Adultery:my wacko sister's favorite topic

[bigdumbswede]

Aunt Elsa's here." My grandson breaks into a run. He greets her with open arms.

My grandson loves my sister, the very same girl that tortured me as a child. The person who set me up and caused me to get multiple ass-beatings in my youth. I consider his allegiance to my sister a near traitorous act. But since he's so fond of her, I never intervene in their relationship.

Elsa is highlighting my daughter's hair at the kitchen table. My daughter has a plastic hood on her head, tied under the chin, and my sister is pulling little tufts of hair through pre-punched holes in the cap. My sister is going to work on my daughter's head with a crochet hook, intent upon her task.

My grandson shrieks with laughter at the sight. "Here, lemme do it, Aunt Elsa." He tries to wrestle the crochet hook from her.

"Get," my sister laughs, shoving him away.

"What color's it going to be?" I wonder aloud.

"Blonde," my daughter states, matter of factly.

"But your already blonde," I scratch my forehead, looking confused.

"Oh, go sit over there," My sister orders. She points at a chair across from their operation.

My sister is still a bossy old heifer. She used to smoke up until 5 years ago, so her habit took a bit of a toll on her complexion, replete with fine lines and wrinkles. Her bushy blond-grey hair is up in pigtails and she's wearing purple toreador slacks. She looks like a teenager who has lived a hard life. Her butt looks like two boys fighting under a tent. Heidi Klum she is not.

My sister talks non-stop. She is wired on a pot of coffee and a couple sweet rolls, the Swedish equivalent of speed. She is a constant source of gossip. If I want to know who is screwing who in our small town and surronding countryside, Elsa is the one to consult.

Elsa is flying high tonight. She's going a mile a minute. My sister knows everyone's story and she doesn't mince words. I stay just to get an update on the sex lives of our neighbors and former classmates. People try to cover up their sins, they lie like cheap rugs, but Elsa knows what time it is. She's got the **** on everyone.

Adultery is her great theme. All the men who have gotten caught and never expected to. One after another, caught at the game like a weasel in the moonlight, held up, dangling from a leg trap, for everyone to see and cry "shame, shame." And among the shamers there's a guy thinking,"Lucky for me I've covered MY tracks, nobody'll ever find out." And then they sniff him out and two weeks later, tar and feather him and ride him around on a rail. Then one of the guys carrying the rail thinks,"good thing I deleted those e-mails when I did." Then a short while later his wife finds a couple letters sent to "Angel Eyes" in their computer's recycle bin. They put him in stocks, and local people, including my sister, throw dead fish at him and used fruit at him, buckets of slime and entrails.

Then one of the main hurlers thinks,"if I get caught, and I won't, I'll deny everything." Then he gets caught with a pink thong under his car seat, a hotel room keycard in his parka jacket and he's made to walk around with a diseased pelican around his neck. The guy who ties the pelican around his neck is thinking,"I'll call and tell her I can't meet her anymore until this all blows over." Two weeks later he's caught in the HiDeHo Lounge slipping a stripper ten bucks and he feels a hand on his shoulder. It's his brother-in-law, who drags him home, where he sits at home in a dark basement, knashing his teeth. Meeanwhile, his wife's brother is thinking,"I'll meet Linda tonight, nothing to fear, I'll take her up to the Sauk Center, nobody will see us there."



And so it goes. One after another. Each one dumber than the one ahead of him. "Pingpong balls for brains," my sister snorts and sits at the breakfast bar. "You men have no more self-control than a dog in a bratwurst factory, I tell you what." Her own husband is a quiet little mouse of a guy who spends a lot of his time down at the restaurant with my father and brothers and the rest of the local guys, slopping down coffee and flirting with the waitresses at the Big Bass Eatery. If he even dared look at another woman I'm sure that my sister would haul him down to the public square for a good lashing.

My sister finishes my daughter's hair and gives me a really good haircut. She owns a big beauty salon and her clients are the source of her information. She rakes in the bucks coloring womens' hair unnatural shades of magenta and spends long hours on her feet. She was a bright student but short-circuited her college career with a pregnancy in her late teens. She's a crafty businesswoman and has made some excellent real estate investments, so I guess she did all right for herself. But she still is a bossy old heifer and I usually avoid her like the plague.

[Peg]

:yh_rotfl :yh_clap :yh_clap

Her bushy blond-grey hair is up in pigtails and she's wearing purple toreador slacks. She looks like a teenager who has lived a hard life.

[DesignerGal]

I loved this writing.