World-renowned ventriloquist Dayton Feathers and his wisecracking dummy, Missie, seem to be heading for a split.

And it’s making the Las Vegas Divorce Court somewhat unhinged. “Seriously,” said a court spokesman, “how does this even work? We’re talking about a sixty-year-old man and a piece of wood. Okay, I’ll admit Missie is a real babe, I mean, she’s 3’2” and wears tight clothes but, uh, she’s made out of wood.”

Judge Lars Crater called the legal debate, “Surreal but settleable.”

In her filing, “Missie” Feathers accused her ventriloquist of “demeaning actions and sexist questions” occurring during their act as well as “unwanted sexual advances” and his habit of “sticking his hand up my ass during the shows.”

Dayton Feathers


In court, facing Missie sitting silently across the room, Dayton Feathers accused the dummy of “low-rent trash talk that comes from her background as an oak branch. Oak trees suck. Those are the trees that have those tiny leaves that clog your rain gutters and those falling acorns that attract squirrels. And they carry disease! They’re not even good shade trees. The bitch!”

Clad in a fetching crocheted mini-dress that left little to the imagination, Missie Feathers remained silent.

The Judge called for her to answer testimony. Dayton Feathers nodded, retrieved the dummy, placed her on his lap and reached up into her innards to control her. Missie fluttered to life.

“Do you see, your honor? Do you see where his hand is?” she said. She then recounted that she met Feathers when he was thirty-five and she was a branch. “He was sexually frustrated,” she explained. “At the time, he didn’t know how to approach a woman. But he had this talent, a talent that wasn’t satisfied by his sock-puppet act. Frankly, it was probably because they were so stained. As I mentioned, he was frustrated.”

Missie Feathers


“He carved me into the image of the girl he always wanted.” The puppet looked at her body. “I mean, seriously, look at my breasts. If I were a real woman I’d be crawling around on all fours from the weight of them.”

Feathers seemed embarrassed, but answered. “You look perfect to me.”

She paused, smiling “Oh, you. You always were the flatterer.”

Upon cross-examination, Feathers admitted that the two shared a suite at the “Replicas of Countries You’re Too Poor To Visit Casino/Hotel” in Vegas.

“Would you consider yourself a couple?” the judge asked.

“She’s like a part of me,” Feathers admitted. “But, if she wants out? She wants out. I could always use more kindling.”

Missie opened her mouth, revealing a silk lining within. “Let’s see kindling satisfy him like this does. See how soft and smooth it is?”

Feathers squirmed in his seat.

Missie On The Witness Stand


The judge noted that Missie had called witnesses: Jerry Mahoney, Knucklehead Smiff, Charlie McCarthy, Beany and Cecil and Mortimer Snerd. None had shown up to back her claims.

“See?” Feathers smirked at the judge. “See how no one is here to support her? Why do you think that is?”

“Because they’re puppets,” she countered. “And all their partners are dead.”

Feathers gulped as Missie looked up at him. “What are you think you’re going to do once I’m gone? You have nothing without me. You’ll be broke. You’ll die. Think about that.”

“I’d rather die with dignity,” Feathers began.

“You’ll die living in a cardboard box with a stray cat.” Missie countered.

“You always had a foul mouth!”

“Only for you!” Missie exclaimed as Feathers lifted her into an embrace and a long, passionate kiss.

By the end of the court hearing, Judge Crater agreed to marry the two. As it turned out, Feathers had been carrying around a wedding ring for six years but was too bashful to place it on Missie’s finger.

The judge was pleased: “I now pronounce you partners for life or until a termite infestation.”

Said Missie: “And we’ve agreed to expand our sexual horizons. I’m going to have a silken pocket placed both in my wazoo and my haw-haw. We’ll be together for life…or until the time I’m attacked by beetles.”

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