Through the passing of the year aught six of our last, great century, tragedy struck a small town. Debra Finn was the beauty of six counties. She was the joy of her mother's springtime and the hearth that warmed her father's winter.
What floods and droughts, dastardly success and familial betrayal could not do, one evening of excited teenage revelry accomplished without remorse. While the details are scattered and sparse, it is remembered that jealousy rode in that night in the passenger seat of a cherry red Skylark convertible.
A storm of blonde hair, a tiara of vicious lightning, and brass knuckles over fish-netted evening gloves told a story of blood, bone and startling femininity. The town was undone. Debra lay slain; forgotten and lost. The Great Debutante Brawl of Aught Six cost us, forever, a greater jewel than ever was pulled from the ground.
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