Let’s play a game. I’ll tell you about the people in my family, and you guess which one of them is the real crazy. I know what you’re thinking. There’s all kinds of crazy, but I mean the real kind. I’m talking about the kind of crazy that needs to be locked away in a dark place. C’mon; it’ll be fun.
I’ll start with my mom. She’s a real piece of work. She’s depressed. Not bi-polar at all. Just depressed. There isn’t a pharmaceutical or clinical remedy known to mankind that will get her out of bed in daylight hours on a regular basis. I hear she used to be happy, and beautiful, and alive. Now, she just curls up in bed and stares at the wall. If you ask her why, she’ll tell you her eyes are burning.
Every once in a while, my dad would get fed up with the dishes and the smell, and he’d kick her out of bed. He’d kick her until it hurt, and she’d get up and shower. She’d do a little laundry, and rake up the trash. She might even make him dinner afterwards. She’d lie on the sofa and stare at him until he fell asleep. She stared, but she never cried. As soon as he was asleep, it was back to bed for her.
My aunt once told me that my grandma used to lock my mother in the cellar because she was afraid of the dark. It must have worked. She likes the dark now.
So, which one? Give up? Ok, I’ll tell.
It's not my mom. I mean, my mom is depressed, but only economically. She’s been working nights as a minimum wage data entry clerk for BLR Medical, staring at an old CRT monitor for eight hour shifts. Talk about eye strain. And it's not my dad; he’s not crazy at all. He’s just a sadistic wife-beating drunk. As for my grandma, she's the sweetest little old lady you could ever hope to meet. She never once locked my mom up anywhere.
My aunt, however. Schizophrenic pathological liar with acute dissociative identity disorder and a smidgen of delusional parasitosis. She told me that lie about grandma because she thought I was Sookie McFadden, her imaginary CIA handler who orchestrates military coups and installs puppet regimes in Central America every other Thursday armed with only a paperclip, a Zippo lighter, and half a can of Easy Cheese. Total whack job.
Hey, that was fun. How about another game? I know! Wanna guess which one of my siblings is a serial killer?
Opening: Jenny Martin.....Continuation: Blogless_Troll