Post by @Storyreadingape.
Source: Monday Funnies…
Post by @Storyreadingape.
Source: Monday Funnies…
Aunt Essie got her nose out of joint when her little guys came home bringing tales of how badly Uncle Bill had treated them, so he didn’t hear from her till she fell on hard times a couple of years later. She had married her own fella named Bill by that time, strangely enough. This Bill was an affable enough guy, though he must not have taken time to meet the boys before they married. He’d also been married before and “wadn’ payin’ no child support to that whore of a woman after the way she done me. Besides that oldest ‘un never did look anthing like me, ner that little one neither, if you git right down to it.”
The long and short of it was, they needed to get the heck out of Dodge or her sweetie would have gone to jail. Like any landed gentleman of the South, Daddy had always maintained he’d provide a place for any of his sisters who fell on hard times. She magnanimously forgave Daddy. Over Mother’s furious objections, he set up a mobile home on their farm for Aunt Essie and her family. The situation went downhill fast. Aunt Essie wore her slippers to check the mail and slid down. She asked Daddy for the name of a good lawyer so she could sue. He told her she’d have to move if she sued him, so she changed her mind. Her Bill had a heart attack within a month of the time they moved there. He never worked another day, leaving them penniless until his social security kicked in. Guess who supported them.
All that aside, they had the added joy of daily life with Corwin. Corwin quickly dropped out of school, a reasonable decision, since the only thing he was getting out of it was a bus ride and two free meals a day. When he got suspended for harassing little girls, it was a relief to everyone in the system. Bill and Aunt Essie went somewhere in Aunt Essie’s car one day. Wisely, Bill took his keys, knowing Corwin would certainly take off in his truck the minute he left. One of Daddy’s horses had died three or four days before. As farmers do, instead of burying it, he hitched the dead horse to his tractor and dragged it as far to the back of his place as he could, leaving it to the varmints. Corwin had been puzzling over whether or not the varmints had gotten to the horse carcass yet. Corwin showed some industry in hot-wiring the pick-up, but not in driving in the muddy fields. He got stuck and had to leave the truck buried up to the hubs next to the bloated horse. Bill was livid when he came in and found his truck missing. “Where in the Hell is my G—D—- Truck?”
“Stuck in the mud on the back of Uncle Bill’s place.”
“What in the Hell is it doing back there?”
“I drove it back there to see if see if that dead horse was stinkin’ yet.”
“Well, what in the Hell were you gonna’ do about it if it was?”
Not too long after this, Corwin and Kelvin were found to be growing a lucrative crop of marijuana on Daddy’s place. It was a good time for the family to leave.
In my family of “Mixed Nuts” Cousin Corwin was the winner, hands down. When he was about twelve, he and his twin Kelvin got in a little “dust up” with the police, so it seemed like a good time to get out of town. Aunt Essie called Daddy, asking if the twins could come spend a few days. Now if the image “twins” brings to mind thoughts of “barefoot boys with cheeks of tan,” think again. Kelvin to all intents and purposes, could have passed for normal, but Corwin was nuts. At five foot eight and two hundred and sixty pounds, he was physically intimidating. His pale blue eyes blazed with madness. He ripped through a fried chicken like a chain saw. Mother had to double the amount she normally cooked the minute he arrived.
Aunt Essie’s call for relief was well-timed. Mother and Daddy were just about to leave on a much-anticipated vacation. Though Mother could only hear Daddy’s end of the conversation, it was clear he was assuring Aunt Essie “taking the boys will be no problem. I’ll straighten them out. We’ll come get them as soon as we get back. They can stay as long as they want. They’ll always have a home with us.” He hung up, turning to Mother. She was murderous! Like any right thinking human with twelve years’ experience with Corwin, she despised him. She’d spent most of those years defending her girls from his attacks.
“Are you crazy? I don’t want that maniac out here! He is not coming!”
“Yes, he is! I’ve already told Essie we’ll come get them as soon as we get back from vacation. I’m going to bring those boys out here, put ‘em to work and straighten ‘em out. There’s not a kid in the world I can’t conquer!”
“You can’t straighten them out. You deserve what you get! Go get them whenever you want to. We’re not going on vacation!”
Conceding that point, Daddy left, returning several hours later returning with two sullen, hostile boys. Since neither Mother nor the girls had anything to say to him either, it was a quiet house except for chicken bones crunching when Corwin ate. Corwin was exhausted after his big supper and brush with the police so Mother showed him to his bed right after supper. As soon as she cleaned up the kitchen, she went on to bed, leaving Daddy up by himself. He was horrified to find Corwin in his bed when he got ready to turn in. He went to find Mother. She bunked in with the girls, partly to protect them.
“Corwin’s in my bed!” Daddy roared.
“Yep. You may as well go ahead and get started straightening him out tonight.” She turned over, the bed shaking with her giggling. Daddy knew when he was whipped.
He got up, blasting the boys out of bed the next morning about six. They were sullen, rubbing their eyes. He was full of false cheer, enjoying the prospect of teaching them to work, turning them into productive humans. They dragged away from the table, out into the dawn’s early light. They were back at noon, to eat and rest in the heat of the day. The boys were unhappy. I don’t think their morning had gone well. Daddy was trying to force a good mood on everybody. After an hour and a half’s rest, he had them back at it. They ate, bathed, and fell in bed that night. The next morning, he had to drag them out of bed, openly hostile. They took potshots at him at breakfasts before he dragged them off. By noon, things clearly had heated up.
By the fifth day, Daddy was sick of them, but stuck in the nightmare he’d created. He had alienated everybody. In one camp, Mother and the girls hated him. In the other, he was spending his vacation trying “straighten out” two juvenile delinquents who openly despised him and made his life a misery on every turn. It was a challenge having to having work like a dog trying to teach them to work when he’d planned to be on vacation.
There was no escaping the nightmare as he spent his nights with the corpulent, malodorous, psychopathic Corwin, snuggled up against him. One morning Daddy got up to find he had no clean underwear in his drawer. While he was searching, the putrid scent of feces drifted from the general area of his closet. He investigated, finding that Corwin had suffered digestive issues, soiled his dainties and concealed them deep in Daddy’s closet, rather than admit to his weak sphincter. Exhausting his underwear wardrobe, he’d helped himself to Daddy’s, which he also soiled and concealed. Daddy had had enough. He made Corwin take the whole disgusting pile outdoors and wash it. Corwin found he didn’t care for washing aged crap out of his (and Daddy’s) drawers, retching the whole time. He felt Daddy ought to wash out his own, even though Corwin had crapped them all and was doubly insulted when Daddy insisted he scoop up the piles of poop and haul the filthy wash water far from the house to dump it. He would have had absolutely no problem leaving the slimy, stinking mess lying on the ground next to the faucet. To everyone’s relief, Corwin called Aunt Essie, begging to go home. That saga had ended with Daddy finding a kid he couldn’t conquer.
To be continued
words, glorious words...
Retired, not expired: words from the after(work)life - with occasional music
Fishing - hunting and all countryside arts and crafts
--- ALOZADE a. the artist Show you these artistic creations and ideas. Especially in digital painting. ---- L'artiste ALOZADE a. vous propose ces créations et ses idées artistiques. Surtout en peinture digitale.
Relationships reveal our hearts.
There are three ways to ultimate success: The first way is to be kind. The second way is to be kind. The third way is to be kind. - Mr. Fred Rogers
The humor and humanity of storytelling.
We share 50% of our DNA with bananas