Subj: My Dearest Son
Date: 3/26/2003 1:16:05 PM Eastern Standard Time
From: mailto:patience
To: mailto:wildchild.nomoola.com





My Dearest Son,

At last a few minutes peace and quiet, life at the house has been utter bedlam since my last letter. It seems I was wrong about the neighbors not being awake to witness the events I wrote of in my last letter. Not only did they witness the events; they were quite vocal about them. It seems that the lesson everyone in the neighborhood learned from this entire incident is that there's money to be made from the intimate details of other's lives if you own a pair of binoculars, a zoom lens camera and you know which tabloid to call. Let me start back at the beginning.

As you may remember, the living room has one of those three-pane ceiling to floor solar energy windows designed to maximum sunlight exposure for energy collection. Covering the window on the inner rod are sheer curtains designed to defuse the incoming light without causing darkness. The outer rod has the heavier drapes that block out the sunlight entirely. Well, to make a long story short, I forgot to pull the drapes on the night in question and young Palaver across the street was awake and had his camera ready. As you may remember the ChitChatter, a rather nefarious tabloid, has its headquarters in the area, and young Palaver developed the pictures before sunrise, and as they say "the rest is history."
Imagine my surprise when I found myself ambushed by twenty-six reporters on the lawn the next morning.

To complicate matters, Mr. Spindleleg came out to see what was taking me so long while the cameras were still rolling. It didn't help matters any that he was dressed in his bathrobe. I will never know if what happened next was a direct result of my thought or not, but just as I was thinking all I needed to make perfect was your grandfather coming out with a shotgun, that's exactly what happened. I must admit it was fun watching the reporters scramble for cover when your grandfather discharged both barrels demanding that they all go do something to themselves that is anatomically impossible. Unfortunately, Mr. Spindleleg was stunned by the noise and in his attempt to avoid being "gunned down" dove for the ground at which time his robe became dislodged and his manhood came into full view of young Palaver's camera lense. I don't know what he got paid for the picture, but the ChitChatter ran a two-page centerfold layout of Mr. Spindleleg spralled on the ground and me with my mouth hanging open looking at him.

When the live pictures hit the wire services, the phone began ringing and hasn't stopped since. Poor Mr. Spindleleg was ordered to the missionary organization's headquarters immediately, and summarily dismissed, your grandfather was again charged with discharging a weapon within the city limits and his shotgun confiscated as evidence. Thinking things hadn't gone too badly, all things considered, I was totally unprepared for what happened next.

A delegation from the family arrived on the doorstep unannounced demanding entry. Mr. Spindleleg tried his best to keep them out, but having been raised a gentleman, he couldn't see his way clear to "decking" Great Aunt Esmerelda as she forced her way past him. My Dear Son, did you know that Great Aunt Esmerelda's first husband divorced her to marry his lover? No? Neither did I, and I certainly didn't was not aware that said lover was a drag queen. I was also unaware that her second husband left a suicide note proclaiming "the fires of hell would be a welcome relief after being married to her." Things didn't get totally out of hand until your grandfather questioned the paternity of Great Aunt Esmerelda's fourth child who was born nine months to the day after her third husband's death. She didn't physically attack him until his said less than jokingly, "What was the deal with Moloch? You get rid of a husband and he gets a son? It was Mr. Spindleleg who answered my question "Who is Moloch?" I guess someone with a divinity degree would know the answer to that question.
It was at this point that your sister and Pietra walked into the house. Both were dressed as if going to a séance. Great Aunt Esmerelda grabbed her chest and fell to the floor dragging your grandfather with her. When Pietra screamed "Moloch depart this place in the name of all that is Holy!" We were all so focused on your grandfather and Great Aunt Esmerelda that none of us noticed that her son had vanished from the house until much later. Your grandfather and I agree that is it strange that he hasn't been to see his mother in the hospital. He always seemed so devoted to her. I won't put Piatra's explanation for his absence in writing, even if Mr. Spindleleg tends to agree with her on this matter.

Oh, before I forget, the district attorney who was handling your grandfather's case has been replaced. It seems that the money he was using to pay for his mistress' condo, car and other expenses were traced back to a fund that was at his disposal for special projects. As the judge at his arraignment said, "I don't think that was the special project the public or the courts had in mind when they set up the fund." He's facing 5 to 10 in the "big house."

Well, My Dearest Son, I have to close now, the sound of the chain saw has stopped which means that Mr. Spindleleg is finished cutting down the tree your grandfather uses to sneak out of the house after I'm asleep.

Write soon.
Love always,
Mom


copyright 2003 Bobbi Duffy