Found it.
This is what I was talking about. Maybe it's only entertaining if you share my hatred.
[DeadpanAnn] A Work of Fiction. Very disturbing fiction. 11/6/06
Once upon a time in Mississippi there lived an ugly old hag who was known to her family members as Aunt C*nt. Fifty-nine years of life had done Aunt C's body no favors. Her face was wrinkled and saggy, and her lips were creased from many years of chain smoking. Her dentures were yellow-- not the kind of yellow teeth that you'd see on your average unhygienic redneck, but bright yellow, like the warning lights that flash in front of school zones on the highway. Her poorly managed diabetes had left her corpse-colored legs scabbed and scarred. Aunt C's many years of carrying around lots of extra weight left her belly saggy and soft, like her old, neglected breasts-- breasts that had not been touched by a man since 1978, when she divorced her second husband of six months after learning that he had given her herpes.
Aunt C's mother, "Gramma," lived to be very old, and Aunt C lived with her in a little shack. She also had a brother named Grant, a daughter named Manipulatina, or "Tina" for short, and two nieces, Payback Patty and Karma. Gramma's husband, Grandpa, died in 1987, and left Gramma a large sum of life insurance money. Grandpa had been a heavy drinker and an abusive asshole, but he at least had the wisdom and foresight to know that Aunt C would try to take the money from Gramma, and one of the last things he said to Grant was that he wanted him to make sure that didn't happen, and that Aunt C didn't manipulate Gramma into supporting her for the rest of her life. But shortly after Grandpa's death, Gramma told Grant to mind his own business. Grant had done all he could to keep his promise to his dad, but without his mother's cooperation he could do nothing to help her, so he stopped trying.
Gramma had never been a very smart woman, and now in her seventh decade of life she was even less equipped to protect herself from her predatory daughter. Within just a couple of years, Aunt C had taken most of Gramma's money. She invested some on a house in the Memphis ghetto, then took some more to buy it out of foreclosure two times. She also purchased a string of bunk used cars from a guy named Walley, and spent lots of money on fine dining at such sophisticated establishments as Danver's and Poncho's.
Aunt C and Gramma occasionally asked Grant for financial advice, but never did anything he suggested. When Gramma was 80 years old, she placed a large amount of what was left of her money a 10-year cd, against his advice. Grant knew that the 80 year old woman would never live to see the money again, and he tried to tell Aunt C that but Aunt C told Gramma to ignore Grant's advice. She knew that if Gramma never spent the money she might have the chance to spend it herself. That day, while they were talking about finances, Gramma decided that she should reassure Grant that she still had something put away for him. Gramma told him that her little shack house would be his one day. Grant was not excited, but figured at least Aunt C wouldn't be able to get the house and trade it for tickets to mid-south wrestling, as she had done with her father's gold watch. That had been just one of her atrocious acts.
One day when Payback Patty was 14 years old, she and Aunt C had a huge argument. Patty’s parents had left her there for the weekend, and Aunt C refused to take her to her softball game as she had promised Patty’s parents she would. They argued in the front yard until Aunt C grabbed the girl by her hair and beat her in the face until her metal braces were entangled in the flesh of her cheeks and her mouth filled with blood. Since that day, Patty had longed for the opportunity to bitch-slap the old hag. She had never forgotten the cruelty in Aunt C's eyes, or the smell of decay from her clenched yellow teeth.
The beating had exposed a layer of Patty that nobody had seen before. She was now capable of revenge for its own sake. Seeing the emerging dark side in his daughter, Grant warned her to keep her temper, and not to even think about revenge, but Patty knew that one day she would have it. One day she'd be an adult, and Grant's warning would mean nothing. Also, Gramma wouldn't be there to be ashamed of her little grand daughter. Payback Patty knew that Aunt C's outrageous behavior would one day provide her with the one thing she needed--- justification.
