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Gloria Fisher

Abbott House Guest Accused Of Digging For Fool's Gold

October 12, 2004
by Brent Kellogg

Has she hugged a priest lately? Run from a scary homosexual person? Cooed over a copy of Bride's magazine? Fallen on her knees and thanked God Almighty that her daughter isn't yet gay or pagan or libertarian and if she is that's okay because it's nothing some good lithium and talks with Damon Porter can't cure?

Is that why Ashley Carlton was at her pretend father's home this week calling him "daddy" and shoving closed-hearted, regressive notions of love down his throat?

Openly terrified that Gloria Fisher has galloped into the Abbott family on sequined horseback Carlton told old man John 'Yawn' Abbott that he better not be sleeping with old glossy rubber lips. Doing so would be a huge mistake. Think what might happen if the old geezer were to fall in love with his live-in house guest. Why, he doesn't know anything about Fisher much the way she didn't know much about any of the men she's married.

Good lord, for all Yawn knows Gloria might already be planning a non-traditional wedding with incense and kinky sex. There'd be children weeping in the streets if that happened, neglected and confused and reading all seven required Walnut Grove Academy books backwards. Oh the horror. Daddy is having sex with a "mystery" woman.

It's the Carlton neoconservative creed. Invent a bogus threat, inject black smears of fear, hint that something church approved and family friendly is in danger and if we don't stand up to the Big Bad Evil, society as we know it will crumble.

"You have serious problems of your own," the old timer sneered, telling the bitch to mind her own business and promptly getting out of her sight before he vomited into the puddle of her foul smelling bile.

Perhaps thinking what next she might do to protect marriage - which apparently means lots of bad sex and rampant loathing, coupled with her agreement to endure yet another decade of unhappy marriage with someone she might not love anymore and who is verbally abusive and just plain depressing as hell - Carlton's thoughts were interrupted when Fisher entered the room looking for the maid to serve breakfast.

Outraged that someone else might be taking advantage of the sitter next door who raises her daughter, takes the kid to school, to the movies and out for sugar fixes, Carlton threw a fit. Eyes blinking rapidly, she asked by what gall Fisher was enjoying herself? How dare she take advantage of an old man who hadn't had sex in years until she came along? Did Fisher have any idea how threatened she felt considering how hard the Abbott's had to work to seize power and wealth?

Trying to get a word in edgewise Fisher reminded the bitch she was a guest and as such intended to reap what few benefits if afforded. Then, like calling out her dead baby's name, Carlton puked, "I don't like you! You're just a gold digger out to get what you can get."

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately given she doesn't know Carlton's past, Fisher did not fire back, "Such talk for a sperm-stealing, marriage-breaking, baby-killing home wrecker."

Here is Ashley Carlton, pounding her tiny fists, hyping up the need for a dramatic, preemptive strike against Gloria Fisher because Fisher is without a doubt right this minute developing super-evil plans to defraud the old man and take possession of the triple mortgaged Abbott home and the ten-year-old Abbott Cadillac.

"I'll be watching you," she howled into a vacuum, stirring the hate cauldron and hopefully not thinking about hiring a private detective to investigate Fisher.

Abbott Gives Sweetheart the $1 Tour

Satan Comes Through In a Pinch
August 24, 2004

Ain't it great living in Genoa City? The land of opportunity. Give us your humble masses and old women in need. Just ask Gloria Fisher. A woman of no means, who owns one dress and probably shoplifts cheap perfume to spray in her crotch, Fisher was told last week to get out of the apartment she's been squatting at with her two sons when she was caught entertaining a local gigolo in the spare bedroom.

Packed Tuesday and ready for the return to Detroit, Fisher caught a taxi to the airport and along the way stopped by the home of semi-wealthy John 'Yawn' Abbott for a final farewell and to tell the marked man that life had given her a sack of lemons and that while she had made lemonade from them it surely sucked.

"Life is funny. When you think you have it all figured out you get thrown a curved ball," she said, her usual bubbly persona simmering like road tar in the hot August sun.

"Why so glum, chum?" the unsuspecting old man asked in so many words, at a loss as to why Gloria wasn't as happy as he was the day he met her.

