Abby Carlton - News Archives - 2005
See also: Ashley Carlton  Brad Carlton

Slap a Condom on Abby Carlton!

November 30, 2005
by Brent Kellogg

And then you hear the one about the 7-year-old girl out collecting donations for victims of AIDS and scratching your head you mutter, "Oh, that's nice. A little girl doing something patriot. Something for the American people who need sex so badly they'll do it with Sharon Newman."

Then you hear the child could give a flying fig about AIDS in America. What she's doing is collecting for the victims in Africa! Not only that, the girl is none other than Genoa City's very own Abby Carlton! Only five in real time, you must ask who in the hell allowed this kid to so much as speak the word AIDS? Why oh why are kids in this city always rushed to adulthood? Why would a little girl collect money for something she knows nothing about? Selling Girl Scout cookies, okay. But AIDS?

Has Ashley Carlton sat this kid down and explained what AIDS is? Would Ashley even want her precious child to know of such matters? Is Ashley proud of what Abby is doing? You bet Ashley's baby-killing ass she is. She said as much this week at the Athletic Club as Abby was prying money out of her biological father. A father Ashley didn't want her kid spending Thanksgiving with - or much else for that matter - but when it comes to money the first person they hit on is old money bags himself.

How low will Ashley sink is the real question. Sure, Abby's just a kid. She's got no clue. Her teachers at school put her up to it themselves probably were put up to it by one of those ultra-dour black-robed cardinals who never see daylight or the modern world or love, espousing the official Vatican line, claiming that condoms do not, in fact, prevent the transmission of the AIDS virus.

"Some of those kids even have AIDS," Abby muttered, of the poor blacks in Africa when she couldn't find Africa on a map if her puberty depended on it. And lightning, shockingly, did not strike her pasty sanctimonious butt dead on the spot. But as it's been said, Abby is but a kid being used - and abused - and led to believe at an early age about the evil AIDS and what a fine public service she's performing and maybe she'll win an award for AIDS awareness.

So what's next? We can only wonder. How long until Abby is spewing that AIDS is one more reason the church doesn't advocate condom use? How long until the claim is made that the AIDS virus is 450 times smaller than sperm and can therefore pass through the latex barrier and spread disease and kill you and her mother should know? When will Abby say that condoms are deadly and should not be used. By anyone. At any time. Ever. When will she promote promiscuity, too, only to have Ashley laugh and maybe say, "Now Abby. If it weren't for screwing around and stealing sperm I wouldn't have you"?

Why should you care what Abby is doing? You shouldn't, really. Her insidious ignorance wouldn't matter in the slightest, and would, in fact, be merely cute and totally dismissible, were it not for the fact that the Vatican is instructing its priests all over the world, including those in AIDS-ravaged countries in Africa and Asia, to condemn condom use.

"Thank you Victor, thank you. Abby will remember your kindness and think of all those black savages you'll be helping," Ashley did not say, but you know should have because until people learn about safe sex AIDS will never go away.

But it's not really about AIDS at all. It's about being a do-gooder. See? Ain't Abby just the cutest thing you ever did see? Slap a can in her hand and send her out collecting money for something that should she have the slightest idea what it was she'd scream and holler and ask Ashley, "What's freaking wrong with you? I'm just a kid. It's too early for me to be sleeping with daddy #1."

Here the church and the Bush Administration are restricting doctors from talking about condoms in poor nations, here they are prohibiting AIDS-testing centers from handing out condoms to those most at risk of the deadly disease, here they are as Africa is being ravaged by a killer virus and what is Abby doing? Collecting money for AIDS?

What a crock!

This is nothing new. Ashley and her ilk really, really loathe condoms. And homosexuals. And anything that might inhibit procreation, or that in any way empowers people to take control over their reproduction options, or that might somehow loosen the church's viselike grip so long as they aren't required to conform too. We dare you Ashley. Sit Abby down and tell her. How many times have you been married? How many men have you slept with and not just those at a time you were married? Have you no shame? Have you sunk so low as to let a small child collect money for AIDS? Why aren't you right now at Abby's school demanding, screaming, throwing one of your fits, asking why any teacher or school board would broach the topic of AIDS when Abby's just a second grader? For Christ's sake, Ashley. We know you're disgusting, but this? You are one sick puppy. But go ahead, Ashley. Smile. Pat Abby on the head and tell her what a good thing she's doing for mankind. Tell her that when's she knocked up at fourteen and asks where babies come from, you hypocritical bitch. No, wait! You do not warrant being called a bitch. You are lower than that, Ashley. You are a disgrace to motherhood and the human race.