The years passed, and Gramma aged. All of her money was gone, and Aunt C had long ago lost her house in the ghetto and moved back in with her under the pretense of providing care. In reality, Aunt C was only serving herself. Aunt C ran a puppy mill, breeding Pomeranians and selling them for $300 each to stupid people in front of Wal-Mart. She brought her many dogs with her, despite Gramma's severe allergies. She even made the old woman move out of the room she had slept in for so many years and into the smaller of the two bedrooms, so that Aunt C could have a room big enough to accommodate the California king size bed she had just rented from Rent-A-Room.
With Gramma's social security checks, payments from her dead husband's pension, Aunt C's retirement, and a paid-for house, life should've been gravy, but it was not. Aunt C frequently asked Grant for financial help. She even tried to get him to give her some land he had owned for a long time, claiming that this one last favor would solve all of her financial problems and be the last thing she ever asked for. Grant's wife, Vicious V, would not allow it.
One night Aunt C was asleep in her big bed, surrounded by Pomeranians. Her flabby neck was partially blocking her airway, and she was snoring loudly. The smell of stale cigarette smoke and dog crap filled the air. Aunt C was dreaming about winning a lifetime supply of cigarettes when her peace was suddenly interrupted by the subconscious realization that Gramma would very soon die. She suddenly sat straight up in her giant bed, covered in sweat and herpes ointment, and started calculating as she had done so many nights before. The old hag knew that she would be in trouble when the old lady was gone. Having squandered her own inheritance and most of her brother's, and having lost her own house, she had nothing left. The very house she was living in had been promised to Grant, who she felt certain would not be very charitable towards her in her time of need. In the dark, Aunt C stroked the matted fur of a black Pomeranian, and began to scheme.
By morning, the hag had devised her newest plan. It was a classic redneck plan. Aunt C's daughter, Manipula Tina, lived with her husband and kids in a house out in the country. Even though her husband didn't like Aunt C, she convinced him that she needed to be nearer to them so that they could help her care for Gramma, who was becoming more of a burden every day. Tina and her husband were persuaded to allow her to put a trailer on their land about 100 yards away from their house. Aunt C and Gramma would live in the trailer for the rest of Gramma's days, and Aunt C's heavy burden would be lifted by all the help Tina would be able to provide. She would also have a place to live after the old woman's death.
To make it work, Aunt C would need Grant's blessing, because the shack had been promised to him. She told him that he would get half of the profits from the sale of the shack. Grant knew he was getting the shaft, but he had never wanted to argue over what his still-living mother would give him as inheritance. The shack wasn't worth any money, but it was on several acres of land in a desirable location.
One day an old man made Gramma an offer for the house she had lived in, raised her kids in, and gone senile in. She accepted. Grant thought this was going to be a good thing because Gramma really seemed to want to move. She liked the idea of being near Tina and two of her great grandchildren. Also, at this point in his life, having perhaps granted one wish too many, Grant could use the money. Things were falling into place. Aunt C had acquired a trailer and made arrangements for it to be moved, and other preparations for moving day were underway. But before the sale could be completed, the buyer was suddenly killed in a tragic car accident.
It was months later before another buyer came along. Gramma's Alzheimer's worsened, and so did the selfishness of Aunt C's scheme. Why should she settle for half when she could have the whole? She spent the next several weeks telling Gramma that it would be best to let her handle the money from the sale, including Grant's half. The senile old woman put up little resistance. One day very near the closing date of the property sale, Aunt C was on the phone with Karma, who she told about the new deal. Karma expressed satisfaction, and said that she thought her father would also be happy. "Oh," Aunt C*nt interjected, "now I don't know what Gramma is planning to do with the money. I don't know that he's going to get half now, or if she's made other plans. You know, she's so stubborn I can't talk her into doing anything rational." During the long pause that followed, Karma recalled the many cynical comments of her mother and her sister, and realized that they had been exactly right. There was no good in Aunt C, as she had wanted to believe. She was actually going to suck the old lady bone dry, no matter who she had to lie to or screw over in the process. Finally, Karma replied with a flat "Okay." Sensing her disgust, Aunt C told her that she had better not say anything to Grant, or else she would "get slapped."
