Saturday, August 07, 2010

Green Family Reunion: a happy ending.

What a shocker! Just as the judges announced the three finalists in the Miss Green Family Bikini Pageant (put your hands together for Nieces Beulah, Gaga and Fellatio!) all hell broke loose. Nephew Sherwood burst onto the stage, pushed the ladies aside and snatched the microphone from the emcee (Uncle Dwayne, the dentist) and shouted, "Attention Scrunt's Ear Gang mercenaries! We are Code Bitchy!! Assume your shooty-killy positions! The Scrunt is in the house!" The two Kevins leaped on the stage, looking pretty darn bitchy; you could tell they had been practicing. They snarled a bit for the kids, then assumed their shooty-killy positions and tried to look Jack Bauer-ish. From a distance, you would have sworn their fingers were loaded. Nobody moved. The tension was palpable. Uncle Dwayne's eyes never left Niece Fellatio, but he was the exception. Everyone else, filling the softball field as far as the eye could see, scanned the crowd in hopes of spotting the legendary Serbian assassin. Suddenly, a cry from the Visitor's dugout: "Jenny's got her! Jenny's got her!!"

Sure enough, the Green family's career slut had confronted The Scrunt, who was cleverly dressed in a gorilla suit and pretending to be interested in a dish of bananas in the Green Canteen. Jennifer had just taken something toxic, and was not to be taken lightly. She confronted the ruthless assassin, de-banana'd her, slammed her into the batting cage, and was now applying a stepover toe-hold to the 83-year old killer granny's windpipe. Cousin Hester slapped a three-count on the dugout steps, declaring a win in one fall. The crowd went wild, swarming the dugout to celebrate Jenny's takedown. Everyone was cheering and clapping, and Uncle Dwayne took the opportunity to pat Fellatio's bum. Nephews Bald Kevin and Short Kevin handcuffed The Scrunt, and decided that cutting off her ear might put a damper on things. Instead, they spent a minute or two doing some fairly impressive Japanese-type moves that they had seen in The Karate Kid, then whacked The Scrunt with a batting helmet and called the police.

Meantime, Nephew Sherwood had discovered Aunt Chantelle hiding in her room. As the cranky old broad was dragging herself out from under the bed, Sherwood brought some balance to this portion of the narrative by experiencing some momentary feelings of genuine sympathy for his second Aunt, who had just lost her brother a few days ago and was now the last surviving Green (of the Saskatoon Greens). But he reminded himself that this old hag under the bed had hired a liverspotted Serb grandmother to try and murder his soulmate Hester. Sherwood called his sister Myra, a nurse, on her cellphone. "Meet me on the ball field, Myra. Bring your special stuff."

Cousin Myra knew just what the situation called for. She pumped enough turkey gravy up Chantelle's hoop that she would smell like Christmas dinner for all of this life and most of the next. Exactly why Myra had packed six litres of turkey gravy to a family reunion isn't clear yet, but I suppose all of us Greens have a few secrets.

Thursday, August 05, 2010

Green Family Reunion: more trauma

In our haste to protect our friend and relative Hester from the legal implications of Bloody Friday, we had completely forgotten about Aunt Chantelle. Chantelle is the late Uncle Preston's only surviving sister, and as we now realize she held an uncommon affection for her brother. Preston was a dickwad, and it should have occurred to us that Chantelle would possess some genetic dickwaddery of her own.

We were reminded of our oversight at Tuesday's dinner when Aunt Chantelle showed up with a companion who she claimed was a second cousin visiting from Prague, and was thus a family member who deserved to be welcomed warmly to our fold. Chantelle introduced her as Cousin Gilda, saying she had bumped into Gilda while they were both playing mini-golf earlier, and was so struck by her physical resemblance that she introduced herself, confirmed a connection to Grandpa Emile in the Balkans, yadda yadda, and now here we are.

Fortunately, we Greens are not easily fooled. Almost to a person, the rest of us at dinner noticed that Aunt So-Called Gilda was missing the noble Green overbite, and that the spots on her face looked less like playful freckles than a swarm of malignant potholes devouring her saggy, sour, dishonest face. Cousin Scoobie had already saved the day once by providing a lovely outboard coffin for Uncle Preston's departure, and he was about to save it again by drawing on his experience as an embalmer. As he watched Chantelle and Gilda engage in what can only be called conspiratorial whispering after dinner, it suddenly dawned on him where he had seen Gilda before. Quickly and quietly he slipped out of the large hospitality room and and went off to confirm his suspicions.

