Monday, June 21, 2010

YOU'RE IN for a treat, Nana.

CHAPTER 3: The revengening

So, here we are. Kinda the end of the Nana saga. I guess there are more stories I could tell about her. Enough to fill a book probably. Wouldn't that be a wonderful read to take on vacation with you? "Honey, are we going to swim with the dolphins today or are you just gonna sit there and read about that kid's Nana's pussy hair all day?" Mmmmm, Nana pubes. In my house we actually referred to her as the "Tooth Hairy" because when she would stay over we'd always mysteriously wake up with curly, pubic hair on our lips the next morning. Gee, I wonder how that happened? Okay, okay, you're used to my formula by now so surely you know that was made up. But this next story is one hundred percent true and I remember it vividly. No "dreamlike" vague shit here.

Nana, for all her flaws, was at least always the life of the party. Yes as a grown man now I can see she was the kind of person you would hate to have at your party because she was so loud and just wanted so much attention, but as a child I kind of admired it. I liked to hear the grown ups having fun in the other room, and I could always tell she was at the center of it somehow. Of course, the grown ups always had alcohol at every gathering. My Dad drank vodka. My mom, compari and soda or a kir royale. Nana loved champagne. Cheap, shit champagne. It was brand called "Great Western" but she acted like it was fucking Kristal. Each popping of the cork was celebrated with a howl and she insisted that my mom pull out the super expensive imported crystal flutes for this nasty swill. Nana was indeed a walking contradiction herself so it makes sense. Often times, as the slaves, I mean children of the household, my brothers and I were called upon to fetch drinks for the in-laws. As a real young kid I didn't mind, but when I started getting old enough to not care about pleasing these assholes I resented it. One summer day, when I was about 11, the adult gathering took place in our covered porch. I remember very clearly watching TV with my brother when we got the call to fetch another round of drinks. We were so annoyed. Of course, we were just so angry in general all the time. How could we not be? But, by this time we were no longer easy, vulnerable prey for Nana so we were left alone physically. Mentally, however, we were still tortured. But we started to rise against it in our own subtle ways. Just by simply not fully accepting Nana's bullshit as we used to was a rebellion to us. We knew at this point that she was not normal. I put it mildly because we didn't really know just how fucked up she was. I mean, when you grow up with that as normal behavior in your house, you think it's normal. But then you venture out a little bit. You see how your friend's families interact and you think "hmmm, something's definitely up with Nana." We thought she was eccentric, but we also just resented and hated her without fully realizing quite why (hmm, repressed memories perhaps?). But back to the summer day. After we were called upon to bring a round of drinks from the kitchen, my brother and I dutifully collected the empty glasses and took orders. Nana, of course, wanted her delicious champagne. So off to the kitchen we went. I was pouring Nana's champagne when my brother suggested we do something to it. He was much older than me and thus could usually manipulate me into doing anything. On this particular afternoon, however, I needed no mind games to make me do what I was about to do. I asked my brother "what should we do?" His answer was so beautiful in its simplicity: "Piss in it." At that very moment my life changed. It's like I suddenly saw through different eyes. YES! Let's fucking piss in it. God my brother was so awesome. My hero. What a great idea. I would follow him into hell. Or, in this case, out of it. And so it was set in stone like one of the commandments. Thou shalt urinate in thy molesting grandmother's drink. But who would do it? Well, naturally since it was his idea, I would have to be the one to execute it. I was happy to do it. We snuck outside behind the kitchen with Nana's glass of champagne. It was early evening and it was still light out so our neighbor may have seen us, but I didn't care. My brother held the glass in his shaking (from hysterically laughing) hands and I, well, I pissed in it. Not too much so as to be obvious, but also not too little so as to be innocuous. It was a little less than half piss and half champagne. It was Champiss. And I fucking happily served it her. I handed it to her and walked away a new man. A man barely able to contain his laughter as she happily declared "ooooh a big one!" A big one indeed, you dumb bitch. Choke on it.


1 comment:

Spanish Johnny said...

Champiss is hard to top. But here it goes:

(1) Pisstal
(2) Dom Urinenon
(3) Dom Peeingon Nana's Champagne Flute
(4) Champagne (With Piss From My Grandson's) Cock-tail