At that very moment, somewhere far away, Payback Patty's ear lobes turned hot pink. She knew instinctively that Aunt C had finally crossed the line she'd wanted the old hag to cross for so very long. It was time.
Two hours later, Patty pulled into the driveway in front of the new trailer and parked her car next to a white pickup truck. The tailgate of the truck was open, and on it there were a few tools, some duct tape, and a pet taxi. She picked up a large, rusty flathead screwdriver and clenched it tightly in her right hand. Aunt C was inside alone setting up dog crates in the living room, and was startled by the sound of footsteps on the wooden steps that lead to the trailer's doorway until she saw that it was only Patty, who was always showing up unannounced to visit Gramma. "Hey there, darlin’!" the fake old bitch exclaimed. "How's it goin?" Payback Patty said, and Aunt C turned back around to face the stack of crates. "Just fixin' my sweeties a place to sleep."
Payback Patty raised the screwdriver above her head and with all of her might she brought it down into the old hag's back. Aunt C fell forward, sending the stack of dog crates crashing to the linoleum floor. A dozen Pomeranians scattered out of the trailer. The hag grunted and then gasped. Patty pulled the bloody screwdriver out, and blood trickled from the wound. She pounded it into her again, between the shoulder blades this time, and then let go. The old hag screamed once, but her scream didn't express pain so much as it did pure surprise. Patty grabbed her slumped body by the shoulders and violently pulled her around so she could see her face. Aunt C's body slowly slid down until she was on the floor with her back against the wall. The red tip of the screwdriver protruded from her chest, and she looked down at it in horror, and then looked back to her niece. The old hag's mouth was gaping open; her false teeth had come loose and were sliding down her chin in a stream of bloody saliva.
"I know an orthodontist who'll fix that," Patty said, and wiped her bloody hand on her jeans. Aunt C's glasses were on her chest, and her eyes were filled with fear and shock, just as Patty's had been while the old hag held her by the hair and pounded her face again and again, fourteen years earlier. The hag gasped, and then let out a short, loud, half-scream half-grunt, like a person might make if they were punched in the stomach. Patty looked around the room for another weapon, and found an old wooden chair. She lifted it with both hands and pulled it back to the side like a baseball bat, steadied herself with her left foot and then bashed the old lady in the head with it, knocking her face down onto the floor, unconscious and bleeding even more profusely now.
Payback Patty dropped what was left of the chair. She leaned against the wall across from the hag, watching her back rise and fall. She noticed three skinny red Pomeranians standing in the doorway, one behind the other. The tallest one tentatively entered the room and approached the pile of dying flesh on the floor. He began sniffing the pool of blood around Aunt C's head, and then began to quickly lap it up with his little pink tongue. The other two dogs soon came to his side, and began to search the scene for signs of food. Aunt C's back had stopped rising and falling, and the pool of blood around her head had finally stopped getting bigger. A dog crawled onto her back, and began to tug at the flesh around one of the large holes the screwdriver had made. "What sweeties."
Karma became a real estate agent, and sold Gramma's property for twice the original offer. Grant received all of the money that was left. He paid off his debts and used the rest to put Gramma into a posh retirement home, where she spent the rest of her days knitting sweaters and believing herself to be the Queen of England before she died peacefully one night in her sleep. Payback Patty was questioned by police, but never arrested. She developed a strange phobia of dogs and now lives with her true love somewhere in Mississippi.
[DeadpanAnn] A Work of Fiction. Very disturbing fiction. 11/6/06
Once upon a time in Mississippi there lived an ugly old hag who was known to her family members as Aunt C*nt. Fifty-nine years of life had done Aunt C's body no favors. Her face was wrinkled and saggy, and her lips were creased from many years of chain smoking. Her dentures were yellow-- not the kind of yellow teeth that you'd see on your average unhygienic redneck, but bright yellow, like the warning lights that flash in front of school zones on the highway. Her poorly managed diabetes had left her corpse-colored legs scabbed and scarred. Aunt C's many years of carrying around lots of extra weight left her belly saggy and soft, like her old, neglected breasts-- breasts that had not been touched by a man since 1978, when she divorced her second husband of six months after learning that he had given her herpes.