The Blame Game for Kids

November 15, 2005
by Brent Kellogg

New rule: Rich kids in Genoa City must stop bitching about wanting to be a family again. Little runts like Abby Carlton must learn they've got to play the cards their irresponsible parents dealt them. Crabby Abby must also learn to stop parroting other spoiled kids before her. Nate Hastings was first on the block to whine how he wanted a family and his mantra was driven into the ground by Cassie Newman who, 'til her dying day, couldn't shut the hell up about wanting to be a family again. These brats had their chance.

Abby's had her chance to play family and squandered it. Why wasn't she yelping when her parents kept her locked in a playpen? Why didn't she protest when Brad and Ashley Carlton pawned her off onto the sitter? Why didn't she seize the opportunity to spend time with Victor Newman? He is, her biological father. She spent time after kindergarten with the great man each day at the Wreck Center. She had an endless supply of clay and crayons and coloring books and was free to mingle with drug dealers, so what's her beef?

Why is Abby playing the blame game? Why is she accusing her half-sister of breaking up her mother's marriage? That's what she implied Tuesday when she said Brad's arriving late to her birthday party was Victoria Newman's fault. That Brad wasn't there early didn't prevent the little creep from opening all those expensive presents from her imaginary friends. Instead of yapping about something she cannot possibly understand, as evidenced by her claim that because Victoria came to the party with Brad that it was therefore her fault Brad was late, Abby should be grateful she's got a family - albeit dysfunctional - at all. Some kids are lucky to have one parent. Some kids don't have families. Abby could have asked Devon Hamilton about that instead of making horsies for Victor at the Wreck Center.

Not that Victoria is helping the situation, it's Ashley whom Abby should be blaming. It's Ashley who's been committing adultery all these months. It's Ashley who stole a man's sperm so that Abby could be alive today. Not that Abby would care about that little detail. She gladly accepted a belated gift from Tom Fisher, a man she knows only as someone her mother has been sucking around.

"All I want is for us to be a family again," says Abby, and you wanna just smack her across the face and wash her mouth out with soap and then show her Ashley's atrocious record only there's no forklift available for which to haul the volumes and volumes of Ashley's history. The long list of marriages, the dead babies, the medical problems, the pills, the voodoo, the skunk oil, the betrayals, the back stabbings and hatred.

Just stop it, Abby. Stop saying you want a family. She's no prize, but you got a mother. You got two fathers. You got family. If someone must be blamed, blame yourself. Blame Phyllis Summers. Blame anyone but Victoria. She's a lot of things, but she's not a home wrecker. Not yet.

Age Before Beauty

November 15, 2005
by Brent Kellogg

It's come to my attention that there's a great deal of confusion about Abby Carlton's age. In a city where kids like Nick Newman go away to a Swiss Alps boarding school at age twelve only to return six months later aged sixteen, where Nate Hastings watched in awe as his cousin Lily went from being a baby to a teenager when he was born years before her yet never aged, is it any surprise nobody knows for sure how old Abby is?

For the record, Abby was born in 2000 thanks to sperm her mother stole from Victor Newman. Five years have passed and still Ashley Carlton refuses to allow Abby to carry the Newman name which Ashley must surely know will advance Abby in her adulthood to far greater expectations than the name Carlton. The name Carlton is synonymous with pool cleaning, hedge clipping and men who shave their chest hair. It's hardly a name any kid, or adult for that matter, would want.

Awhile back the GCN reported, "Somewhere along the line Abby Carlton turned seven. Quite a feat for a child born November 13, 2000. Is it not? Stunning, considering that on March 29, 2004, the kid was three. It was the same day Abby contracted a case of Rapid Aging Disease and turned six. It was the same day Abby herself told everyone she was six as she awaited a sugar fix at the posh Athletic Supporter Club while being escorted by her half-sister and former cousin, Colleen Carlton and where club manager Gina Roma continued her policy held over from the burned out RoadKill Cafe of feeding the town children ice cream, chocolate pudding, cake, cookies and other sugar-laden swill potent enough to rot the teeth of jigsaws."

