Unfortunately I must describe (another) event that to the casual observer will have brought serious doubt upon the classiness of my family and therefore myself.
Yesterday was my sisters Birthday and to my surprise, my sister, the etymologist, was sitting in the kitchen with my mother, the writer. After greetings and salutations and of course Happy Birthday, she enquired as to my progress at university for which I gave a brief report approx 15 minutes long.
My mother, the writer, complained to my sister, the etymologist about the continued phenomenon of 'curtain twitching' she endures. I asked her to elaborate and she mysteriously wavered a response. I have witnessed this myself and concluded how it is simply people observing us so that they can emulate us. My sister, the etymologist, enquired as to her work progress of my mother, the writer. I had a vested interested in her response also. This was no doubt in order for her to be better prepared for any embarrassing situation that may arise from her new 'productions', much like I was.
She informed us that more pamphlets were in the pipeline. Whilst I was and believe justifiably appalled about this news to the point which made my colon clench, I was astonished as to the topic; Alcohol Abuse! I demanded an immediate explanation and when questioned further about why she chose a topic so alien to her. She commented about having firsthand experience! I felt very sick inside. At which shockingly low points in her past made her resort to alcohol? As a master of observation I would have picked up of any clues! My sister, the etymologist, gave supporting nods. I was unimpressed by this also.
My father, the educator, returned from test driving a car very excited and immediately took to the local newspaper for car adverts which he showed my mother, the writer, who was not particularly interested. My father, the educator, had been talking about buying a new car. He now (clearly) needed a vehicle that more defined his upgraded status, however, he announced that he will be reducing his hours at Jason Mega College. The reason simply stated as failure: no doubt that of his dense students and his frustration with them. I understand his decision though disappointed with knowing the shame of his defeat.
He then commented about an article relating to the appalling destruction of Woodwoods which had become local knowledge as the site is causing traffic problems. I thumbed through and whilst there was the usual dirge I found the small section. Apparently a suspect has been apprehended through evidence found in the car though they still are pursuing one other. It was alleged the crime had been committed by two young males, one who had a grudge against the shop after being fired but the involvement of drugs had made this crime more serious. There is now an effort to find this heinous creature.
As I was reading, my father, the educator, described the place being run by "wee stained old biddies" and being "dodgy" because of a time where he and my mother, the writer, had food which gave them both “the shits”.
I was shocked that I was not shocked by these latest revelations (not to mention appalling language) and feeling irritated I promptly left for my tasks of the day most notably that of being a street fighting lesson.
On a side note, from looking in the paper, I am also pleased to report that the shop keeper selling welsh dragon sausages has been intercepted by Trading Standards for falsely advertising.
However, it was the events of the following morning created a day that will live in infamy.
My sister, the etymologist has managed to bring substantial shame to my family by getting drunk and having sex with a stranger; but this was no stranger to me! She had gone out on the tiles to get smashed, which is somewhat excusable since it was her Birthday even if not very sophisticated. I had already altered my routine for post-university and was already awake and was in the kitchen contemplating a breakfast casserole of some design when I heard the sound of a familiar but at the time unidentifiable voice of a male and my sister giggling coming from the study. Uneasy of potential intruder considering the riff raff that I have encountered in our area lately I headed for a look. I was devastated by what I saw. It was the accommodating Jeremy from Woodwoods! Now referred to as ‘the offending Jeremy’ from now on! However, the following event is what revealed her sordid encounter to the prying neighbours.
I stood shocked and appalled but as they talked I noticed a squad of police taking positions outside of our home. The offending Jeremy reacted in such a way that he knew this was going to happen. My sister, the etymologist, surprised but confused asked why and he said it was about a car crash...but in a cake shop! Suddenly I became so angry I began to see white spheres! Damn it, curses, swine! Woodwoods was a delicatessen!
With this information I decided it best assist the police in apprehending this fiend and unleashed some street fighting moves upon Jeremy. He easily fell to his knees in front of me and a slight push put him on the floor face down. It was satisfying to know there will be no more handling of tarts for him!
At almost the exact moment, the police entered our house by means of ramming our front door down. The offending and rather scantily clad Jeremy was dragged out for all to see under a charge of intention to supply drugs. My sister, the etymologist, ran after protesting greatly with my mother, the writer and father, the educator, behind wanting to know what all the disruption was about.
By this time the pattern in the front lawn had been tarnished, the statues and a plant pot had been knocked over and the sick from someone was very visible on the drive. Many neighbours were out on the streets following the sights and sounds of the drama. I felt the shame raining down upon us, except myself and the police thanked me for helping to apprehend this evil character. I predict that the phenomenon of ‘Curtain Twitching’ will decrease significantly now that the image of my family has been tarnished.
Clearly, my sister, the etymologist, has appalling character judgement if she was not able to detect the criminal element within this person and oh my lord, how this monster has penetrated my domain!
I am confident that my own investigation would have lead to the same suspects, only the police with their better resources managed to be more efficient.
Is it possible my sister, the etymologist, was drugged into having sex with him? Oh my lord, what if he had been putting drugs into the products at Woodwoods! Any outrageous behaviour is no doubt a result of this.
Alternative Styles |
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