Never one to let a glob of patronization pass her by, and since the taxi meter was running, the old woman told Abbott what a "very special man" he is and was about to say that she had been run out of town on a rail when Abbott cut her off to say that he had been thinking about her since their last date.

But the geezer's thoughts weren't so much about the nice meal they never ate, not how being in the same room with a woman sends electrical currents to his groin for the first time years, but of how living with two disrespectful, arrogant sons must be causing so much stress in her life! Subsequently, Abbott said he had decided it was time to place a woman he knows nothing about right smack dab in the center of the Abbott fortune.

"I want you to come live here as my guest," he said, adding that it all made perfect sense given how Fisher herself had said the Abbott Hotel is too big for a man's adult son - who has never owned his own home - and another squatter, PainMe Johnson, the black millionaire former maid with nothing better to do but live with a pack of white trash, even though Fisher had never before set foot in the place.

Presuming she'd have a room of her home and assured that Abbott wouldn't try to sneak in late at night for some hanky panky like Johnson used to do, Fisher was aghast.

"What? You mean little 'ole me? Live here among the stars?" Fisher did not exactly say, but quickly asserted that it just so happened she could move in right away as her bags were outside in the taxi.

Then, looking the wrong way, Fisher cranked her head upward and while throwing a kiss, thanked Satan for coming through for her again.

Like Mother, Like Son
August 16, 2004

She doesn't have a pot to pee in but that didn't stop gold digger Gloria Fisher this week from shelling out big bucks for two role players to act as her sons. At $50 a pop two men from the Rent-A-Son Agency came in person to Michael Baldwin's apartment on Monday complete with contracts, collected $100 each for two hours of service up front and were prepared to service Gloria on the sofa or in the bedroom until she advised them she hadn't hired gigolos but rather actors to impress the impressionable and very rich old man, John 'Yawn' Abbott.

Earlier, noticing again that his mother is acting much like Sharon Newman, Kevin Fisher asked his Ma why she was acting so weird as if her demeanor hasn't always been weird. Gloria was so caught up in her ploy to trap Abbott she had to tell somebody. If Kevin could keep a secret she'd tell him why she's so strange.

Kevin swore his mother's secret was safe with him so Gloria sprung it. She's having dinner with the geezer tonight at the Abbott home and so is Kevin!

Forgetting that Gloria hadn't already told him about the dinner, Kevin was taken completely by surprise and again told his mother that Abbott hates him. Furthermore, if the old man finds out that he's her son, Gloria can say goodbye to Abbott and his fortune.

Gloria waved Kevin off without further explanation except to say that she had things "covered" and for Kevin to go play in the street. Like a fool, that's what Kevin did. He didn't, not even for a moment, think it odd that Ma would say that he would be tagging along on her dinner date and then tell him to go away.

Without calling first to see if his pal Daniel Romalotti was home, Kevin hitchhiked all the way to the Newman ponderosa and was fortunate to find Daniel squared away in his new digs.

Apparently unaware that Kevin doesn't own a car, Daniel couldn't imagine, considering they've been working together on a secret plot to overthrow the government - or something, why Kevin had driven so far.

Noting that the bus doesn't go to faraway places like the Ponderosa, Kevin said, "I hitchhiked" and thereby instantly caused some consternation as to how people like Cameron Kirsten and Disgrace Turner get to the ranch without vehicles unless they too hitchhike or how Cassie Newman travels back and forth when her entire family is home or at work.

Daniel may have tucked that bit of information away in his small mind so as not to get caught beaming back and forth to the city when his mother isn't around to drive him. Either that, or he'll have to get to know the Newman slave or stable boys.

And what had Kevin come so far to talk about when he might have called given that Phyllis Abbott's new phone number is posted in all the toilets? What's up with their plan to, um, what is the plan? Take that snarly Neil Winters down a peg or two? Seems as good as any since Daniel has a vested interest in doing Kevin's dirty work.

As a matter of fact, Daniel said he's been working hard on their plan. Been interviewing people and everything. So what's taking so long, Kevin asked, demanding that something happen instantly. Daniel told Kevin to chill. He, a sixteen year old, has more expertise in getting even than the seasoned and older Kevin. Gotta take things slow. People seeking revenge moving too fast often make mistakes.

