Adressed To Someone The Surveyor Did Not Know, Someone With A Very Strange Name.
Polygamist,
Thank You For Coming On Such Short Notice. Oh, We Cannot Thank You Enough. Your Kindness And Understanding In The Face Of Such Dire Circumstances Is Of Such Help To Us. Yes Of Course. The Boys And Us Thank You Dearly. Dont We Boys? Please Make Yourself At Home. Oh Yes Dear Please Do. The Suite At The Top Of The Staircase On Level Three Has Been Made Up For You, Dear. We Look Forward To Seeing You This Evening At Supper, Until Then If You Need Anything Feel Free To Get It For Yourself. Oh Yes, Of Course, Please Do.
This Schizophrenic Note Was Signed At The Bottom In A Leaking Fountain Pen:
Auntie & Auntie Belmont.
What A Strange Turn Of Events! Another Fellow, And Possibly His Multiple Wives, Was To Stay Here The Very Night The Surveyor Came On Business. Maybe He Was Already Upstairs Getting Ready For Supper? The Surveyor Promptly Went Upstairs To The Suite On The Third Floor, Only Glancing At The Amalgam Of Ancient Portraits That Obscured Half Of The Wall To The Left Of The Staircase. In His Room Fresh Opium Poppies Stood In A Bone China Vase, On A Giant Oak Dresser Infront Of A Large Mirror. But The First Thing The Surveyors Eyes Restlessly Fixated Upon Was The Long Opium Pipe And Giant Blonde Rock It Had Been Layed On Top Of To The Left Of The Bone China Vase. The Surveyor Had Recently Kicked A Particularly Bad Opium Habit When His Wife Threatened To Leave Him And Take The Children With Her. After Shrugging Morpheus Off Of His Back For The Sake Of His Family, The Surveyor Discovered That His Wife Had Been Copulating With His Bastard Brother. Instead Of Killing The Both Of Them, The Surveyor Took The Hint And Began Smoking Opium Again. But For The Sake Of His Occupation He Kept It Fairly Casual, Always Remembering To Shave And Bathe. But With That Giant Afghan Nightmare Supporting The Gun In Which That Entire Brick Of Bullets Would Be Loaded And Then Put To The Brain Of The Poor Helpless Surveyor, Casualty Went The Way Of The Wind. His Relationship To Morpheus Has Once Again Gone Formal.
After Getting Locked Into This Demented Train Of Though, The Surveyors Eyes Are Drawn Finally To The Volumptuous Boquet Of Giant Opium Poppies In The Thin Translucent Porceline Vase With Another Folded Piece Of Ancient Parchment. This Letter Was Much Shorter And Much Sharper Tongued Than The Last:
Polygamist,
We Heard Through The Foxhole That You Have A Lustful Affinity For Morpheus' Roses. Teehee. We Hope That This Will Suffice Until Dinner. Dont Smoke It All In One Time Or Space. Ha Ha Haw.
Love And Respect, Tee Hee,
Auntie & Auntie Belmont
Well, Whatever Strange Habits This Polygamist Fellow Might Have, Him And The Surveyor Shared At Least This: The Lust For Morpheus' Roses. Hopefully He Wouldnt Be At Pains To Share Some Of This Boulder With A Fellow Junkie. For The Sake Of Neighborlyness, Commonality. A Twinge Of Jealousy At Those Words. Neighbor? Where Was The Surveyor To Stay? Where Were His Sharp Tongued Memos, And Rocks Of Delicious Opium. Surely The Property Development Company That The Surveyor Worked For Hadnt Given The Belmont Family The Impression That Someone Of That Nature Would Be Coming To Stay With Them And Survey Their Land For Sale And Development. While He May Not Be Executive, The Surveyor Certainly Holds A Lot Of Weight At That Company. They All Know Him, They All Love Him, If They Caught Wind Of His Occasional Weekend Opium Binges They Would All Disown Him. How Could These Old Broads Know Of These Things. No, There Must Be Another Man Expected By The Name "Polygamist". What Kind Of Name Is That Exactly? Before Finishing This Train Of Thought It Donned On The Surveyor That He Had Already Polished Off The Chip Of Opium He Had Subconsiously Liberated From The Rock And Inhaled From The Long Glass Pipe.