For the better part of the last half of this year Ashley repeatedly said Abby is seven. When she accused Michael Baldwin a few weeks ago of not protecting Abby, she made a point of noting Abby's age. Seven. Not 5 like Abby's age is supposed to be, not six as Abby has told others, seven.

So when Ashley said announced last week there was a birthday bash planned for Abby, some of us here at the GCN assumed Abby was turning eight. Apparently, that was incorrect as Abby's birthday cake only had seven candles on it. So why, all this time, has Ashley been saying Abby's seven? It must be that even she doesn't know. Not a real shocker given that Ashley has killed two of her babies. The one she aborted, and the other unborn baby she carried in her belly for nearly a year when she crashed her SUV.

Maybe Ashley meant to say all those times that Abby's turning seven. But even this is strange given that most normal women keep precise track of their kid's age. Ask any woman with a rug rat how old the kid is and you'll get something like "18 months". Not a year and a half. Eighteen months.

At any rate, whether Abby is seven or eight it doesn't matter. Both ages are wrong. Abby is five. She'll be six on November 13, 2006. That is, unless like most trust fund kids in Genoa City, Abby gets sent away to a boarding school.

November 8, 2005

5-year-old Turns Eight

Born November 13, 2000, it was announced Tuesday that trust fund baby Abby Carlton will celebrate this week her eighth birthday. The rebirth of sorts is quite an accomplishment given that on March 29, 2004, Abby turned 3 and in early 2005, turned 7.

Like too many Genoa City babies, Abby isn't expected to be very happy on what should be the joyous of days for children her age. Her parents estranged and preparing for divorce, Abby says she wishes Daddy #1 Brad Carlton and Mommy Ashley could put aside their differences long enough to celebrate her birth "like when we were a family". Unfortunately in a city where hatred always trumps goodness, Abby will split the big day between parents.

A party will be thrown in her honor at what is expected to be the popular Jitter Joint. Arranged entirely by Ashley, it wasn't immediately known whether daddy #2, Abby's biological father, Victor Newman was invited. Ashley made no mention of the man whose sperm she stole so that Abby could be spawned.

Despite that the launch of Newman Enterprises' newest line of cosmetics falls on the same day, Brad promised he'll do his best not to miss Abby's special day and give her a big doll.

"I wish I could be there when you give it to her. It's going to be hard for Abby to wake up ... and not have us both there," Ashley noted, as if she already knew that Brad will ruin Abby's birthday and at the same time give her another reason to hate him.

As for telling Abby that her parents are officially calling their marriage a failure, Brad suggested they wait for a more opportune time as if any time is a good time to tell a kid its parents are so pathetic they can't hold a marriage together.

While they were on the subject again, and since she had been the first to demand a divorce, Ashley put her best spin on the situation by asking Brad why now. Why, when she's sucking around Paul Williams and going out on dates with other men, would Brad be wanting a divorce? Was it so he can date Victoria Newman, his daughter's half-sister?

When their argument began heating up, Brad and Ashley agreed not to argue and bitch that she is, Ashley rubbed Brad's nose in the fact that now, more than ever, they are enemies and wished him good luck.

The Golden Rule

October 13, 2005
by Brent Kellogg

I understand that in the recent daze I've been prefacing paragraphs and sentences with the word "why" more than a few times. I comprehend how fruitless it is questioning anything the elite residents of Genoa City say and do, yet I can't help it. I wonder about these things. I ask myself why Brad and Ashley Carlton are so damn lazy they can't get off their collective ass and take their daughter to school? How freaking hard could it be? Why must a 6-year-old girl going on 7 be given chauffer service?

How many reading this report did not ride the bus to school when they were in the first grade? Sure, Mommy or Daddy or maybe both took little Margie to school on the first day, but after that wasn't it all bus rides? Wasn't it so that if the kid wasn't fragile or a sissy said kid even walked - both ways?

