On Satan's Authority

I'm gonna slow down posting after this post...I didn't want to keep anybody waitin' around for this scene to resolve itself.  I noticed that "Mordred and Tina LeFay Spencer" got read more than "Grandpa's Whipping Bog."  People are busy, got jobs to work, and lives to live off of the net, and I don't want to take up too much time for those who are interested in reading Epiphany Now.  I'm going to try to keep it to one post a week for that reason.  I've already got the next post on the backburner...

After Private Dickweed's failure to get me to comply with his demands in my house, it was time for the witch to show herself. She began a barrage of assaults on my character. I had a beard of about three months at the time, I'm Scotch/Irish with some Prussian to boot, I grow hair like most people collect junk mail. "How are you going to get a job with a face like that," said the witch.

"I'm not looking for a damn job."

"Not looking for a job, so you're just planning on mooching off of Aunt Bee indefinitely?" Let's keep in mind here that neither one of these douche bags have a job, nor are they looking, and Private Dickweed had a beard longer than mine at the time. They both live in government housing and get government checks. "Don't you ever clean house?" As she points at the wreckage that was the kitchen. I hadn't had a chance to sweep and mop since the storm came through the day before.

"A storm just came through yesterday," I said incredulously. "And at any rate, who the hell are you to question me in my own house?"

"Your house," piped up Dickweed, "this is my sister's house." He made to get back into my personal space and the witch pushed him away and behind her. At this time it was getting pretty heated in the room. My face was red. I only had a couple of clicks left before I reached full bore savagery. My son was standing beside me loosing his shit at this point in response to the energy in the room. I picked him up and took him into his room and shut the door. I wasn't sure what was about to happen and I didn't want him to witness it. It was a mistake because he doubled up on loosing his shit when I left the room and shut the door. I opened the door and picked him up in an attempt to try and calm him. That's when Mordred decided to try and grow some balls.

"How long are you gonna stay in my sister's house?"

"We've moved in indefinitely. We're not going anywhere."

"And another thing, you don't tell my sister what to do. If she wants a t.v. she can have one. I don't want to hear any reports of you telling my sister what to do again...you hear me?" (Shortly before Wendy and I moved in with Aunt Bee she decided she would give her flat screen idiot panel to Rapunzel as a gift, making Mordred's comment that much more idiotic)

"What are you talking about? If she wants a television she can have one. I don't tell Aunt Bee what to do. She can do or have whatever she wants. What is he talking about Aunt Bee?"

"My house, my rules."  Said a monotone Bee. 

"We're gonna leave soon, and when I come back in a couple of weeks you better be gone." Commanded General Douchery. "You aren't welcome in this house."

"Don't you care at all about your niece's family? Don't you know that I'm married to your niece and this is her son that ya'll are freakin' out right now." He didn't say anything in reply. He could care less about his niece.

"All I know is that you need to pack your bags and leave." Said Mordred.

"Who do you think you are coming into our home like this, comin' at me like this? I could pack our bags and leave, and we'd go to California, and you'd never see your niece again. Don't you care about that?"

"So are you saying you are going to move to California then?" Said Mordred.

"I could, but Aunt Bee asked us to move here. I resigned from my job to move here. I didn't lose my job. This is all intentional.  I'm still an EMT intermediate by state, and by the National Registry of EMT's until 2014.  If I want or need to go back to work it won't be a problem.  Where are you workin' at?" Aunt Bee's brain was stuck on a loop, and from this point on all that she would say is "my house, my rules."

"You need to pack up and leave. You better be gone the next time I come here." Said Mordred. The tone had been escalating during this exchange. Ayden was still crying and freak'in out. I had a ball of anger in my gut that was growing unmanageable. I was beginning to worry for my son. I had to keep him safe, and I didn't want him to witness the Kraken. I began to become afraid because of this. I was afraid that I was going to lose it and force my son to take in primal violence. This kicked off an onslaught of emotion that I could do little with. I wanted to cry and at the same time I was getting close to the desire to kill. More because of what was to come then because of what had happened already. I sensed that it was only going to get worse, and I was right. We had only just moved in several months ago. Our house in Suck Hill was occupied by renters for the next year. We had nowhere else to go except California 2300 miles away. Wendy was in Charlotte. Her family was attacking me. Everything I was doing was being called into question because I was not going to be treated this way in my own home, or anywhere else for that matter.

"I've never in my entire life been treated this way, and by family nonetheless. Why are you treating me this way?" I said with a quiver in my voice.

