A little Pre-story, backstory

When my mom was little, she dreamed about playing the piano. Buuuuuuut, her parents couldn’t afford lessons. I think we all know where this one is going. To compensate for her childhood, my mom made the decision that my sister and I were going to be AMAZING pianists. So, she signed us up for lessons, that we took from a truly horrible, batshit crazy lady (but thats a story for another day). We took these lessons for about 8 years before I gave up. The truth is, 1. I DESPISED playing the piano & 2. I have zero, and I mean ZERO musical talent and truly, wholeheartedly sucked straight booty cheeks.

Anywayssss

It was summer, and a piano lessons day. Normally our piano lessons were on Thursdays and my mom would bring us, but this week we had to do them on a Tuesday. Which just happened to be one of the days that my aunt watched us. Wow, really adding crap on top of crap for this one. Piano lessons & my aunt? The pure horror.

My Aunt pulled us out of bed early AF that morning. Why? Because piano lessons were at 9, and we were walking. Now, piano lessons were across town, and it would take us over an hour to walk there. Also, Marge and I insisted that, no, piano lessons were always at 2, never 9 A.M. But, my aunt assured us that they had changed that day.

I dragged my feet the whole way there. It was early. I hated piano. I hated my aunt. I absolutely did not want to walk all the way there.

By the time we got to piano lessons it was 9:30 & my aunt was furious. Obviously, it was little Elizabeth’s fault, and her shitty attitude. She stormed us up to the door, and guess what? The door was locked. I know, a real shocker. Piano lessons were at 2, not 9, we were correct. Of course it wasn’t my aunts fault. It was ours, we had misinformed her and she somehow convinced herself that she had said that the lessons were at 2, but we said they were at 9. Now that’s truly frustrating.

So, we started the trudge back home. This time we were taking the long way, as punishment. And boy, oh boy, were we ever hungry. We pleaded and insisted that we stop for food. Giving in, my aunt made a pit stop at Burger King. I was no happy camper about this one, I hated Burger King, its just NASTYYYY.

Anyways, what did my aunt order?? One, singular, pack of french toast sticks to split between the three of us, because we had food at home we could eat. There was only 6. Now, one might think that would leave 2 french toast sticks a piece. Well, you’re wrong. 6 split evenly between three is actually, one for me, one for Marge, and a good, solid, 4 for my Aunt. She also wouldn’t share the syrup because we didn’t need all that sugar.

We munched on these and continued our walk home. Now what happened when a little kid munched on a sugar coated french toast stick? They get thirsty, especially when walking copious miles and haven’t had any water all damn day.

Begrudgingly, my aunt stopped at a convenient store, where she let me get an apple juice. The only thing, I wasn’t allowed to drink it until we got home because otherwise i would spill, or leave the wrapper in the street, or something of the sorts.

We got home. I set my apple juice on the counter. I scurried off to the bathroom to release my snail size bladder.

I finished up in the bathroom. I greedily grabbed my juice, ready to down the sucker. Let me reiterate, I *clap*, WAS *clap*, A *clap*, HYPER *clap*, ACTIVE *clap*, CHILD *clap*. My favorite part of a fresh juice? Shaking the absolute shit out of it pre-drink. So that’s exactly what I did. And what had my aunt done whilst I was in the bathroom? Undid the cap, but gingerly set it on the top, so it still looked closed. And that sucker went everywhere!

On the walls. On the ceiling. On the door. On the counter. On the floor.

And I thought this was hilarious, had a good ol’ chuckle about it. My Aunt, did not find the same humor in it. Instead she tore into me. And I proceeded to get a full blown lecture on it.

My aunt is FAMOUS for her lecture, all lasting at least an hour. All showing exactly why you were wrong and she was right. This one was no different.

Highlight: the whole gosh darn lecture was on how my dog was going to drink the spilled juice now, and was going to DIE! She went on, and on, and on. I was petrified, my poor doggo was going to die and I was going to be the reason for it. I don’t know where she got the knowledge that apple juice is toxic to dogs, but she turned out to be false and my dog did not die

After this lecture, my job was to clean up the, now dried and sticky AF, apple juice. What a grandiose morning.

Lets Just jump right in shall we?

This story takes place on, what I can only assume, is a Tuesday. Now, I say this because, my aunt Lynn watched us EVERY Tuesday, without fail. And on this adventure, Lynn was watching my sister and I, so Ima make my best guess here.

So it was a Tuesday, at the end of the school year. Still a bit of snow on the ground, mainly just dampness, muck, and mud, but fairly decent weather. Partly cloudy, a slight chill in the air.

