The Autoharp and Gun

The Autoharp and Gun

Sigh, the Creepy Christmas Autoharp in full glory.

My ‘aunt’ Ruth, not a real aunt but some crazy woman adopted by my grandmother when Ruth was pregnant and 18 years old. Now she was older and  morbidly obese. This was during a period when it was just my single mother, my brother and myself. Thus, we lived in a relatively small rented house. All the relatives descended, uninvited, every Christmas day. No food in hand, so Mom had to make everything. Ruth would sit in the middle of the living room, blocking everyone from moving around, and play her wretched autoharp and sing Christmas carols. I found the entire situation quite appalling. Everyone ignored her. Except me.

Fast forward. Mom remarried and it’s Christmas again. My father, Larry, asked for a gun for Christmas. He was a Marine when he was younger and likes to go shooting. Ruth is sitting in the middle of the living room at our new house. With the damn autoharp. She recently had a “nervous breakdown” whatever that meant. Perhaps she tried dieting and failed miserably. Larry and I were the only ones in the living room with her so I suggested that he show her his new present. She was thrilled. “Yes, please show me.” He came out with a gun that looked like an assault rifle and she started to twitch. Now I was thrilled..

Advertisements

About Cynthia

I'm a little crazy but who isn't? I enjoy writing about my many odd experiences and my perception is really altered by time, age, and drugs. Not really but it sounds cool. I'm from Los Angeles and moved to North Carolina. I don't like culture shock but it happens anyway.
Image | This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s