So why then must Abby Carlton be taken to school every damn day of the week? Why must someone be hired to change this kid's underwear? Why must that person traipse all over town to wherever Abby is tied up to accomplish the goal? Why, on school days, doesn't whoever have charge of Abby eat breakfast at home then rush her out the door to catch the bus? Why did the Carlton's sitter have to be called over to the Athletic Club this week to pick Abby up there?

Rather than suspect that her new sister doesn't like her much, why can't the perceptive Abby question why her father and mother don't live together anymore and haven't obtained a legal divorce? Could it be that if Victor Newman knew his biological daughter was being raised in a broken home environment he'd slap a custody suit on Brad and Ash so fast it would make their empty heads spin? Didn't Victor once say it's always the children who suffer most from relationships that his own daughter is right now in and that it's not fair to the children?

Could it be that Abby is now the pawn in Brad and Ashley's little jealousy game? They can't stand each other so they use Abby as a wedge. What's that? Brad and Ashley both swore they'd never let anything come between them? Ah, that was so 2004. This is now. This is Brad after his own daughter's half-sister. This is Ashley after any man who'll have her and so far she's scraping the sludge off the bottom of the barrel as only Tom Fisher has shown an interest in her. That's not counting Paul Williams who'd sleep with a dead cow if the wind was blowing just right.

Oh, there's Ashley now with her brother, Jack Abbott. She's all bent because Brad is seeing Victoria Newman when what should really piss her off is the incestuous smell of the affair in that Brad has said repeatedly he's Abby's father "in all the ways that matter." There's Abby too, picking up on her mother's vibes as a nice waitress brings her crayons to scribble with at the table while other, less fortunate kids, must do their playing in the ritzy AC daycare center. While Jack and Ashley talk about what Abby thinks or doesn't think about seeing daddy Brad with her half-sister so often as though Abby is still two, which, come to think of it she should be, they decide to find out by taking her over to say hello to Brad and Victoria who just happen to be eating nearby.

What is Abby's reaction? Why, she wants to go horseback riding with Victoria. Wants to get on Starfire's back again when she told Victor she never wanted to ride that naughty horse ever again. Says she's ready now. Says "Victor" told her it's like "riding a bike" although no one has ever seen Abby on a bike and if she had one would still be using training wheels.

Like most spoiled brats Abby gets uptight when Victoria hesitates. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree where this kid is concerned. Sister Victoria is a busy business woman trying to rush toxic chemicals to market. The last thing she wants is a kid underfoot. Still, Victoria says she'll think about it. Maybe some other time. This doesn't set well with Abby. "She acts like she doesn't like me," says Abby, wondering if Victoria is really her sister after all.

But enough of that. It's time for Abby's ride to school where rich kids like herself learn the Golden Rule: he who has the gold makes the rules. The sitter has been standing by all this time twiddling her thumbs and waiting and maybe, like me, wondering why Brad or Ashley or Jack couldn't do the job.

I Am Not My Brother's Wife
October 5, 2005

All lukewarm and hollow enough to make you cringe and wonder why it was again you were watching this bizarre overblown spectacle, this daytime drama unfolding in Genoa City, oh yes, that's right, for the bizarre overblown spectacle, is the long delayed meeting between Victoria Newman and Abby Carlton the later of whom is really a Newman but they gave her the name Carlton so you might forget what a sperm-stealing bitch Ashley Carlton is.

You gotta wonder about this, don't you? You gotta ask why it's taken so long for Abby to meet her sister. Aren't the Newmans this cute, Christian-like family so tight it was once written that outsiders could not own stock in the family business? Aren't the Newmans always going around telling everyone how they are Newmans and that there's no tragedy or crisis they can't overcome? And why did six-year-old Abby have to be the one to take the initiative to introduce herself?

When Victoria returned from Italy in April wasn't a homecoming party thrown for her? One was thrown for Scotty Grainger within a week of his return and he only came from Canada. Scotty's party was such a hit it was suggested it be an annual event. So why didn't the Newmans, close that they are, get together? Why wasn't Abby trotted out and shown off as Victor's newest bastard child and it explained again why Abby doesn't live with the Newmans?

Why, all this time, wouldn't a brother like Nick Newman is, have mentioned to his sister, "Have you heard? We've got a new sister" and Victoria maybe not ask, "Who is it this time?" Wasn't Victoria all excited about having a new brother in Victor Newman Jr.? How is it that these professing family values people can so easily overlook members of their own family?

