"Do you remember Gladys Gillespie of Sow Creek, Idaho?" she asked.
I don't suppose you know Gladys Gillespie of Sow Creek, Idaho do you?
It's a famous author named Miss Gladys Turnbull.
Gladys Turnbull wasn't just fat, she was immense.
As the Deans entered the hall Gladys Turnbull was waddling up the stairs.
I'll bet it's a collect call for Gladys Turnbull from the planet Draghow!
If that was Gladys Turnbull's alarm clock, I hope she gets it fixed.
There followed a cheery "good morning" from the late-sleeping Gladys Turnbull.
Gladys was dressed in a tiny skirt that made her look like a cheerleader for the Slim Fast "before" team.
All the time she was eating, Gladys prattled on about her magnificent dreams of the snow-covered landscape of faraway planets and the lustful urges of their alien inhabitants.
Edith Shipton sat nearby, long finished with her meal, oblivious to Gladys' tales.
As soon as Dean was alone with Gladys, between her second and third helping of Cynthia's pancakes, he broached the subject of the annoying alarm.
Gladys must have thought most of the world was deaf as she was quite surprised when Dean politely scolded her.
Gladys Turnbull was pounding away on a lap top computer in a corner of the parlor while young Martha and Donnie played a game of Old Maid on the sofa.
Left with nothing else to do, Dean turned to Gladys Turnbull, more out of inn-keeper politeness than a desire to engage this strange woman in lengthy conversation.
Donnie viewed the encounter with mild curiosity while Gladys remained in her chair, pudgy legs elevated, looking totally petrified.
Gladys had taken over as docent of the domain.
I'm Gladys Turnbull the author, and this is Donnie who can't speak, and Martha who lives in town.
Far off in the distance, Dean could again hear the ringing of Gladys Turnbull's alarm but he paid it no attention.
Dean never even heard Gladys Turnbull's muffled alarm clock.
Even Gladys Turnbull's alarm must have been muffled enough not to disturb his slumber.
The three north-side second floor rooms contained Fred, Gladys Turnbull and a pretty female climber named Penny.
Dean bit his lip, assuming the little woman was about to complain about Gladys Turnbull's late night writing, but she had other concerns.
Edith, Effie, Claire and Gladys remained in their rooms.
Amid a banging door and stomping feet, Gladys Turnbull entered the kitchen.
Cynthia rose, and after a whispered conversation, Gladys left and Cynthia returned, a smile on her face.
"Gladys says they really got along great," Cynthia said, with a smile.
"I fear for that woman," Cynthia said as Edith squeezed by the descending elephantine shape of Gladys Turnbull.
She's playing 'let's pretend' even more seriously than Gladys and her alarm clock rendezvous.
Gladys, bedecked in an orange caftan and a fox fur jacket, smiled a knowing smile to Cynthia and was gone.
"Sounds like Gladys didn't get lucky," Dean mumbled.
Finally, he thought he felt a breeze and quietly rose to see if giggly Gladys and her tipsy admirer might have left the front door ajar.
Gladys and her lover?
But Gladys' friend is another problem.
We charge Gladys for a double room and smile.
Cynthia had preceded him and stood outside Gladys Trumbull's door.
"I'll get him," Gladys mumbled.
"I will," Gladys answered with a sneer that was almost scary.
Neither Gladys nor Edith emerged from their quarters.
All of the guests, excepting Gladys and Edith, had vacated the inn by the time the Deans finished the morning chores.
Go in there and keep Gladys company.
Instead, he steered the conversation toward Gladys Turnbull, who was the only other occupant of the cozy room.
Edith stared straight ahead, looking as zonked as Gladys was well on her way to becoming.
Cynthia began to quietly cry out of sheer frustration while Gladys Turnbull snored loudly.
Dean sat a while longer, amid night sounds, the ticking clock, and the muffled ringing of Gladys Turnbull's alarm.
Gladys waddled down, her jaw set like a drill Sergeant, looking as if she'd like to spit in Jerome's coffee.
Gladys is happy as hell about Shipton's swan dive.
I'm not sure Claire Quincy isn't just as pleased as Gladys.
There's the boy's father, Ryland, Gladys Turnbull, Claire Quincy....
He heard Gladys' muffled alarm at least twice, and someone rummaging around the kitchen, all well before the light gave a hint of welcoming Sunday.
Gladys Turnbull was sleeping late, as usual.
Gladys Turnbull, wrapped in a scarlet robe, stuck her head in the room.
Gladys paused by the door.
Gladys smiled some more.
Don't forget Gladys Turnbull was registered, too, even though I think she stayed in her room.
Gladys, because I saw the venom in her eyes after Shipton took advantage of her.
Can you picture Gladys sneaking anywhere?
They've talked with Ryland, Gladys, Edith and even Janet.
Miracle of miracles, Gladys is awake and it ain't even noon yet.
He'd even have a shot at Gladys' and Edith's rooms.
Somehow, considering Gladys, Effie or Claire seemed to stretch common sense more than an overweight bungee jumper.
Did you just swipe it from Gladys?
Gladys and Edith are both upstairs, the Quincys are at the library and young Donnie and his dad are still out someplace.