I guess the weather isn’t exactly relevant, but the point is it was the end of the school year and we were in kindergarten. What happens to kindergartners at the end of the year? They get a free day off! It’s the most magical day, when everyone else goes to school, but the kindergarten stays home so next years kindergarten can come visit, and get to know the whole school system set up. So they know what they’re gonna be in for, for the next 13 years.

My Aunt thought that it would be the perfect day for an adventure! So, we got up, got breakfast, where I probably fell asleep with my head on my teddy bear, like I normally would. Actually I probably just fell asleep, my aunt wouldn’t allow me to have my teddy bear anymore, because I was “too old”, keep in mind I was about 5. Then we got dressed, several times. Getting dressed was always a hassle with my aunt, you always had to dress how SHE wanted you to. I remember this day she made me wear the absolute, most grubiest outfit that has ever walked this earth. I mean, that’s a little over the top, hers was definitely grubbier.

After all this was done, we headed out the door for an adventure packed day! Where were we going? Golf ball land. You’re probably, most definitely wondering, WTF is that? To be completely honest, we didn’t exactly know either.

Turns out golf ball land, was the forest behind the baseball feild. You see, there was also a place for golfers to practice putting there. Soooo, occasionally a golfer would lose one, and it would be missplaced in the forest, never to be seen again.

Until we showed up. I don’t know how my aunt had figured out there were all these golf balls in the forest, but she did. Today’s task: collect all those golf balls. Which we did. Now, I don’t exactly remember what my feelings were at this exact moment, but I can only assume I was having the time of my life. I mean, how can a hyperactive 5 year old not enjoy free range to run through the forest and collect golf balls? Sounds kinda like a blast.

That was until, the cops showed up.

You see, someone had spotted this creepy ass lady, in the middle of the woods, with two small children. They didn’t realize that we had the day off of school, so being the good Samaritans they were, they called in a kidnapping situation. So, a cop showed up and started asking my aunt some questions.

These were around the lines of:

“Who are you?”

“What are you doing with these small kids in the middle of the woods.”

“Are these your children?”

“Why are they not in school?”

To which she replied with”

“I’m Aunt Lynnie, and this is Mae and Bee.” (She called my sister Mae because she NEEDED a nickname, my nickname has always been Bee)

“We are collecting golf balls.”

“I am their aunt”

“It’s a day off.”

And then she did it, she offered him a golf ball. SHE OFFERED A POLICE OFFICER A DIRTY ASS GOLF BALL, SHE DUG OUT OF THE WOODS. Needless to say, he declined.

And for some unknown reason, the cop believed her whole, even though the situation was total sketch, and she seemed completely out of her lid. Or, the more likely thing was that he just couldn’t be bothered on this particular day.

So he told us to have a jolly ass day, and puttered away in his cop car. Hello people, clearly this lady was crazy and he never got any real clarification that she was actually our aunt. He just believed every word out of her mouth.

Moral of the story:

If we were actually being kidnapped, which was highly probably because this was sketch, we would have been. Because he just went with it, which is vaguely hilarious and vaguely concerning.

Setting the Scene:

It was a dreary day, end of March or beginning of April. I was a little 3rd or 4th grader. (Hey, I was little. I can’t be expected to remember every little detail) We were in that odd stage of weather, not quite winter, not quite spring. You know, when the snow is mostly melted, just sorta gray and soppy at this point, and there are puddles and mud everywhere. It’s the time when the playground mulch starts to rot and smells like literal vomit. (If you know, you know)

My sister and I had piled into my Aunt Jane’s car after school, so it must have been a Wednesday. Her car was one of my least favorite places. Picture this: Freedom gas station bags full of junk food and mountain dew, random boots and shoes, piles of random knick knacks. The floor encrusted with sand and random fluids. Bits of food (crackers, sunflower seeds, gummy worms, etc.) squished and crushed up into the seats. A vague scent of weed, covered up by lots and lots of intense. The ceiling almost entirely covered in pins, stickers, and patches.

The actual story:

Now, for some now unknown reason, after school my Aunt took us to Duluth. This was most definitely the shittiest idea she could have had. I mean her car could barely make it down her driveway without crapping itself, but hey, lets drive over an enormous bridge real quick! It’ll be fun!

She is also the world’s slowest driver, always under the speed limit. Yes, she is THAT person.

So we take our casual cruise up to Duluth, me in the back, my sister in the front. Where did we go, you might ask??