Is it rhetorical? Is it suffice to say the Newmans were maybe waiting to see if Victoria would start sucking around Brad Carlton and then spring Abby on her? Was that the plan? Or is it quite by accident that six months later Victoria is only learning she has a sister?

But this is the question that matters: now that Victoria knows Abby is her sister, that Abby's "daddy" is Brad's daughter, that Abby's mommy is her former stepmother, will Victoria stop gyrating spontaneously like a love goddess on ecstasy? Will she get that incestuous affairs in this city are frowned upon and a little too racy for even the Doritos n' Bud Light crowd?

Will knowing her beau is a married man with a child of his own and more ex-wives than she can shake a stick at wake Victoria up? Will she ever understand that, despite all the bare midriffs and push-up bras and sexy talk, she is not a sexual person or even sociable or all that friendly? Will Victoria retract from Brad like an air tanker withdraws from a refueling mission? Will she accept that pretending to be a CEO hell-bent on business megastardom would better serve her image even though she's not remotely qualified?

Probably not. For whatever reason the elite in Genoa City thrive on incest, sex with minor children, mothers without husbands, married men and women plotting murder. It's the utter shamelessness that makes this worthy of our attention, the completely spiritless determination to inundate the world with nothingness that makes Victoria such the ideal example for exactly what's wrong with this town.

Yes, we want to hope Victoria will see the error of her ways, but we know better than count on it. Much like her blatant ignorance, much like a Sheila Carter who doesn't even pretend to conceal her true draconian motives, Victoria, with her power and sex drive will keep flaunting her antisocial lifestyle. Slap, slap right in your face. There, don't you feel better? Don't you wish someday women like Victoria and her sister-in-law get so desperate they sleep with their brothers and fathers? Oh wait, at least three of them already has, or tried, or would have. One of them was Victoria herself who would not have cared had Cole Howard turned out to be her brother.

Angels Don't Bring Dead Things to Life

August 16, 2005
by Brent Kellogg

Two days after reading Todd Brown's Viewpoint I couldn't shake the point he made about Kevin Fisher. Here's a freak who tried to kill old man John Abbott's granddaughter, burned Gina Roma's "life" to the ground, and both victims go around town these days as if none of that happened. Gina allows Kevin to frequent the gym/restaurant she manages and John, as others have, has forgiven Kevin's trespass against Colleen Carlton.

It might be that John had no choice since it's said Kevin saved his life following the old geezer's fall down a flight of stairs, breaking his hip and puncturing himself with a letter opener. But what's Gina's excuse? Is there some policy where she works that says she can't discriminate? Did her boss warn at the time of hiring that Kevin was fully expected to start hanging at the Athletic Club and would have full membership privileges and spend such large amounts of cash that banning Kevin as an undesirable would have an adverse financial impact on the club?

It's been asked before, but who, exactly, is Gina's boss? Who runs this all-things to all people club and why does he/she never come around to check up on the place? Who is this person who established that patrons must be members but allows anyone to use the facilities membership or not? Who set the rule that total strangers without recommendation or sponsorship from long-term members may open charge accounts? Why, with the advent of credit cards, does this club have charge accounts at all when most people have VISA or Master Cards on which to charge the junk they buy?

Could Kevin's new celebrity status be thanks that he has limited access to his brother's lottery winnings? Or that his brother is the famous lawyer Michael Baldwin or that Kevin became a "changed" man after a few sessions with a shrink?

But what really disturbs me, what really has me questioning my own sanity again this week, is this infatuation with the hereafter the elite in Genoa City has and now it's affected five-year-old, or is she 20, Abby Carlton.

Taking swimming lessons at the all-purpose Athletic Club's "Swim Camp" Abby took time out this fine day to ask her mother, "Are you thinking about work?" Because it's so typical of kids to ask questions like this sperm thief baby-killing bitch Ashley Carlton said she'd never think about work on such a nice day and wondered why Abby was not at her lesson. Having noticed a fragile student had skinned her knee, the instructor called a time out to render first-aid and during this period Abby overheard the big kids talking about the Daniel Romalotti trial.

Since talking about some kid they hardly knew, except that Daniel was out of class more than he was in, the trial is what all kids are talking about on summer break.

