Your aunt Debra is now standing before you, cellphone in hand, with an ugly look on her face. When your aunt Debra is in good mood her face isn’t a thing of beauty. You once dubbed her face: the unpleasantness. But now her face is contorted in ways that would make a Cirque du Soleil performer envious.
Cousin Matilda is standing next to her looking equally perturbed. Her face isn’t quite as hideous, but give it a few years.
“Roscoe wants to talk to you,” Your aunt Debra hisses at you.
You take the phone with trepidation as you notice a crowd gathering around you. “Hey Roscoe how’s it going?”
“Ask him if he’s been deloused yet,” your cousin Billy shouts out with a chuckle.
(Your cousin, Billy Joe Jim Bob, is one of the few family members you actually get along with. Which always surprised you a little since his parents are intolerable jackasses.)
Undeterred you continue the phone call. “What? Are you serious? This is what you used your one phone call for? Don’t worry, Uncle Finster got the marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars. I’ll tell him that you made sure he got them.”
You hand the phone back to Aunt Debra. “He had to go; they’re taking him to be deloused.”
“Yay!” Cousin Billy cheers.
Matilda hands you her phone. “Hey Rodney, how’s the leg…” You sigh in exasperation. “Yes. Uncle Finster got the marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars.”
As you hand Matilda her phone, you notice the family is now surrounding you like the creepy glowing-eyed kids in Village of the Damned.
“Why did you let your cousin Roscoe get arrested?” Uncle Gabe accuses you.
“I didn’t want Roscoe to be arrested, but the police had ideas of their own.” you try to explain.
“My poor baby is in jail now. What do have to say about that,” your aunt Debra demands.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have got him that camouflage ski mask for his birthday.”
Your aunt Debra contorts her face in a way previously not possible for a human being–her mouth was above her nose.
“And how could you let Rodney get shot?” Your uncle Gabe continues with the accusations.
“I didn’t shoot him.”
“Well who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“There was a lot tear gas, things got chaotic.”
Your aunt Debra gasps in alarm. “My baby was in tear gas?”
“I was in tear gas too,” you tell the crowd.
“Nobody cares about you,” your aunt Jackal seethes.
Things seem to be growing dire when Cousin Matilda intervenes. “Wait a minute, Rodney says that none of it was your fault.”
Your aunt Jackal grunts in dissatisfaction as the revelation seems to have abated the prospect of a potential lynching.
You’re very thankful that Rodney isn’t a blood relative and has only been married into the family for a short while. He has yet to be fully tainted by the family blood.
(The family blood is not only good for corrupting souls, but it can also be used to degrease an engine.)
The crowd around you disperses, but you can tell it’s going to be a long day.