Well folks, none other than the sketchy part of town, with all the schizophrenics and pedophiles. She parks us outside of the creepiest apartment building that I have ever EVER seen. Windows either boarded up or covered in plastic or sheets. It had a fire escape but it had conveniently rusted and started to break apart. It was a lovely beige color. Yes I am aware that I can remember these little tiny details, yet I’m incapable of remembering why we were going to Duluth and how old I was. It’s a wonder what our minds are capable of remembering.

Jane was and is always crying about something, so she takes this moment, in this creepy parking lot, for the creepy apartment, to start crying. Greaaaaaaatt. Then she starts in on her story.

Jane’s Story (the basic gist of it):

She had taken us to this spot specifically so she could tell this story because she wanted us to know, and what better than a real life visual!

It went something like this: Remember my friend (I have forgotten the name so we’ll call him Ralph)? He lives here with his girl friend (We’ll call her Erica).

Side note on Ralph and Erica:

They were her drug dealers. They were not her friends. They just sold her drugs in between their casual trips to jail. Jane does not have any real friends.

Back to the story:

Earlier that week Erica had decided to commit suicide by jumping from their apartment window. They lived on the 13th floor.

Jane sobbed and sobbed and told us all about how close they were. How bad we should feel for her, how bad we should feel for Ralph, how bad we should feel in general. Then we sat in the parking lot, whilst she cried, for a jolly long amount of time.

The validity of the story:

Now, there was absolutely no way that this story was actually true for several reasons.

1. Jane loved to make up stories, particularly about having cancer or people dying. She does this because the legit thrives off of sympathy, it’s her thing. She is an emotional manipulator and her elementary nieces were not safe from this.
2. We saw Erica several times after this event. She was very much alive. Every Time though, she was somebody else. I was in elementary, that didn’t mean I lacked all brain cells.

My response to the whole thing:

Through the drive up, the story, and sitting in the parking lot, I did what I do best. I didn’t give one singular shit.

You see, my mom had packed me ricecakes for an after school snack. There was nothing I loved more than a snack and rice cakes would be my favorite. This still stands true for today.

Earlier that day I had also picked up a new book from the library. At this time I was really into this one series, and the books were MASSIVE. So massive my little hands couldn’t barely hold it open.

So while Jane had her sob sesh, I was sitting in the back, zoned out in my happy place. Munching on some rice cakes, sitting criss cross applesauce, and reading. Clearly I’m a very caring person.

I feel like, in order to gain a better knowledge on my Aunt Lynn, we need to take a little looksie at her smashing mansion. Anddddddddddd by “smashing mansion”, I really mean, a creepy, rundown, shack of a house.

I won’t state where she lives, because that would be 1. stupid and 2. dangerous. But I will say, if you go into the shady part of town. The part, where you drive through it and your mom tells you to lock your car door. Yeah, that part. That is where Lynn lives, and she is definitely one of the creepiest folks around.

Throughout my childhood, Lynn moves around a lot, but there is one house (the final house) that sticks with me.

She rents this tiny little house, its more like a shack than a house. Its falling apart, in pretty much everyway you can think, and desperatly needs a paint job.

Her backyard is FULL of massive holes, that look like graves. This is because her dogs like to dig them, and she encourages it because they are just soooooo smart to know how to dig a hole. It is also filled with random shitty tables and chairs (also falling apart) and a fire pit. She likes to invite random people over to cook hotdogs, roast marshmallows, and have a couple beers.

The inside of the house is two stories, neither really being a full story. The upstairs is a singular bedroom, where my cousin resided up until about a month ago. Yep, he moved out when he was in his 40s. Great guy, no job, likes video games. Ladies hit him up.

The downstairs is basically one little room that functions as living room and kitchen. My aunt also uses the living room as her bedroom. Now is extremely cluttered. Not that shes a hoarder or anything. Its just that she thinks that she can find a use for everything and basically only buys crap. Actually, take that back. She finds most of her stuff on the side of the street. The stuff that people put giant “FREE” signs on, because it’s trash but hey, maybe some dumbass will want it.

My Aunt went to art school. Figures, right? So her whole house is decorated with odd little sculptures, and paintings that she made herself. Many of these paintings are of naked people, all of these paintings are creepy and extremely weird.

She has a plentiful supply of pets, so everything is coated in a nice fine layer of dog and cat hair. Also, due to the pets and it being a very small space, it has a nice odor of animal. Joy!

This is only a description of her home, sadly I lack all photos of it, because I don’t want to document such horror. But this only goes skin deep on what the house is truly like. I recommend a fun little field trip to her house for a full experience.