"Because we don't want you here." And that's when I advanced on him. I set my son down and I started to move into his territory to do I don't even know what to him, but nothing good. Tina got between us and pushed Mordred towards the door. "Go outside," she commanded. He didn't protest much, just did what he was told and went outside. I picked my son back up since he was at my leg screaming. Tina came at me, and I had to put my arm up, bent at the elbow to keep her a foot away from my face. She backed me into the wall. I was holding my son.

"Lady, if you don't back up I'm gonna drop you." I said sternly.

"He's scared of me," she said, "he's scared of me...ha ha ha ha haaa, he's scared of a woman, look at him.  Go ahead boy, drop me!!"

"My house, my rules," cried Aunt Bee who was still covered with a blanket and rocking herself silly. "My house, my rules."  As she increases the speed of her rocking.

"He's scared of me, look at him Aunt Bee, he's about to cry." Indeed, I was. I had my son in my arms. I couldn't lose it on this woman because who would watch my son while my wife was gone to Charlotte incomunicado for the next five hours or so due to photographing somebodies special wedding day. In spite of all of this I felt myself losing control in the direction of reptilian violence. I was also feeling the need to flee, to give in, pack my son and I up and leave. I thought I'd call my wife from the road to California and tell her to meet me there. I wasn't going to deal with this, her family, any longer. I knew that I had one more click before I transformed into deadly raging berserker. I knew that if this happened I would be hauled off to jail, no questions. This was a woman after all. With one last ability to reach logical thinking I placed my son and I between this witch and our couch. This four feet of space allowed me to calm just enough to know that I could not lose control. I had to keep control of myself because I had to protect my son's best interest. However, I was ready to kill. In fact I've never been ready to commit deadly violence like that before or since that moment. I wanted to rip her head off, and that's when Mordred brought his punk ass back into the house. This is also when I could no longer keep from using four letter anglo saxon words.

"You two get the fuck out of this house now before I end up going to prison for murder."

"I'll leave when I'm good and ready," said Mordred.

"Who gives you the authority to come into this home and treat your family like this?" I screamed Mordred with my voice cracking. His answer baffled me. In fact, it still baffles me, and I'm not sure exactly what he meant by it. But this is what he said.

"I'm here under the authority of Satan!!!" The cat was out of the bag. I could tell by Tina's face that she was upset with him for divulging this information. These two spend most of their time at their Baptist church. The kind where they speak in tongue. I knew as much, but what exactly did he mean by "under the authority of Satan"? I didn't want to find out.

"Get out, the both of you, get out before I kill you. In fact, you aren't welcome here ever again. I'm not going anywhere. The next time I see either of you the first thing I'm going to do is call 911." That gave me the idea to get the phone. Holding the phone I said "if you don't leave right now I'm going to call 911, and then I'm going to choke your stupid ass until you stop trying to breath."

"My house, my rules," Aunt Bee was still repeating to herself. Tina pushed Mordred out of the house and left behind him. I watched as they got in their vehicle to flee. The anger dropped out of me as they left and it was replaced by a storm of worry, regret, and sadness. I didn't understand what had just happened. Why? I didn't know Aunt Bee well enough yet to trust her. I wasn't sure what she had told them at lunch. I wasn't sure what to believe any longer. What was I going to do now? Staying here wasn't an option because I was never going to be treated like that again if I could help it. I went into the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table and began weeping. I was an emotional wreck at this point. It felt like I had all of my energy drained from me. All I could do now was to weep, and shake, as the threat had temporarily passed. What had I done by moving my family here, to Whoville? What was I going to do now?

By this time Aunt Bee was standing in the kitchen in front of me nervously.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've cried?" I asked. "The last time I cried was bout eight years ago. What did you tell them at lunch? Why did they come here and act that way? I've never been treated like this in my entire life. Not by anybody, and especially not family. Is this how your family treats its members?"

"I don't know why he came here and did that?" Said Bee.

"What did you tell them at lunch? What was he talking about with the television. Do you think we are keeping you from a television?"

"I don't know what he was talking about. I just told him that I wanted a television in my room so that I could watch church on Sunday. I didn't tell him that you were keeping me from a television."

"So he just came up with that all by himself?" I asked.

"Yes, I didn't say anything about ya'll except that we were all happy together in my home."

"So he just made all that up? They came here and attacked me all by themselves?"

"I don't know why he did that." Said Aunt Bee as her eyes wandered off into la la land.

"I need you to understand something. I'm never going to be treated like that again." I said. "You have to make a decision now. It's either us or them. If I'm going to stay here than he is not welcome back again."

