You went to the annual kickoff-to-Summer picnic at your Uncle Finster’s house.
Normally you would avoid your Uncle Finster’s house the way a small rabbit would avoid a pit of vipers. A big fat pit of bulbous, sweaty, bitchy, chunky-thighed, drooling, self-congratulatory, vain, loud-mouthed, half-wit, vipers.
And those are just your aunts.
But this year your grandmother has declared this summer will likely be her last and any of her grandchildren who don’t attend every family function, to be vindictively and purposely speeding her descent into the grave—she’s a lovely woman.
As you arrive, you’re immediately met by Uncle Finster’s wife, your Aunt Sally. She’s standing with her hands on her hips and an expression of accusatory smugness on her face.
Note: Sally’s actual name is Snaggle-faced Bar Sinister Hag, but for some reason, people just call her Sally.
“Did you bring it?” Aunt Sally demands.
“If you’re referring to either fear, trepidation, or an overwhelming desire to be elsewhere, I never come here without it,” you reply.
“Do you always have to be a smartass?”
“Evidently,” you admit.
“I meant the Jell-O dessert–did you bring the Jell-O dessert,” Aunt Sally wants to know.
“I brought the Jell-O dessert,” you confirm as you hand her a large container.
“You didn’t put those tiny little colored marshmallows in it did you?” Aunt Sally asks. “You’re Uncle Finster hates those tiny little colored Marshmallows in his Jell-O.”
“I can’t stand that hippie Jell-O,” your Uncle Finster confirms.
“No, Uncle Finster, I didn’t put those tiny little colored marshmallows in the Jell-O; I know how much you hate those tiny little colored marshmallows. In fact, I’m well aware of the list of things you hate: things that are colorful, things that are joyous, laughing children, puppies, opossums that aren’t dead, potpourri, shredded wheat, pinecones, anything that’s purple, people who live on islands, words containing the letter Q, human emotion, lime flavored foods, and seedless watermelons.”
“Lime is disgusting and seedless watermelons aren’t natural,” he screams at you.
“They aren’t the only things unnatural,” you say as you wipe the spit from your face.
“Remember that time you put those tiny little colored marshmallows in the Jell-O: your Aunt Sally had a heart attack,” Uncle Finster accuses you.
“First: grabbing your chest and screaming, “you’ve given me a heart attack” isn’t the same as actually having a heart attack. Second: I’m sure her sedentary lifestyle and lard-based diet would be the primary factors in regards to any heart issues Aunt Sally may experience.”
“What’s going on?” Your Aunt Jackal forces her way into the conversation. “You didn’t put those tiny little colored marshmallows in the Jell-O again did you?”
Note: your Aunt Jackal was meant to be named Jaclyn, but there was a clerical error with the birth certificate. Oddly, the name Jackal is far more suited to her.
“There are no tiny little colored marshmallows in the Jell-O,” you assure her.
“You’re still a bitter disappointment,” she tells you before she walks away to get another cocktail.
“Did I hear something about there being tiny little colored marshmallows in the Jell-O?” Your Uncle Brad asks. “Are you trying to ruin the annual kickoff-to-Summer picnic?”
“There are no tiny little colored marshmallows in the Jell-O,” you tell him.
“Everyone is talking about how you put tiny little colored marshmallows in the Jell-O again,” your Cousin Bucky tells you as he joins the conversation, “I like the way you stir things up.”
“I have an announcement to make,” you shout as you stand on a piece of lawn furniture.
“I hope it’s not that you’re a bitter disappointment,” your Aunt Jackal says, “because we already know.”
“Don’t worry about her,” Cousin Bucky whispers to you, “Aunt Jackal’s drunk…and a bitch.”
Undaunted you continue, “I can assure everyone here, there are absolutely no tiny little colored marshmallows in the Jell-O.”
You stand waiting for a response as your family silently gapes at you.
The silence is finally broken by a scream from Aunt Sally, “This is lime Jell-O filled with chunks of seedless watermelon.”
“I did do that,” you tell the family, “but what else can you expect from a bitter disappointment?”
Aunt Sally clutches her chest.
Aunt Jackal drunkenly scowls at you.
Cousin Bucky gives you a thumbs-up.
Summer has officially kicked off.