Here we are. We've finally arrived at the event that the Black Snakes coming foretold to me. I'll just jump right in this time. My wife had just left to Charlotte NC to photograph a wedding when coincidentally enough her uncle Mordred and his wife Tina LeFay decided to schedule a lunch with Aunt Bee. They showed up to our house and the mood was off, but I couldn't figure out why exactly. It had been a good eight years since I'd had the misfortune of dealing with Mordred and his family. He's a sickly looking man in his early 50's. He's got a gray beard that he keeps about an inch long complete with beady eyes that exist in two holes of sickness. Misery exudes from every hair on the man's head and you can't help but feel the terrible magnetism as it attempts to pull you into its suffering.
They came into the house and he appeared to be angry at something, while she had a fake plastic smile that scared me even more than his miserable facial expression. I had no idea what or why. Aunt Bee wanted to show my wife and I's new bed off for some reason. Just as we moved, my wife managed to score us a 4000 dollar king size Kincaid bed with a memory foam mattress for 250 dollars. One of her friends boyfriends parents were selling their house and farm to move to Virginia to be farm hands there. They were downsizing their lives, just as we were, only they were going to be less comfortable doing so while we were planning to be more. They had to liquidate all of their things at fire sale prices so that they could get on with it, and that is how we ended up with that beautifully ornate and expensive bed that Aunt Bee wanted to show off. We all went to my bedroom, which was weird, but Aunt Bee is nothing if she's not idiosyncratic, so I just pigeon holed the weird behavior between her brother and her at that. It was extremely weird with all four of us in my room looking at my bed. Mordred walked in and just as quickly walked back out. "Did you see the bed?" asked Aunt Bee of Mordred. Tina was standing there with a creepy large shit eating grin on her face. "Yeah, I seen it," quipped Mordred as he departed from the room more aggravated and miserable than before.
Shortly after this strange scene they were on their way to Chick-filet to have some chicken biscuits for lunch. Mordred and Tina had several plans for that day. One of the main plans was to extract as much of Aunt Bee's money as possible to help pay for their sick daughter Rapunzel's medication no doubt. Which of course is a crock of shit since they have medicare and medicaid and all other manner of government check on account of their sick daughter. They have simply gotten used to Aunt Bee giving them money to help with Rapunzel. That money train had ended shortly after our arrival, which had little to do with us except for the Who's upping the pressure on Aunt Bee's money because of our presence. Tribute must be paid in Whoville. I called my wife while they were at lunch to report on the weirdness and to get her opinion on her uncle's strange behavior, but she didn't answer because she was busy with the wedding. Ayden Zen and I decided that we would take'er easy and watch the "Fantastic Mr. Fox," sometime after they had been gone. That's what we were doing when the three of them came back from lunch. Tina kept insisting that "Fantastic Mr. Fox" was a "strange little program," and I kept on insisting that it was not a program but a movie. We went back and forth with this behavior for a minute or so, and I realized then that something was terribly off with this woman. She was watching the idiot screen with the movie on it like I imagine I would watch a Donkey show in Tijuana, and she kept repeating "this is a strange little program."
Mordred was not present, just Tina and Aunt Bee. Aunt Bee informed me that Mordred was outside having a look at some of the damage on the back garage. The wood around the door frames to the garage had begun rotting at the bottom where the wood meets the ground. It's just exterior wood that's not foundational. Mordred had quoted Aunt Bee 900 dollars to fix it which amounts to 20 dollars or so in 2x4's and his time. I told her I would fix it for free. However, that, apparently, was why he was not in the house upon their return. "Maybe you can go out there and talk to him about it," said Aunt Bee innocently enough. That was a good idea I thought. After all, the man's work was contracting and I figured I could pick his brain and learn a few things about what I needed to do to fix the garage. I didn't know at the time that the man hated my very existence.
I went outside and he was not at the back garage. I walked over to the top garage, the one near the house which features my man cave inside, and just as I approached the garage out came Mordred. He was in my man cave, snooping. He came barreling out of the garage having no doubt sensed my presence outside and therefore having his snoopathon cut short. "Did you have a look at the bottom garage?" I asked. He just sneered at me with a look of hatred as he passed by on his way back to the house. He didn't say a word, but the look on his face sent my defense alarm off into a high pitch scream. Something was very wrong with what had just happened. I turned around and followed him into the house fast on his heels. I had herbage in that there garage. I had reason to be worried beyond that look on his face. Aunt Bee is old school, and while she is on a powerful regimen of prescription frankenchemical fukitol pharmaceuticals, they are all prescribed by a doctor and legal. Herb on the other hand is not recognized by her as anything other than "Refer Madness." Consequently, after this happening, I began the practice of keeping all herbal medicine and paraphernalia under lock and key in a safe. Luckily for me, his look had nothing to do with my modest herb stash for he found it not.
