I, Vernon, deem it very important to tell you this convoluted story about how I was victimized by a vindictive vamp with a vendetta since you may learn a valuable lesson. This venomous viper Velma was once my lovely valentine but one day by my own volition I suggested that we break up for the valid reason that my affections had veered towards the more voluptuous and curvaceous Valerie.

   Ah Valerie! From my vantage point she was not only a veritable vision of Venus with the unspoiled virtue of a Vestal Virgin but vivacious and convivial with no false veneer. Certainly no well-versed Ivy-league Valedictorian with a vast vocabulary, she nevertheless was quite voluble and maybe a bit too verbose on whatever she was vocalizing vapidly about. And I'll admit that at times, by her vicariously viewing various virtually valueless videos on TV with the vacant expression of a ventriloquist's dummy, it seemed she lived in a vacuum.

    Yet she had this verve that revitalized my virility and filled me with so much vim and vigor that I didn't need Viagra. She was like a Valkyrie instilling me with the valor of a Viking so I could be victorious in battle and vanquish my foes and thus evade Valhalla. She was a virtuoso in understanding my vagaries. Verily, sometimes I felt as if the dizzying vicissitudes of modern life were giving me vertigo. I even worried that since my heart valves weren't pumping right and my whole cardiovascular system seemed out of whack, I might not just vomit but need a ventilator. But there she was like a refreshing vase of violets, more invigorating than a vial full of any vitamins. It's hard to verbalize just how vital was her effervescence when I felt I was on the verge of erupting like the volcano at Mt. Vesuvius and maybe doing something foolish like taking too many Valiums or jumping off the Verrazzano Bridge or the nearest viaduct.

   Meanwhile, the volatile vixen Velma did not vacillate in vehemently vilifying Valerie as an airhead, her mind a vacuous void. This vulpine virago's vituperation became so increasingly visceral that no vulgarity was verboten. This vile vulture Velma had such a voracious appetite for vengeance that she wished to make vanish the last vestige of my beloved Valerie by throwing her into a vaporous vat of viscous vesicant. I also heard through the grapevine that she was at the vanguard of developing by testing on varmints like voles a virus even worse than VD, and for which there was no known vaccine, to inject into poor Valerie. So I felt it advisable to remain vigilant of this vainglorious villainess because as she vented more virulent vitriol and with her verbiage laced with vague Voodoo curses, it was obvious this would all eventually lead to a vicious vortex of violence.

  She then violated the law by vandalizing Valerie's Volvo van while we were vacationing at a villa in Martha's Vineyard. Not only that, this vessel of vice, traversing the verdant vegetable garden, managed to vertically vault up over the vertex of the high-voltage fence, thus risking cracking her vertebra, to get to the veranda from which she she venutured into the absent Valerie's house. From the vault in the vestibule she took many valuables. There were paintings and vignette portraits (Van Goghs, Van Dykes, and even Van Eycks) some of which once hung in the Palace of Versailles, a Stradivarius violin of rare vintage, and even a virtually priceless Victorian style Victrola. Valerie you see had previously amicably divorced a VIP, a vastly wealthy Vanderbilt. He still let her use his Visa card so she could stay in vogue with the latest Versace and Louis Vuitton and Victoria's Secret.

   Luckily, Valerie's Avon lady was in the vicinity and had decided she might as well pay a visit. From her narrow vista between the Venetian blinds, she saw a clearly visible Velma operating in a veil of secrecy. The traveling vendor then bravely called the police who sent two venerated veteran cops who came vrooming right over in their vehicle equipped with high-velocity V-8 engine run on Valvoline in order to arrest her.

  The nosy citizenry, verminous voyeurs all, voyaged from all the villages far and wide and packed the courtroom. This caused the venerable judge to get bad vibes and not desiring the trial to have a change of venue as they say in the legal vernacular, with stern visage and in a serious vein, vouched that he would not allow his courtroom to have a Vaudeville atmosphere and ordered them all to vacate the premises. There was voluminous testimony and evidence upon which the judge could weigh all the variables and voice a verdict. It just so happened that the variety store at Eleventh and Vine, where I buy Valerie her Velveeta and Vanilla wafers and various other victuals, caught everything from across the street on its video surveillance camera, thus providing visual proof of the intrusion. Velma, now feeling the law clamping down on her like a vise and vying valiantly for her freedom, proceeded with the utmost vanity to varnish the truth utilizing her vivid imagination to create verisimilitude. I, being very emotional and not a Vulcan like Spock, started spilling my guts, volunteering irrelevant information. I confessed that I had once played my Van Halen vinyl records in my room at vexingly high volume while strumming along on my Flying V guitar directly above my dad Vito, a Vangelis fan, and my mom Vicki, a fan of Bobby Vinton of Blue Velvet fame. Then feeling vulnerable, not sure if I had committed a merely venial or terribly venal sin upon my folks, I summoned my old friend, a teammate from my junior varsity volleyball team, the virtuous vicar Victor, he of the vibrant varicolored velour vestments, whereupon he lit a votive candle for me at vespers at the Vatican and said I was vindicated. The judge said "Hey! Enough! Can we please get back to the case of Vernon and Valerie versus Velma!" Since in the end he found our versions matching almost verbatim with practically no variation to be more veracious and verifiable vis-a-vis hers, our efforts were not in vain and Velma realized she was now vincible. Although he considered having her provide community service helping vagrants and vagabonds, he felt a more viable alternative was to order her to vamoose back to her hometown in Vladivostok where they make mostly vodka but also some vermouth.

IN OTHER DEVELOPMENTS IN THE NEWS WHILE THAT STORY WAS GOING ON:

  The versatile Vivian Vance of I Love Lucy fame, vaunted in her new vocations, will first perform a live vivisection of a vampire bat at the Veterinary School at the University of Vermont then down the road at the VFW hall will accompany jazz vocalist Sarah Vaughan on the vibraphone.

  By canvassing for the coveted vaquero vote down in the valleys while being driven around by his valet via Volkswagen, the VP (vice-president) of Venezuela was voted into the vacant President's chair and was widely viewed on VHF Channel Twelve flashing the V for victory sign while sporting a visor on his head that read 'vox populi' vowing to use his veto power against legislation adverse to them while they shouted VIVA!

  Instead of searching vainly for his Viceroy cigarettes (so named by Reynolds since vassal, vizier, and viscount didn't have the right ring) Superman utilized his X-ray vision and VOILA! found them behind the vermilion colored valance no doubt hidden there by the lovely yet devious Vicki Vale.

  Vegans who will eat no veal or venison claiming they cause varicose veins for which you will want vanishing cream, picketed outside the local Vinny Testa's until they added a special vichyssoise soup to the menu to go with the vermicelli with oil and vinegar.

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