"Edith's version is as far-out fiction as some of Gladys Turnbull's stuff," Fred said like the learned professor.
Gladys waddled downstairs, strung in more beads than the draped back room doorway of a Turkish dope den.
Even Sheriff Jake Weller was there, and the city police chief and, in various costumes of night-wear, Fred, the Quincy sisters and Gladys Turnbull who'd let out a banshee scream that woke everyone but poor Edith Shipton, who'd never wake again.
Gladys Turnbull was the only visible guest.
Gladys just smiled and munched, and munched.
Gladys Turnbull, almost forgotten in the corner, spoke up for the first time.
So she—" Gladys read from her notes, "...stepped up on the velvet chair, tightens the silken cord about her neck, and closed her eyes...."
Dean rose and began to leave the room, disgusted that Gladys Turnbull would trivialize Edith Shipton's death in fiction, even before the shattered woman was cold in the ground.
That was a human being they hauled out of here, Gladys.
"That was rather forward," Gladys said, "with your wife out of town and all."
Dean asked Fred, after Gladys left the room and they were alone.
Nope. I was there right off the bat, right behind screaming Gladys.
That's more of a stretch than trying to fit Gladys Turnbull in Annie's white dress.
Gladys Turnbull remained Bird Song's sole paying guest, at least for a couple of days longer.
The hesitant visitor was Gladys Turnbull's "publisher" from New Mexico.
But Gladys was delighted and after a night, ostensibly in adjoining rooms, the pair were off, with giggles and tears and a proud pronouncement that Arlen had agreed to present all seven volumes of Belfair and her galactic cohorts to the waiting world of letters—in paperback form.
Was he Dorvad the lazy mate as Gladys so fictionalized him?
Me standing there half naked, Gladys screaming her fool head off, Edith's body hanging in the middle of the room....
Elderly Gladys has stepped into the limelight to announce that she was the Psychic Tipster but she has seen God and will no longer practice the devil's work as she calls it.
While I dared not say it for fear of being accused of insensitivity, I wondered if the death of Gladys Gillespie might enhance her credibility, reducing the number of those chasing the real Psychic Tipster.
Dean allowed Gladys to devour a platoon-size breakfast while he delayed bringing up the awkward question of the late-night alarm.
Gladys was contrite, promising to "not take sleeping pills" so she would wake more quickly.
Gladys Turnbull was walking the town, trying to glean inspiration from the towering mountains to better describe some celestial landscape.
Instead, she was greeted by shrieks from Martha and Gladys, causing her to drop the poor creature and flee in terror, stark contrast to her anticipated moment of glory.
Effie has hardly left Boston, Claire answered while Effie and Gladys continued to become soul mates of the supernatural, blabbering away in the corner.
The other guests were nowhere aboutâ€”the children off playing hide and seek, Edith still closed in her room and Gladys dreaming of far off galaxies.
Dean picked up Gladys's chatter in mid-conversation.
Then there were voices, Gladys with a shrill laugh, than hushed giggling, a stumble on the steps, a grunt and finally silence.
His first thought was Gladys' would-be lover having second thoughts and making a quick exit so he ducked around the corner of the dining room, so as not to embarrass the man.
I had to ball that fat cow Gladys to get in here and then pay a hell of a premium to those guys just to get a room of my own.
It didn't last long as it was within Gladys' frequent reach.
Cynthia cast her eyes downward while Gladys glared at Jerome with unfettered hatred, looking as if she wished she had a giant icicle to do her research here and now.
Late-sleeping Gladys Turnbull was still dreaming of the vengeance of the inhabitants of Zzz.
Gladys Turnbull, all smiles, was frantically taking notes.
True, but playing the devil's advocate, I have some problems with Gladys.
Effie the realist, Claire, her head in self-made dreams of a pretend ancestor, as make-believe as Gladys Turnbull's creatures from Draghow and Zzz.
So sheâ€”" Gladys read from her notes, "...stepped up on the velvet chair, tightens the silken cord about her neck, and closed her eyes...."
Gladys flitted back and forth, like a moth in a lamp shop, alternating with Dean for the hall phone, apparently conversing with an editor who was expressing interest in the lurid tales of Belfair of Draghow and her sexual mischief about the stars.
With only Gladys on board, that left eight rentable rooms, one wrapped in yellow tape, and a winter heating bill on the office desk.
But Gladys was delighted and after a night, ostensibly in adjoining rooms, the pair were off, with giggles and tears and a proud pronouncement that Arlen had agreed to present all seven volumes of Belfair and her galactic cohorts to the waiting world of lettersâ€”in paperback form.
And Alison Kift was just daffy enough as flirtatious secretary Gladys.
desecration of the grave of Gladys Hammond in Yoxall.
The move followed " fresh information " received by the team investigating the desecration of Gladys Hammond's grave.
Special memories of a great nana, Gladys Lilian who passed away 2 years ago today.
Gladys is a bold, vintage-inspired look with a frame that offers strong curves and a contrasting inlay.
Phyllis Diller - The commedienne made several appearances as Gladys Pope from 1995 to 2004.
The word usage examples above have been gathered from various sources to reflect current and historial usage. They do not represent the opinions of YourDictionary.com.