He entered the house and quickly traveled into my bedroom. I was right behind him. "Hey, where are you going man?"
"To the bathroom," he gurgled as he entered my room. My wife and I have the master bedroom which features a pretty large bathroom area. It's got a large tub, a separate shower, a toilet, two sinks with a large mirror, and a very large walk in closet. It's not a bathroom that's meant to be used by guests as you have to go through the master bedroom to get to it. There is, however, another full bathroom in the living room. He was completely aware of this.
I later found out that Mordred, Tina, and Rapunzel had lived in this house with Aunt Bee for a six month stay a couple of years before our arrival. They left on their own accord, and it was never meant to be a permanent situation. Their house had been foreclosed on and they needed a place to stay while they got their free government housing lined up. Upon their departure from living with Aunt Bee, Tina LeFay took the opportunity to tell Aunt Bee that they would never live with her again. Tina LeFay did not appreciate the way Aunt Bee didn't let her rule the roost in Aunt Bee's house. There was no thanks for letting us live with you, just a fuck you very much we'll never live with you again.
"Wait, I don't think you understand, this is Wendy and I's private bedroom. There's another bathroom in the living room." This kicked off the psychological battle that was to ensue. I had no idea. He turned around and quickly appeared in my personal space with his big gnarly finger waging an inch from my face. "Let's get something straight" he growled. "This is my sister's house. You are a guest in this house, and I'll do what I want to while I'm here." He turned, entered the bathroom, and slammed the door. I experienced a sharp pain as my lower jaw slammed into the floor in disbelieve. What, pray tell, the fuck had just happened? My brain shorted out as it tried to wade through the disbelief. I paced back and forth in my room, next to my bed, next to my dresser, next to my wife's dresser, next to our stuff...in our bedroom, and tried to figure out what the hell to do now. I exited the room after envisioning myself kicking the door down and strangling that piece of shit, but I had plenty more wherewithal to remain all tactful and diplomatic like at that point. My son was home, and I didn't want him to witness me strangling somebody and consequently being cuffed and hauled off to the slammer.
I exited the room and headed to the living room where Tina and Aunt Bee were to report my disbelief about what was occurring. "Mordred is in the bathroom in our room," I said to Aunt Bee. She looked up and said "there's another bathroom right there if you need to use it," and she pointed at the bathroom in the living room. "I know that," I said with my brain still shorted out by the weirdage, "I live here." Tina was looking at me with a very large maniacal grin. It was all going according to plan. I went back to my room and paced some more just outside of my bathroom. "This is not cool man," I said through the closed door. I turned and went back out to the living room to wait for Mordred's punk ass to finish doing whatever he was doing in my bathroom. Or walk in closet for all I knew. I keep my guns in a trunk in my closet. I keep a lot of my personal stuff in my closet as does my wife. It's in the bowels of my bedroom. It's a pretty private location to keep my private stuff. This ass hole was not respecting my space. I was standing in the kitchen after about ten minutes had passed with him in my bathroom when he finally emerged from my bedroom. The look on his face was now more of a grin. It was now more of a you're gonna get used to this behavior boy, and you're gonna do what I say. Only "no, no I'm not fuck stick. I'm gonna fuck you up if you don't change your tone" is what I was thinking as my brain clicked over one more notch towards savagery.
He walked passed me and sat down in my lazy boy, the one that I had replaced the one that was given to the Matriarch with. It was about to be on like Donkey Kong. I stood there transfixed on Mordred. I could hear Tina's cackles echoing in her mind as her plan was so beautifully working. Mordred pointed his worthless finger at me, and then pointed it at the couch just next to him, looked me in the eyes with his sickness and boomed a large "sit downnnnn." I just stared in amazement. "Sit DOWNNNNN" he popped off again. "SIT DOOOWWWNNNN" he commanded for a third time. I could see in his face that he was a scared coward only doing what he was told. "Who do you think you are?" I asked still trying to sort this behavior out. After all, this assault was coming from family...at least technically. Not blood, but family nonetheless. He just snickered at me in reply and looked to his witchy wife, Tina, to take the helm of the plan to be rid of me.