Aunt C's mother, "Gramma," lived to be very old, and Aunt C lived with her in a little shack. She also had a brother named Grant, a daughter named Manipulatina, or "Tina" for short, and two nieces, Payback Patty and Karma. Gramma's husband, Grandpa, died in 1987, and left Gramma a large sum of life insurance money. Grandpa had been a heavy drinker and an abusive asshole, but he at least had the wisdom and foresight to know that Aunt C would try to take the money from Gramma, and one of the last things he said to Grant was that he wanted him to make sure that didn't happen, and that Aunt C didn't manipulate Gramma into supporting her for the rest of her life. But shortly after Grandpa's death, Gramma told Grant to mind his own business. Grant had done all he could to keep his promise to his dad, but without his mother's cooperation he could do nothing to help her, so he stopped trying.
Gramma had never been a very smart woman, and now in her seventh decade of life she was even less equipped to protect herself from her predatory daughter. Within just a couple of years, Aunt C had taken most of Gramma's money. She invested some on a house in the Memphis ghetto, then took some more to buy it out of foreclosure two times. She also purchased a string of bunk used cars from a guy named Walley, and spent lots of money on fine dining at such sophisticated establishments as Danver's and Poncho's.
Aunt C and Gramma occasionally asked Grant for financial advice, but never did anything he suggested. When Gramma was 80 years old, she placed a large amount of what was left of her money a 10-year cd, against his advice. Grant knew that the 80 year old woman would never live to see the money again, and he tried to tell Aunt C that but Aunt C told Gramma to ignore Grant's advice. She knew that if Gramma never spent the money she might have the chance to spend it herself. That day, while they were talking about finances, Gramma decided that she should reassure Grant that she still had something put away for him. Gramma told him that her little shack house would be his one day. Grant was not excited, but figured at least Aunt C wouldn't be able to get the house and trade it for tickets to mid-south wrestling, as she had done with her father's gold watch. That had been just one of her atrocious acts.
One day when Payback Patty was 14 years old, she and Aunt C had a huge argument. Patty’s parents had left her there for the weekend, and Aunt C refused to take her to her softball game as she had promised Patty’s parents she would. They argued in the front yard until Aunt C grabbed the girl by her hair and beat her in the face until her metal braces were entangled in the flesh of her cheeks and her mouth filled with blood. Since that day, Patty had longed for the opportunity to bitch-slap the old hag. She had never forgotten the cruelty in Aunt C's eyes, or the smell of decay from her clenched yellow teeth.
The beating had exposed a layer of Patty that nobody had seen before. She was now capable of revenge for its own sake. Seeing the emerging dark side in his daughter, Grant warned her to keep her temper, and not to even think about revenge, but Patty knew that one day she would have it. One day she'd be an adult, and Grant's warning would mean nothing. Also, Gramma wouldn't be there to be ashamed of her little grand daughter. Payback Patty knew that Aunt C's outrageous behavior would one day provide her with the one thing she needed--- justification.
The years passed, and Gramma aged. All of her money was gone, and Aunt C had long ago lost her house in the ghetto and moved back in with her under the pretense of providing care. In reality, Aunt C was only serving herself. Aunt C ran a puppy mill, breeding Pomeranians and selling them for $300 each to stupid people in front of Wal-Mart. She brought her many dogs with her, despite Gramma's severe allergies. She even made the old woman move out of the room she had slept in for so many years and into the smaller of the two bedrooms, so that Aunt C could have a room big enough to accommodate the California king size bed she had just rented from Rent-A-Room.
