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.

10 comments:

Duncanr said...

Brilliant - looking forward to reading 'what happened next'

kirby said...

How thoughtful of Hester, to provide all of you with a topic of conversation for the reunion. Most families have to watch a lot of football in order to avoid talking.

Rattling On said...

I have a friend with an Uncle Julie. Most confusing but so very modern.

nursemyra said...

Have to admire someone who travels with a promotional casket in their van

Cooper Green said...

Thanks, Dunc, and if you can't wait then we Greens are more like paralyzed with anticipation. I mean, who's going to pay for Preston's room, for Pete's sake?

Kirby, that's why we love her. She creates stories. And corpses, of course, but then everything has a price.

Uncle Julie; short for Julius? Maybe you're an Aunt Rattling, Rattling, and that would impress me even more.

Great observation, Myra. The death business is competitive as hell (maybe not hell ... but you know). I mean, who do you suppose came up with the idea of being buried with your cell phone? Probably the same guy who designed this casket.

Joanne Casey said...

Something tells me you're not enjoying this family reunion, Coop.

Cooper Green said...

You couldn't be more wrong, Joanne! Given that I wasn't murdered, and there aren't any more on the agenda so far, this is turning out to be the most entertaining reunion in decades. It's awesome!

bschooled said...

Well, I see where you get your dashing looks (and possible cankles?) from.

Anyway, I'm really looking forward to finding out what happens next, Cooper. And I'm not just saying that because IMO pirate talk (dead or not) is one of the top three funniest talks out there. (Behind smack talk and talk like a Stevedore, of course).

Cooper Green said...

Bea, if we combine the two words you have introduced to an unsuspecting world this week, we are left to struggle with the images evoked by cankle frottage. Personally, I'm dry heaving. Unattractive people in sexual congress ... whoops, I've decorated myself in pre-chewed s'mores. You have a dangerous vocabulary. Thanks for that.

Joanne Casey said...

Glad to hear it Coop!