Previously I have given a very, VERYYYY informative description of my lovely Aunt Jane. Now, the time has come. The time. For. Lynn! DUN!DUN!DUN!

Lynn:

Now Lynn, Lynn would be the straight up, description of crazy. Like when you see someone walking down the street and they look completely wack. Yeah, that Lynn for you.

Size:

I would consider Lynn to be of average size. Maybe a little on the shorter side but around average BMI. So, nothing interesting there.

Hair:

Now, for as long as i’ve known her, she has never, NOT ONCE, cut her hair. Every once in a while she’ll give herself a slight trim, but not much. That’s right people, she has loooooooooong grey locks, that go past her butt. No thank you. Her hair is dry, brittle and full of split ends. She prefers to wear it in either two thin braids (she has extremely thin hair, that just gets thinner as she grows older) or in a looped pony tail, such as this

Since we’re on the topic of hair, not only does Lynn have a plentiful amount on her head, she also flat out refuses to shave both legs and pits. Her claim? She gets severe razor burn and its not worth the pain. Sounds fake to me, but I’m not going to say anything

Smell:

Sadly to say, but due to her extreme pit hair and lack of a good deodorant, Lynn has a very intense B.O. Want to further intensify it? She bikes and walks EVERYWHERE, and in the summer heat, it gets STANKY. oof. Alongside that, she has a large amount of pets in a very small house. 2 cats, 2 dogs. One can only imagine what that does to a person, and their house.

Clothes:

Now I never, not once, said Lynn was a fashion icon. But I will say that her “sense of fashion”, well, its pretty iconic

My personal favorite is her fall and winter garb. Plain black boots, thick wool socks, and ice grippers are an essential. Even if we’re going to the grocery store, and we’ve all heard of the grocery store tragedy. On top she’ll wear a mens button-up, becuase they are cheaper. On her head she’ll wear a trendy wool headband and exremely old headphones, the kind you wore in the computor lab in grade three. These headphones are attached to an even older handheld radio which she attaches to her arm. She wears a ratty red zip-up hoodie, which she has had since forever, and pulls on the hood. The best part though? The vibrant neon yellow safety vest, which she wears evrywhere. I don’t know why, but if that doesn’t scream crazy, I don’t know what does.

A classic summer look: This is also a look that has traveled through my entire life and does not show a sign of stopping anytime soon. She has a plain black, ribbed, one-piece swimsuit. This suit, is worn everyday, in replace of a top, underwear, and a bra. Its kinda, very, muchly, insanely, disgusting. On top of it she wears overalls, one strap unattached. Now I had to say it, but I too, have been known to rock the one strap overall look, so I can’t hate on that one. Overalls are just convenient Okay? For footwear she’ll opt for some dollar store, I take that back, Walgreens, sandals. Always black. Because she walks and bikes everywhere, and does so in crappy sandals, she constantly has cuts and blisters on her feet. Its okay though, she carries a foot specific first-aid kit with her.

It has come to my attention that nobody here, has any clue what my aunts actually look like. Obviously this cannot go on. Their descriptions only enhance any story. So here’s a fun little look into Jane.

Jane:

Not to be harsh, or mean, or cruel. But the best way to start the description of our lovely Jane, is to let you know that in some circles, people lovingly refer to her as “The Troll”. Lets just say, that is a very fair statement.

Size:

Jane is a shorter women, averagely around 5′ – 5’2″. What she makes up for in height, she over compensates for weight. She weighs at least, bare minimum, 300 pounds. Though, whenever I see her, she tells me about ALL the weight she’s lost. This apparent “weight loss” will range from 50 – 150 llbs. It never looks like she’s lost weight, it actually looks like she’s gained some.

Hair:

Jane likes to keep her hair extremely short, like this:

It is very thick and curly, and she dyes it a dark reddish brown. Because it is so short and she LOVES sympathy. She has told people, on multiple occasions, that she is just getting her hair back from chemo. Ummmmm, a couple problems here. 1. she doesn’t have cancer and didn’t have chemo and 2. if you’re getting your hair back from chemo it is not going to be that thick. Thankfully, no one ever believes her.

Teeth:

Jane is an avid Mtn Dew drinker. Like, this women will go through a pack a day, its like her cigarettes. Also she’s really into weed, which cannot be good for your teeth. And do not get me started on the candy. Basically her whole diet. To top it all off she was never a fan of personal hygiene (I.E. the good ol teeth brushing). Can you see where I’m going here?