And again, fool that he is, Kevin did not ask, "Who are these people you're interviewing? Why are you telling anyone about our plan? Don't you know that nobody in this godforsaken city can keep a secret?"

"And please, Daniel. Don't tell me that you and I are going to become the next Matt Clark and Larry Wartman. I wasn't around when those two ganged up to have Nick Newman charged with selling drugs out of the Jitter Joint so that Clark could have Sharon Newman as his dream girl, but I've heard how that masterful plan failed because too many people found out what was going on," Kevin did not say.

But maybe Kevin should have said these things as even before it's begun this newest terrorist threat has become laughable. Like mother, like son.

July 30, 2004
Ewww! Botox-grade Beaver Offered Used Sticky Swimsuit
Just what turns on women like Gloria Fisher? Used swimsuits! Considering that the gold-digging Genoa City newbie thinks nothing of flashing her beaver at young boys, it must be true.

It could also explain why old man John Abbott had no qualms this week when his son suggested that he and the hot in more ways than one Fisher go for a swim in the Abbott pool.

What? Gloria didn't come prepared? The old geezer didn't plan ahead like Newman employee Miguel Rodriguez did Friday when the slave purchased a brand new swim suit for Abby Carlton's visit to the Ponderosa?

It wasn't a problem. Jack Abbott said they keep lots of swimsuits in the pool house. Perhaps amongst the suits left behind by the oily Jabot Glow Kids from summers of yesteryear Gloria could find one not crawling with crabs or smelling like a rank synthetic mixture of pine cones and road tar and Raid Ant & Roach Killer, the scent of which will likely remind John of something Jill Abbott might've worn that night when Jack did the horizontal hoochie with his former wife.

No Opportunity Left Unturned
June 17, 2004

Listen up! You will forget that the reason Kevin Fisher escaped from the psycho ward at the God Have Mercy Medical Center and jumped bail because just the thought of going to jail made him crazy. So put that out of your mind. If you don't you may develop painful warts.

Surrendering to police this week after threatening cops with and discharging what was probably an unlicensed weapon and committing a laundry list of other crimes Fisher was released into his brother's custody as the primary charge against him was dropped.

Just when it appeared Fisher would make a clean getaway so to speak, damn, but what Michael Baldwin didn't announce that little brother will have to surrender to police when they return to Genoa City!

And damn but what Fisher didn't balk. He didn't throw a fit because Baldwin said not to worry. Like all the other times Kevin has been in custody Baldwin has a plan; an ace up his sleeve to keep brother out of jail. Kevin is cool. He'll just swagger into Genoa City like nothing happened. If the status quo is upset in the slightest he'll just have Mama Fisher sing him a lullaby. That's the plan now that Baldwin has agreed to let Gloria Fisher move into his tiny apartment. If nothing else Baldwin can use Gloria to scare away all those people who just drop by unannounced.

Gosh, they'll even try to be like a family. Isn't that sweet? Rich is more like it. But don't expect Ma to cook. She doesn't cook. And she won't be arriving right away. Once the boys get settled in, say in about two weeks, she'll blow in. Then, two weeks later she'll blow out. So what's the point in going to Genoa City if she's only going to be there two weeks?

It's a dodge, Clyde.

Gloria is a scammer. What? You couldn't take one look at that face and not tell? Gloria is a user. She's used up all the good men in Detroit so now it's on to Genoa City where men are always in need of a woman. Unless, of course, your name is PainMe Johnson or Sierra Hoffman.

Gloria plans to have her well-connected son hook her up with the movers and shakers. There's Victor Newman who all women in Genoa City seem to get sooner or later. Imagine that relationship? If Gloria is into younger meat there's the eager to sow his wild oats J.T. Hellstrom.

So, then, do all these tingling occurrences line up just right and is there some overarching strategy at play and is the massive overwhelming calamitous whole greater than the sum of its creepy parts? Is Gloria Fisher going to spin off her own series? Almost invariably the answer is, well, no. Or, rather, maybe. But, then again, no. But isn't it fun to imagine?