For a kid who knew her mother might be thinking about work Abby had to ask her mother what a trial is and why were those kids saying bad things about Daniel and oh, mommy, is Daniel that boy who stayed at Grandpa Abbott's hotel for a day or two?

Ashley tried to shine Abby's questions on, but Abby was determined. Did Daniel hurt Cassie on purpose? Why do people get hurt? Ashley praised Abby for being such a considerate "angel" which gave Abby an idea. If only she could be an angel she'd make Cassie come back to life!

Despite that Ashley had said earlier how Cassie's death "made me see how fleeting life is" and that it was Cassie's death and not her brush with breast cancer that first made her see this fleeting, Ashley, unaware she'd be ripped to verbal shreds if the Newman's heard her dissing angels, told Abby angels can't bring the dead back to life.

The Omen

June 17, 2005

During those times when it all seems to line up with one of those weird phases when everyone seems to be getting hit by something tragic or sad or somehow ridiculously painful certainly almost everyone feels the pain. Friends and family and loved ones all seeming to suffer in unspeakable ways unimaginable most truly explain why, on a dark and stormy night in Genoa City, Ashley Carlton would opt to drive her daughter all the way to the Newman Ponderosa.

Against a backdrop of horse manure Abby Carlton had to make daddy Victor Newman feel better. She knew with the recent loss of his granddaughter the great man whose sperm gave her life would be down in the dumps. Arriving in one piece Abby first had to pay respects to the horse she swore never to ride again. She'd fallen off Starfire once and wasn't about to let it happen again. Still, because she's just that kind of six year old, Abby, closely supervised by the Newman slave, gave the horse a treat and Cassie Newman's horse got one too.

It wasn't immediately known whether Abby and the horses had discussed the price of oats or other problems known to commonly, um, nag at the equine species. That humans can communicate with horses and vice-versa is an established phenomena in Genoa City. Following the phenomenal encounter Abby found Victor. She whipped out what appeared to be a handmade arts and crafts piece undoubtedly constructed during her many after school trips to the Newman Wreck Center. Thought to resemble a Kola bear, Abby told Victor that not only did the bear have a heart inside it just like Cassie did, the bear was named Cassie too!

Because something in you knows. Something in you senses there is more at play right now than mere depressing coincidence, you might have wondered if this might be an omen.

Given that Ashley is whoring around again, given that Brad Carlton fully approves of his wife dating other men while they are still legally married and is pursuing an incestuous relationship with his adopted daughter's half-sister, considering Abby wants a real family she can call her own, what better time for Victor to strike than when the iron is hot? What better opportunity to replace the little girl he so deeply misses with an almost identical replica?

Do you feel it? Is there a custody battle brewing? 

Small Fry Learns French from Photos as Mom Gives Up Men

March 1, 2005

Fully expecting to be showered with gifts made in France, Abby Carlton wasn't very excited on Tuesday to learn that her mother had brought from Paris the essence of flowers or that essence is used to make toxic cancer-causing chemicals people spray on their bodies. Abby wanted more. What else had Mommy brought home for her?

Presuming Abby would be sleeping in her own bed this night and not at her grandfather's house, and with bedtime so close, Ashley Carlton told the little tyke that if she went up to bed she'd find a book. Not just any book but one written in French. Sort of. This book - the same as French kids use to learn the French language - was all pictures!

How a book without words could possibly help a seven-year-old learn a language was beyond comprehension. Regardless, Abby thought this was just the greatest thing since learning to mold horses out of clay at the Newman Wreck Center, said she thought it "cool", then toddled off to fetch the book.

What it being Abby's bedtime had to do with the price of Jabot stock was apparently more mind numbing drug induced dialog designed to distract spin from reality. As Abby trotted off Ashley asked her estranged husband how his personal life was going since she last saw him three days ago. Brad Carlton took this to mean she wanted to know if he's been porking other women during those rare times when he's not within spitting distance of Ashley, hanging out with her at the Abbott Hotel, or if maybe Ashley was suggesting Olivia Winters had been by a few times to grease his pole while she had been gone. Brad answered the question with a question: what about Ashley? Did she by any chance get some man to have sex with her while she was in Paris like the time she'd gone away on the Love Boat? Ashley implied three days hadn't been long enough to trap a man. Even if it had it wouldn't matter as she'd lost all interest in men and may never want one between her hairy legs again.