Yep, you have guessed er’ chester, her teeth started to rot, and fall out. So now she wears dentures. Endearing. You’d think that because of this, she has perfect teeth. Not the case. She refused to wear the bottom ones, apparantly they were to uncomfortable. I don’t know where she kept them exactly, but she now says that she lost them. And in her financial state, she’s is not getting new ones. Now she just walks around with only top teeth, its great.

One fun fact about her teeth: she loves to eat sunflower seeds, the unshelled kind. Unfortunately for me, they get stuck in her teeth. She simply pulls them out, sucks off the sunflower seeds and goes back to her munchies. GROSS!

Tattoos:

Jane has multiple tattoos. A turtle, a dragonfly, a couple music notes, and a few others. But was this is really about, is the treble clef on her hand. She got this in memory of my grandma who passed away, many, many, many years ago.

She likes to casually whip this one out to show people, often strangers. From then on she will break into racking sobs, while she tells them about the tragic death of her mother, and how she was her caregiver/ lifeline to her final moments. When my grandma died, they weren’t talking because my aunt was angry that my grandma wouldn’t give her anymore money. They hadn’t been talking for about a year. She’ll also say that her mom just died. Let me reiterate, her mom died YEARS AGO. Legit 9 years to be exact.

Clothes:

Both my aunts are obviously fashionistas. Janes pant of choice would either be sweats, PJ bottoms, or sweats that shes cut off into shorts. Normally shell wear a sweatshirt or a PJ top. She has worn the same shoes for as long as I can remember, I don’t think she has another pair. Actually that’s wrong, on the occasion I’ll see her in winter boots. But mostly she prefers her favorite UGG slippers, at this point they are musty but who really cares.

Ahhhh, my dear aunt Jane. A thrilling women who enjoys spending her days in her La-z-boy, watching family feud, drinking Mountain Dew, and munchin’ on sunflower seeds. My sister and I were lucky enough to have her pick us up on Wednesdays from school, she would then watch us until my dad got home, around 6:30. Most nights at her house were filled with such joys as her trying to force feed us junk food (specifically my sister, Margaret. I, on the other hand, did not need all the sugar), reading my book from the comforts of her crusty and slightly damp couch, and tip toeing around the dog unfortunate bathroom breaks on the carpet.

But, on very special Wednesdays we got to take a fun little trip!

Now this “fun little trip” occurred every other Wednesday. She would pick us up and we would drive to the other side of town. Once there, we would park behind an old and very shady apartment building in the Alley. Now, when I think back to these moments, I’m not very sure that the apartment building was still functional. The fire escape was missing multiple steps, the bricks were falling off, and it radiated an overwhelming sense of gloom.

“Be quite,” she would tell us. Well, if i’m being honest, mostly me. Otherwise I’d sit in the backseat and sing my little heart out. LA LA LA LA. I distinctly remember what she would say. “I need to talk to my friend, he’ll be here soon and then we’ll go home.” Or something along those lines, it’s really not that distinct of a memory. After all these adventures started in the 3rd grade.

Then we would sit and wait. Her “friend” was ALWAYS late. Sometimes a mere 15 minutes, sometimes an hour. I didn’t mind though. I was a little bookworm, so I took it as extra reading time. Plus, if I was good we could stop at the library after. It was just a couple blocks away from our favorite alley. Unfortunately, my sister sat in the passenger seat. So we waited, I read my book, and my sister endured her unusual stories.

Eventually her “friend” would show up in his dark car. He’d pull up next to our and they would both roll down the windows. Jane would tell us both to look away for a bit. I was like “pffft, I’m just reading my book, I never pay attention lady.” So I’d continue a joyous adventure through story land. Buuuuuuuut, I was also the noisiest of all the noses. So obviously I’d watch.

Jane and her “friend” would talk for a couple minutes. My Aunt then gave him some money, and her gave her a brown paper bag. She was under the impression that I was just a naive child and didn’t know what was happening. I wasn’t stupid. She was taking my 8 year old sister and I (I was also 8, we’re twins) to drug deals. Such a fun time.

Now, Jane told my sister and I “DO NOT TELL YOUR PARENTS WE WERE HERE!!” And because 1. I couldn’t care less, 2. these trips were a great time to sneak in a little more reading and 3. I just really, and I emphasize REALLY, did not care, I never told my parents. As a child, my sister Margaret, idolized Jane. For this reason, she didn’t tell either.

So, until many years later, these trips, like the trip Lynnie and I took to SuperONe, my parents never heard about this. Needless to see, they were not that pleased when they eventually found out.