"I asked you to move here." Said Bee.

"Do you understand what I'm saying to you now? They are not welcome back here, or I'm packing our bags and taking my family to California. What's it gonna be?"

"Well I'll just have to call him and tell him to not come back here. If he wants to see me he'll just have to meet me out for lunch somewhere away from here."

"The next time I see them I'm going to call the police, and if they don't leave I'll be getting one of my guns out to make them leave. There won't be any talking. I refuse to be treated this way, and I won't let my son witness something like this again if I can help it." That's when the phone rang. It had been about ten minutes or so since Mordred and Tina LeFay left. It was Mordred, and I could hear what he was saying. Aunt Bee told him that I was very upset and it would be best if they not come back and that she would just meet them out if they wanted to see her.

"Okay...okay...bye bye," and she hung up the phone. "He said he was sorry for acting that way. He said he had no business acting that way in my home and that he was sorry." I heard the conversation. He did apologize...to Aunt Bee, but not to me. He didn't tell her to tell me that he was sorry because he wasn't. He just had time to figure out that their brilliant plan had failed. He had time to begin worrying that the Aunt Bee money train had derailed. He was calling for immediate damage control after their failed plan.

"Don't tell Wendy about this" pleaded Bee.

"Why would I not tell her? She is my wife!"

"Just don't tell her, she doesn't need to know. I don't want her to worry about it." But it was already too late. I had texted Wendy shortly after they left. The text read:

"you're family is crazy...I think we're going to have to move to California because I won't be treated this way again."

Mordred and Tina LeFay Spencer

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.

Grandpa's Whipping Boy

I was going to wait until Tuesday to post this next segment of the "Whoville Chronicles," but I've got the next three posts finished already.  I see no point in just sitting on them.  

Evil is a real thing, and I know that because I have met it face to face a few times in my life. I've even been tricked into helping it from time to time. I'm indirectly responsible for an unknown amount of innocent death by bombs in Afghanistan. The carrier I was on, the U.S.S. Carl Vinson, dropped three million tons of ordinance on that god forsaken desert mountain land. I did my part helping the nuclear power plant function to make the steam that made the whole thing possible. Evil goes by many names and comes in all different shapes and sizes. Although I participated in that evil, it didn't feel as diabolical as a much smaller breed. The insult of the evil I'm speaking of now pales in comparison to that boat evil I participated in while serving in the USN, but it shook the foundation I stand on just as powerfully. This evil was dished out by Mordred and Tina leFay Spencer...in-laws.

Mordred Spencer is the youngest of the Spencers, and his depravity has no bottom. Even after the assault I'm going to write about, as terrible as it was to me, I still feel sympathy for his misery and pain. Nobody should endure the type of suffering that he has endured, but I'm convinced his suffering is the hand of fate. We make our own beds, and we sleep in them. Mordred's suffering started with Grandpa Spencer I'm sure, but I know very little about it. I'm quite certain that it involved grandpa's whip, and Mordred does a good job perpetuating the Spencer Crazy. His wife, Tina LeFay, is an exceptionally witchy witch. She is one of the only people whom have ever brought me to the reptilian core of my brain. After her, I learned what the saying "seeing red" really means. I was never as close to killing another person as I was with her. I could easily be writing this from a prison cell for 2nd degree murder because of that witch, Tina LeFay. But enough chirpin' this shit up...let's move on with the story.

It was some time in early spring, just after the Black Snake Drone incident that kicked this whole clusterfuck off. I went to Asheville and initiated into permaculture via an opening ceremony that featured a fire, and the calling of ancestors in a quasi new agey ceremony meant to add depth to the experience. I brought a piece of maple wood from our new home in Whoville to burn in that fire, and I called the spirit of my recently deceased maternal grandmother (who died a week before) to that ceremony. I blew on that piece of maple wood and threw it into the fire. I was supposed to state my watershed as I did so. This was a practice deriving from some Native American spirituality. Apparently "tribe" derives from "tributary," and this all has to do with the watershed dictating where you belonged. I wasn't positive about my watershed, but it didn't matter. I stated that I was from everywhere and that my watershed was the rain that fell from the sky. My people are all people who can treat one another with mutual respect. This is my only requirement...respect. If you treat me with respect, I will abide your presence next to mine, and I will reciprocate that respect. My people are all people who practice this simple ethic for conduct, but my tribe was etched out that day as a Post Petroleum Human Tribe of Permaculture.

