My brother and I spent several days constructing a large pit for Michelle to fall into when she came for Christmas. It was so deep that both of us could stand in it without being seen. We then made a leafy cover over some twigs we assembled and put this on top. If you stepped on it surely it would collapse and horrible Michelle would fall to her death. This was our plan and we had executed it perfectly. Michelle was pretty benign at this time but we didn’t like her because my Grandmother doted on her and she was Ruths’ daughter. And we hated Ruth so Michelle fell into this category as well. She didn’t receive old childrens clothes at Christmas, she got violin lessons. Bitch. So plunge to her death she would. Unfortunately, Mom found the hole and made us fill it back up. She did laugh at our plan however.
We didn’t see Michelle for a while. Then one day I got a call from Mom when I was 19. I was working and she called to tell me my Aunt Joy had lost her husband, my Uncle Gene. I like Uncle Gene, he looked like the bass player in Fleetwood Mac and I was certain he was on drugs. This somehow made me love him even more. His death, from drugs and alcohol was very sad news. Aunt Joy knew I played the guitar. “Can you play ‘Time in a Bottle’ at Uncle Gene’s funeral?,” mother asked. “Mom, I play the bass guitar so NO,” I replied. At the funeral my Aunt hired some homeless man to do the honors and he was drunk. He forgot the song and kept playing the chorus over and over. My dad and I exchanged glances which meant, “when will this end.” At the end of the funeral we all had to shuffle by Uncle Gene’s coffin. Michelle, who I didn’t recognize, was in line in front of us. She was now a goth girl. She proceeded to make a HUGE scene over the casket. She was so bizarre that now the focus was on her. She moved forward, then back, waving her arms and crying. I don’t even know if she ever liked my Uncle. It was certainly the most memorable funeral ever. And also somewhat scary. Too bad we had to fill in that pit.