With Gramma's social security checks, payments from her dead husband's pension, Aunt C's retirement, and a paid-for house, life should've been gravy, but it was not. Aunt C frequently asked Grant for financial help. She even tried to get him to give her some land he had owned for a long time, claiming that this one last favor would solve all of her financial problems and be the last thing she ever asked for. Grant's wife, Vicious V, would not allow it.
One night Aunt C was asleep in her big bed, surrounded by Pomeranians. Her flabby neck was partially blocking her airway, and she was snoring loudly. The smell of stale cigarette smoke and dog crap filled the air. Aunt C was dreaming about winning a lifetime supply of cigarettes when her peace was suddenly interrupted by the subconscious realization that Gramma would very soon die. She suddenly sat straight up in her giant bed, covered in sweat and herpes ointment, and started calculating as she had done so many nights before. The old hag knew that she would be in trouble when the old lady was gone. Having squandered her own inheritance and most of her brother's, and having lost her own house, she had nothing left. The very house she was living in had been promised to Grant, who she felt certain would not be very charitable towards her in her time of need. In the dark, Aunt C stroked the matted fur of a black Pomeranian, and began to scheme.
By morning, the hag had devised her newest plan. It was a classic redneck plan. Aunt C's daughter, Manipula Tina, lived with her husband and kids in a house out in the country. Even though her husband didn't like Aunt C, she convinced him that she needed to be nearer to them so that they could help her care for Gramma, who was becoming more of a burden every day. Tina and her husband were persuaded to allow her to put a trailer on their land about 100 yards away from their house. Aunt C and Gramma would live in the trailer for the rest of Gramma's days, and Aunt C's heavy burden would be lifted by all the help Tina would be able to provide. She would also have a place to live after the old woman's death.
To make it work, Aunt C would need Grant's blessing, because the shack had been promised to him. She told him that he would get half of the profits from the sale of the shack. Grant knew he was getting the shaft, but he had never wanted to argue over what his still-living mother would give him as inheritance. The shack wasn't worth any money, but it was on several acres of land in a desirable location.
One day an old man made Gramma an offer for the house she had lived in, raised her kids in, and gone senile in. She accepted. Grant thought this was going to be a good thing because Gramma really seemed to want to move. She liked the idea of being near Tina and two of her great grandchildren. Also, at this point in his life, having perhaps granted one wish too many, Grant could use the money. Things were falling into place. Aunt C had acquired a trailer and made arrangements for it to be moved, and other preparations for moving day were underway. But before the sale could be completed, the buyer was suddenly killed in a tragic car accident.
It was months later before another buyer came along. Gramma's Alzheimer's worsened, and so did the selfishness of Aunt C's scheme. Why should she settle for half when she could have the whole? She spent the next several weeks telling Gramma that it would be best to let her handle the money from the sale, including Grant's half. The senile old woman put up little resistance. One day very near the closing date of the property sale, Aunt C was on the phone with Karma, who she told about the new deal. Karma expressed satisfaction, and said that she thought her father would also be happy. "Oh," Aunt C*nt interjected, "now I don't know what Gramma is planning to do with the money. I don't know that he's going to get half now, or if she's made other plans. You know, she's so stubborn I can't talk her into doing anything rational." During the long pause that followed, Karma recalled the many cynical comments of her mother and her sister, and realized that they had been exactly right. There was no good in Aunt C, as she had wanted to believe. She was actually going to suck the old lady bone dry, no matter who she had to lie to or screw over in the process. Finally, Karma replied with a flat "Okay." Sensing her disgust, Aunt C told her that she had better not say anything to Grant, or else she would "get slapped."
At that very moment, somewhere far away, Payback Patty's ear lobes turned hot pink. She knew instinctively that Aunt C had finally crossed the line she'd wanted the old hag to cross for so very long. It was time.