At breakfast the next morning, we immediately noticed that three of our number were missing: Aunt Chantelle, Aunt So-Called Gilda, and Cousin Hester The Uncle Killer. I immediately ran to Hester's room, knocked on her door, and was relieved to find her alive. She explained that she had had too many S'mores and tequila at the previous night's Koombaya Bonfire Songfest, and had projectile vomited into her suitcase, ruining all her clothes and preventing her from attending breakfast. I lent her a small but rather fetching pup tent (Hester is as big as a bear), and brought her back to the rest of the family at the breakfast table. Once we were settled, Cousin Scoobie revealed his chilling findings. Cousin So-Called Gilda, it seems, is none other than the notorious Serbian sniper and gangland hitperson Ludmilla "The Scrunt" Cankle-Frottage, who had been the scourge of innocent Bosnians during the unpleasantries of 1993, and who brought her killing ways to North America at the close of the war. Most recently, she had made her living as a hired killer for the Mafia, and it was Scoobie's experience embalming her victims that had brought him into contact with the Police, who had been hunting for The Scrunt throughout North America for over a decade, and who had conveniently provided Scoobie with an 8" x 10" print of The Scrunt for his crime wall.

There was no time to lose. Hester's life was in danger, and a deranged killer was on the loose. We had to act quickly. Nephew Sherwood had always struck me as a bit 'lighter than air', if you will, going to church services dressed as Carmen Miranda, juggling coconuts on the bus, and composing an entire opera for his hamsters. But he warmed to the role of Hester's Defender as though he were born to it. On the spot, he conscripted Nephews Bald Kevin and Short Kevin, two fit and eager accomplices, promising to convert them into crazed, zombie-like assassins who would deliver the left ear of The Scrunt to our family of Greens by tomorrow (he chose left ear rather than heart because it fits in a Ziploc snack bag and isn't as gross). Sherwood and the two Kevins sprang into action, rushing off to clear a secret room in the resort's laundry area where the newly christened Scrunt's Ear Gang could practice their 'shooty-killy routines' as they called them.

Last night's dinner was a sombre affair. Aunts Chantelle and So-Called Gilda were missing, of course, and Cousin Hester was subdued, knowing not only that she was an assassin's target but she still carried a faint but distinct aura of tequila and S'mores puke about her. But more than that, we were burdened by our own reluctance to discuss the absences of Nephew Sherwood, Nephew Bald Kevin and Nephew Short Kevin, The Scrunt's Ear Gang, for fear of inadvertently spilling the beans and revealing our nefarious plans to some unknown accomplice of The Scrunt or Aunt Chantelle who may have infiltrated the room. So we all gathered in a small group at one table, feeling nervous and apprehensive and talking with feigned enthusiasm about tomorrow's Miss Green Family Bikini Pageant, which was usually the highlight of any Green family Reunion, but promised to be overshadowed by the bloodbath that was about to take place.

Tuesday, August 03, 2010

Green Family Reunion: the new babies

During our occasional Green Family reunions, Tuesday is traditionally set aside for the Green Family Baby Pageant. And, what a departure from our previous reunion in 2007 when there were 17 new Green offspring under a year of age. This year, we managed just three! But they were little cuties just the same, even including cousin Elizabeth's baby Wanda who can hardly be expected to take the blame for not being emptied prior to the Photo Session. Creative little Wanda discovered that side-to-side rocking was sufficient to expel generous portions of her suffocating poop through the leg openings of her diaper.

Second Cousin Jennifer volunteered an interesting take on the lack of procreation since the last Green Family Reunion. An active and aggressive slut with substance abuse issues, Jenny's looks are leaving her faster than the flies are arriving. But she had been passably attractive as recently as last year, and was quick to assure all of us that the lack of babies was not for lack of fornication amongst the Green females. Rather, she expressed disappointment in the male Greens whose lusty urges were intact, but whose overuse of steroids and growth hormones were preventing them from being much use at all in the sack. Jennifer even speculated that this might be the last crop of babies we see at a Green reunion.