I drove back down the mountain after initiating into this new tribe, and I immediately had to deal with Mordred and Tina Spencer. The day after I returned from Asheville a storm blew threw Whoville. 60 mph winds and quarter sized hail laid waste to my fledgling permaculture design. The roof blew off of my chicken coop and I watched as the birds faced the brunt of that storm unprotected. Archimedes, the rooster, stood tall as a beacon for his hens, as they were pummeled by climate change. Just after the storm passed, my wife and I were busy replacing the coop roof when the Mad Madam Mine, high matriarch of Whoville, called to work some of her evil magic. We were down at the coop replacing the tarps that composed the roof, and Aunt Bee hollered down to us frantically. "The Mad Madam's roof blew off," cried Aunt Bee, "can you go over there and help her fix it."

The Mad Madam had been hard at work fucking with me since the day I arrived. A few weeks prior to this storm, the Matriarch had Aunt Bee send me over to her house to get a free, like new, computer that she had no use for. It was left by some family member. I went on over to the Matriarchs dilapidated farm house, and was shown to the attic via the stairs that led up to it. I poked my head up into her attic and there it was, an old CRT computer monitor from the 80's. It didn't even have a power cord to it. I grabbed a hold of it and brought it down from the attic. "I can't use this," I said to the Mad Madam, "and even if I could there's no power cord." "Ohh," she said "I wasn't sure about it and I thought you might could use it. What about any of this other stuff?" She pointed to a pile of refuse that she had put together for this moment. I picked threw it just to be nice. It featured an impressive supply of worthless junk that needed to be hauled off to the dump. There was an old c.d. case from the 90's, some tacky clothing, a particularly worthless and flimsy cooler with a tear in the side, and various other consumer widgets just past their expiration dates. "I'll sale you the whole lot for 30 dollars," said the Mad Madam.

"No, I can't use any of it...thanks anyways."

"Well alright, so you don't want the computer then?"

"No," I said.

"Well just set the computer down and I'll haul it off to the dump." Now keep in mind that this thing weighed in the neighborhood of 40 pounds and the Mad Madam is in her lat 60's early 70's. I'd just be an ass to not take it at this point.

"No, that's alright, I'll haul it off to the dump for you, I've got plenty of trash that needs to be hauled off anyways so it's no trouble." (it turns out that I had to illegally dump the damn thing at the dump due to new regulations. In order to be rid of it legally I would have had to have driven to the main dump 30 miles away rather than the satellite dump that I make use of 4 miles away. I basically smuggled the damn thing into the dump via a contractor bag...which was illegal, this is the Mad Madam's type of magic).

"Well thank you" said the Mad Madam Mine as I turned to leave with the piece of shit CRT monitor with no power cord. That bitch new what she was doing. She got me over there to force me into hauling that piece of shit off and to try to sell me some worthless shit. The whole thing was an attempt to pinch some money out of me. She learned that I was pretty impervious to being taken advantage of directly. But she still ultimately got her way by forcing me, through my kindness, to haul that computer off (which by the way, I would have freely done if only I was asked...but that's not how things are done in the south).

Around the same time she managed to steal a 600 dollar micro suede recliner from Aunt Bee. She did that by convincing Aunt Bee that she needed it more. Wendy tried talking Aunt Bee out of it, but by the time we were informed it was too late because Aunt Bee had already "gave her word." We had two of these recliners in the house. One of them was somewhat broken because the ottoman had a bad habit of not staying in the up position. When the weight of your legs is applied it limply lowers to the ground. The one she gave to the Mad Madam was identical in every way except the ottoman actually worked. Not only did the Mad Madam cry her way into this recliner (that's how she manipulates Bee...by crying to her on the phone about how poor she is), she also managed to force me to deliver it to her house. I put the damn thing in my truck and drove across the street to deliver it. She directed me into the mysterious Who daughters room. "You don't want this in the living room," I asked. "No, just put it in my mysterious Who daughters room...she's going to use it there." I delivered it to the mysterious who daughters room, just in front of an idiot panel. I was more than a bit incredulous as there was barely any room for it and no need really. It was just that she enjoyed taking whatever she could get from Aunt Bee. Shortly after this incident I found myself delivering a 500 dollar kitchen table to the Mad Madam courtesy of Aunt Bee. My wife and I began to fear that the Matriarch of Whoville would somehow talk her way into having us deliver our shit to her house for free. This was the only behavior I saw from the Mad Madam Mine. Just, how much can she take from Aunt Bee just for the sake of taking. It's very difficult behavior to abide because it's very transparent. Aunt Bee is aware of it, but she doesn't mind due to the 19 years of Who conditioning. She's been conditioned to not mind that it requires tribute to live amongst the Whos. I, on the other hand, do not pay tribute.