Given that Ashley may give up men raises the suggestion that she's really a man. This is the scuttlebutt, the rumor that once spread like wildfire along Internet bulletin boards and chat rooms. What normal woman gives up men? It's not like Ashley is going to become a nun or celibate. Is there a woman in her future? What's she going to do with all that pent-up sexual energy? Is she going to swear off sex as something deadly and to be avoided completely if not somehow surgically eradicated? The last thing this woman, or man, or whatever needs is to start lashing out at those having sex as something prurient and sticky as demonic heathen sluts are known to do.

Whichever Comes First

January 6, 2004
by Brent Kellogg

Is this how it is with the wealthy? Do they have so much money stashed away they can sit by as the source of that wealth goes up in flames? As the money tree shrivels and dies from aggressive pruning can they afford to become despondent to the point of such laziness they can't be bothered to call in an arborist? Can the man who planted the tree, watched it grow and provided the forbidden fruits that gave his family everything their little hearts desired just take the day off from harvesting the remains to go play with his new bride?

Is this how it is with the Abbott family? Is this how Brad and Ashley Carlton, despite the gloom and doom around them and the worries that Jabot Cosmetics will at long last go belly up, can be so carefree? Is this why at such a crucial time in their lives the Carlton's first priority is to see that their seven-year-old daughter get to her ballet lesson on time on a school day?

That's right. Somewhere along the line Abby Carlton turned seven. Quite a feat for a child born November 13, 2000. Is it not? Stunning, considering that on March 29, 2004, the kid was three. It was the same day Abby contracted a case of Rapid Aging Disease (RAD) and turned six. It was the same day Abby herself told everyone she was six as she awaited a sugar fix at the posh Athletic Supporter Club while being escorted by her half-sister and former cousin, Colleen Carlton and where club manager Gina Roma continued her policy held over from the burned out RoadKill Cafe of feeding the town children ice cream, chocolate pudding, cake, cookies and other sugar-laden swill potent enough to rot the teeth of jigsaws.

Because Abby attends ballet the Carltons apparently keep her ballet shoes at the Abbott home where her mother Ashley has taken up squatting at her surrogate father's home following the expulsion from her own home where Abby's shoes should be kept. Thus explained why adoptive father Brad Carlton raced Thursday to the home to fetch said shoes and supposedly to find out why his wife was meeting again clandestinely with the man she really loves, Victor Newman.

How Carlton knew his estranged wife was meeting with Newman could not be ascertained, but he knew enough to tell former colleague Jack Abbott of the meeting and that he was going to find out what was going on. But as Abby searched her room away from home for the shoes the best information Carlton could pry out Ashley Carlton was that she - like so many other business persons in this city - was working from home preparing for a meeting.

She also found time to peruse Abby's school records and lo, but what was first-grader Abby doing attending language immersion class?

"Her teacher is recommending it," Mr. Carlton beamed, taking it for granted that a child who has attended one week at the Victor Newman Wreck Center School of Hard Knocks and Clay Horses named Starfire are thereby gifted and should be prepared at an early age, given Abby's RAD syndrome, to enter "an Ivy League college" knowing more than one language.

Concerned that a child just turned four chronologically might become overworked and stressed like her mommy, Ashley objected at first but quickly flicked off any notion that a child Abby's age should learn first how to spell before taking on Japanese or Swahili.

And so it is with the rich in Genoa City. They bitch, moan, run away from their problems, fall in and out of mental institutions, have severe nightmares, love those they can't be with and sit ideally by as their money trees die. But when it comes to their kids no expense is spared on getting them the best education money can buy even if it means attending night school at Genoa City University.

Nothing is too good except when it comes to the kids knowing and bonding with their biological parents. Then by God there will be all out screaming, sickening and fiery war. But no birthday parties for seven year olds. No giant gatherings at the Carlton home like the one last week for kewpie doll Colleen who, for all her parents vast riches, will at best attend lowly New York University if and when she feels like it. Maybe in the Fall or until Colleen has told a few hundred more people how she got to graduate early from high school. Whichever comes first.