On that sobering note, the photo session went considerably longer as we contemplated the diminishing presence of Green newborns in tomorrow's world. It also provided Wanda with a chance to dig out every last morsel of poop in her diaper, and create a shit diorama of staggering scope and energy.

Later this week is the Miss Green Family Beauty Pageant, always a treat, and as usual the frisky male Greens can hardly wait to ogle at their sisters, nieces, cousins and daughters. I'm pleased to report that Cousin Hester's recent travails have forced her to reconsider competing. She has promised to look after the deep fried Mars Bar concession instead, which is much more suited to her talents. The unpleasant images and events surrounding the passing and dramatic departure of Uncle Preston seem to have faded quickly, although I must admit feeling that there is an ominous sense of foreboding that seems to accompany all our family events: the midget toss, the three-legged race and the Parcheesi tournament all seem to have had an air of uncertainty about them.

There goes my imagination. I'll be sure to give you another update later in the week, so stay tuned.

Sunday, August 01, 2010

Green Family Reunion: early trauma

Every few years, the Greens get together to tell stories, compare babies, let their hair down, and ingest intoxicating chemicals more or less constantly. Mrs. Green and I arrived at the Tidal Flats Family Reunion Campsite a day later than most, which meant we were immersed in the details of Uncle Preston's murder from the moment we arrived. Consensus among the earlier arrivals was that no one saw it coming, least of all Uncle Preston. No one, that is, except my second cousin Hester, who had already planned to make Preston's evisceration a top priority of her reunion experience. She killed him just after dinner on Friday evening.

Hester is an interesting character. She is the daughter of my Dad's cousin Pussy Willow, and she actually entered this world as a male, named Bruno. It was not until Bruno was in his mid-30's, already a pretty accomplished Stevedore, lifting refrigerators and gas tanks onto tugboats destined for the Arctic, that he began to examine his sexuality. He quickly decided he was a delicate female flower trapped inside the body of a sweaty, hairy gorilla who enjoys the taste of oil and breaks rocks with his teeth. Once his mind was made up, he (Bruno) became she (Hester) following a blitzkrieg of life-altering surgical procedures last fall. Most of us agree that she has yet to refine some of the subtleties that separate the graceful swan-like creature she imagines herself to be from the lumbering Yeti-like hillbilly that she has been for most of her life, but all of us still harbour a great affection for our cousin. Still, maybe those differences provide a few clues to the demise of Uncle Preston that threatened to be such an immediate distraction to the festivities.

In fairness, I should provide a word or two about Uncle Preston. He was a complete tool. He was generally unliked by every Green he ever met. Preston was in the habit of making people feel small by pointing out flaws in their appearance (something that is easy to do, given the shallowness of the Green gene pool). If he couldn't find a physical flaw, he would insult their pets, or scorn them for enjoying disco whether they listened to it or not. He talked like a pirate, believing that "Ar-r-r-r" was easily the funniest thing anyone could say. Privately, I would say that Hester quickly became the most popular Green in Tidal Flats last week. There has already been talk of staging an impromptu Disco Tribute for Hester next week.

In order to keep the party atmosphere from being too severely dampened, the Greens who had arrived by the time Preston was murdered quickly decided to bury him at sea and get back to the fun. Cousin Scoobie, the undertaker, had fortunately left a promotional casket in his van when he left for the reunion, so they were able to launch him on Saturday morning's early ebb tide with about an hour's worth of gas. They calculated the prevailing winds and tides would carry him in a more or less SSW heading after the gas ran out, so we're hopeful that he will be in Mexico in time for Labour Day.

I must apologize for beginning this narrative on such a sombre note. Things are bound to lighten up as the reunion progresses, and I'll be sure to post another account in a few days. Meantime, we have been listening carefully to see if Preston's journey to the Baja Peninsula has been intercepted by the Coast Guard. As long as we don't hear anything, none of us can see any reason why we would put a damper on our reunion by informing the police. Besides, Hester is scheduled to prepare her stunning Chicken Cordon Bleu dinner on Wednesday, and we're already stocking up on plastic knives and forks for that not-to-be-missed feast. See you soon.