So when the Mad Madam called up to the house after the storm to try and force me into helping her, I told my wife that the Matriarch of Whoville could go fuck herself. My wife saw that I was at my whits end with the Who's, and walked up to the house to explain to Aunt Bee that I was busy dealing with the carnage of the recently passed storm at our own house. She told her to have the Matriarch call over to Admiral Dumpy the Chicken Liver Extraordinaire's house and have her fat dumpy ass get up on the roof and fix it. That's just what happened. Admiral Dumpy took her fat ass over there and fixed the siding that had blown off of the house, not the roof. Fuckin' evil ass triflin' witchy bitch and her god damn conniving Who brood. I know she was over there with her fuckin' binoculars watching us fix the coop and that's why she called with her "roof damage" cackling the entire time. That's the kind of trifflin' shit the Who's practice as a way of life. Just how bad can they fuck with your no tribute payin', interloper, not from around here ass. Just who do I think I am living in Whoville and not paying tribute anyways?

The Mad Madam has managed to take advantage of my kindness since the "roof damage" incident, but I'm constantly ever vigilant against her black magic. Another time she managed to get me to haul all of her trash off for free because she was sick with a bladder infection from drinking nothing but soda religiously. Somehow that translated to me hauling off all of the Who's garbage to include the Chicken Liver's due to her association with the lesbian Who. I even offered to haul off her trash every week, when I haul ours off, if she would only start recycling. In this county it's commingled recycles as well, so it's just two separate containers that you need. Paper and cardboard is one and glass/aluminum/plastic is the other. The Mad Madam Mine, shitty Matriarch of Whoville declined my offer on account of she couldn't be bothered with that liberal douchary practice of recycling. She'd continue hauling off her own trash, thank you very much, and don't get any of that liberal douchary on me.

I meant to go into the story of Mordred and Tina LeFay Spencer, and ended up being sidetracked in more Whoville Who's weedy growth of conivationing conivations somehow. I don't know, maybe it's therapy for me to tell it. The world needs to know how shitty the Who's are...what can I say. The storm had passed and wrecked a lot of my labor. The house was a wreck on the inside from having leaves and various other outsidery tracked in after the storm. Two maple tree branches a good eight to ten inches in diameter and 20 to 30 feet long snapped off and took flight in our front yard due to that storm as well. Luckily they blew to the south therefore missing our house just to the east and 20 feet away from the tree. The two branches flew about fifty yards before stopping just at the fence that surrounds the perimeter of our property. Another foot or so and we would have been paying a lot of money to replace the chain link fence that would have been demolished.

The next day I got up and saw my wife off to Charlotte where she had a wedding to photograph. Aunt Bee informed me that her brother Mordred and his family were going to be showing up to take her to lunch. There relationship is a very unfortunate one. Mordred has been sucking on her bank account tit like a feral leech for quite some time now. His main excuse is his daughter. She is 18 years old now, miraculously, seeing as how she had her pituitary gland removed when she was around eight years old. I had met Mordred, Tina, and their daughter Rapunzel a couple of times in the past. I had gone to their home for a thanksgiving shortly after my wife and I started dating. This was one of the only Spencer events I can remember all of the Spencer's together. They don't even like each other, so it's rare to have them all together. In fact, it hasn't happened since and that was around eight years ago. At any rate, I wasn't particularly impressed with either Mordred or Tina. I thought Mordred was kind of a push over wussy who was just more pathetic and miserable than anything. I thought Tina was exceptionally annoying and superficially nice, and not very good at either. I just chalked them both up to being shaped into who they were by their tragic daughter Rapunzel's plight.

Rapunzel Spencer is unfortunate all around. She has no friends and her parents have kept her confined to their home her entire life. She's been home schooled by her witch of a mother Tina leFay. Due to her pituitary gland being removed at a young age she has had little to no growth. Her body is that of a 10 year old, and any growth that she has achieved has been due to hormone therapy. She's quite difficult to be around due to her social awkwardness due to her lack of interaction with the world outside of their twisted home. Luckily for this tragic lot they have Jebus to take them by the hand and lead them to heaven. How you worship Jebus and Satan at the same time I'm still trying to figure out. I guess it doesn't have to make sense, but seeing how this is the beginning of page five, I'll have to get into that in the next segment of the Whoville Chronicles.