Two hours later, Patty pulled into the driveway in front of the new trailer and parked her car next to a white pickup truck. The tailgate of the truck was open, and on it there were a few tools, some duct tape, and a pet taxi. She picked up a large, rusty flathead screwdriver and clenched it tightly in her right hand. Aunt C was inside alone setting up dog crates in the living room, and was startled by the sound of footsteps on the wooden steps that lead to the trailer's doorway until she saw that it was only Patty, who was always showing up unannounced to visit Gramma. "Hey there, darlin’!" the fake old bitch exclaimed. "How's it goin?" Payback Patty said, and Aunt C turned back around to face the stack of crates. "Just fixin' my sweeties a place to sleep."
Payback Patty raised the screwdriver above her head and with all of her might she brought it down into the old hag's back. Aunt C fell forward, sending the stack of dog crates crashing to the linoleum floor. A dozen Pomeranians scattered out of the trailer. The hag grunted and then gasped. Patty pulled the bloody screwdriver out, and blood trickled from the wound. She pounded it into her again, between the shoulder blades this time, and then let go. The old hag screamed once, but her scream didn't express pain so much as it did pure surprise. Patty grabbed her slumped body by the shoulders and violently pulled her around so she could see her face. Aunt C's body slowly slid down until she was on the floor with her back against the wall. The red tip of the screwdriver protruded from her chest, and she looked down at it in horror, and then looked back to her niece. The old hag's mouth was gaping open; her false teeth had come loose and were sliding down her chin in a stream of bloody saliva.
"I know an orthodontist who'll fix that," Patty said, and wiped her bloody hand on her jeans. Aunt C's glasses were on her chest, and her eyes were filled with fear and shock, just as Patty's had been while the old hag held her by the hair and pounded her face again and again, fourteen years earlier. The hag gasped, and then let out a short, loud, half-scream half-grunt, like a person might make if they were punched in the stomach. Patty looked around the room for another weapon, and found an old wooden chair. She lifted it with both hands and pulled it back to the side like a baseball bat, steadied herself with her left foot and then bashed the old lady in the head with it, knocking her face down onto the floor, unconscious and bleeding even more profusely now.
Payback Patty dropped what was left of the chair. She leaned against the wall across from the hag, watching her back rise and fall. She noticed three skinny red Pomeranians standing in the doorway, one behind the other. The tallest one tentatively entered the room and approached the pile of dying flesh on the floor. He began sniffing the pool of blood around Aunt C's head, and then began to quickly lap it up with his little pink tongue. The other two dogs soon came to his side, and began to search the scene for signs of food. Aunt C's back had stopped rising and falling, and the pool of blood around her head had finally stopped getting bigger. A dog crawled onto her back, and began to tug at the flesh around one of the large holes the screwdriver had made. "What sweeties."
Karma became a real estate agent, and sold Gramma's property for twice the original offer. Grant received all of the money that was left. He paid off his debts and used the rest to put Gramma into a posh retirement home, where she spent the rest of her days knitting sweaters and believing herself to be the Queen of England before she died peacefully one night in her sleep. Payback Patty was questioned by police, but never arrested. She developed a strange phobia of dogs and now lives with her true love somewhere in Mississippi.
~sniff~
What a warm and touching story. Without a doubt it's a future Newberry winner... or maybe something from Fangoria, perhaps.
Posted by
Stewed Hamm |
10:37 PM
I remember this heart warming tale!!
Posted by
Anonymous |
5:06 AM
Stew, I KNOW, right? The New Yorker shot themselves in the foot when they rejected this one! ;)
Julie, I think I should try to have it published as a pop up book, and donate copies to Sunday Schools everywhere.
Posted by
Mommy Needs a Xanax |
7:11 AM
Ah, that brings back fond memories of a story I wrote in my Creative Writing class. It was about my lovely mother in law and a strange fantasy of an accidental fall involving basement stairs and one slowly melting ice cube accidentally left on them.
Good times. Thanks for the memories.
Posted by
Anonymous |
12:52 PM
How I love a happy ending!
Posted by
Anonymous |
3:15 PM