Come, my followers. All three of you. Come and gather around the fire and listen to the tale of Auntie Wes. It is a story full of love, lust, broken hearts, and a possum. Come, I say. Sit a spell.
See, a long time ago Auntie Wes was young and full of life. Not like she is now....A decrepit old hag that is searching for stray cats to give a home to. No! Once Auntie Wes was carefree and looking for love. Like the country song says, it was in all the wrong places. But, she was looking none-the-less.
Well, one night Auntie Wes met a nice gentleman. We will call him Steve. Steve was 6 ft tall with curly black hair. His eyes were brown and he had a smile that was lined with the straightest, whitest teeth one has ever seen. He was what the old timers called a real looker. He was such a looker that Auntie Wes saw him and it was love at first sight.
Actually it was lust at first sight. But, they both start with the letter "l" and have been known to induce sweaty palms, the shakes, and gas. So, who really cares?
Auntie Wes was no slouch back then either. She had long, brown hair and legs that just went on for days. The men liked Auntie Wes and paid her a great deal of attention. Not like now-a-days, where the men only look at her long enough to ask her to put down the liquor bottle and escort her out of the store. Last time she got kicked out of the Piggly Wiggly, a man was nice enough to hand Auntie Wes back her wig that had been knocked off during the scuffle. And who said chivalry was dead?
But, I digress. Auntie Wes saw Steve at a party one night. It was a cookout celebrating the retirement of Old Kay. Old Kay had been a barmaid for 40 years. She finally decided to retire because she didn't have any good teeth left to use to open the beer bottles with. Steve was showing off his homemade tattoos that Bubba had put on him while they were cellmates in prison. Bubba and Steve were the best of friends. Steve kept saying how he couldn't wait for Bubba to get paroled and they could become roommates. Auntie Wes thought Steve was quite generous for opening up his home like that.
Auntie Wes saw Steve first. He was indicating the size of something with his hands when she made her way over to him. Right as Steve exclaimed, "Man! That thing was huge!" Auntie Wes caught his eye and smiled. He smiled back and offered her a drink. Over a shared pint of grape flavored MD 20/20 they talked about life, jail time, and NASCAR.
After a few hours of conversation, Steve proclaimed his devotion to Auntie Wes. Feeling the stirrings of love (along with at least a half a pint of MD 20/20) as well, Auntie Wes invited him back to her camper that she was staying in. It was a brand new used 1975 camper that was kept behind her cousin's single wide trailer.
"I just dig your Spud McKenzie shirt," slurred Auntie Wes.
"Thanks baby," Steve said. "So, tell me.....um, uh......."
"Wes."
"Right. Ahem, Wes. You lived here long? I mean, this is some nice digs you got."
"Not long." Auntie Wes informed him. "A couple of months. It's all I need right now."
As our two love birds began to get to know one another, there came a knock at the door.
"Are you expecting anyone?" Steve asked. Auntie Wes denied any knowledge of who could be at her door.
The newly formed couple began to pick up where they left off. Ignoring the bothersome noise, Steve began to fidget with Auntie Wes's bra snaps.
"Be careful." she warned.
"I got it. I got it." More fumbling. "What the hell is wrong with this thing? Is there a trick to it?"
"Nooooo. Damn it. Let me get it."
"No, I got it," a frustrated Steve said. "I've done this plenty of times."
"Apparently you haven't," Auntie Wes shot back. "Hurry up. I'm losing my buzz."
"Just....damn it! Turn around." Steve turned Auntie Wes around and snatched her shirt up over her head. "What the hell kind of bra is this? What are these? Hooks or snaps?"
"Get this cotton-pickin shirt off my head! I can't see a thing!" Auntie Wes shouted.
Another sound came from the other side of the door. Only this time it was a pounding.
"Who the hell is it?" Steve shouted.
"Don't you yell at my company," Auntie Wes stumbled around the small area that served as a kitchen/dining room/living room combo. "Who's there? I'll be right there. Dag-nabbit, you asshole! Get this shirt off my head. My arms are pinned in it."
"Well, if you just hold still, I would." Auntie Wes knocked into the cabinets, which in turn flew open. A frying pan fell on Steve's head.....knocking him out cold.
More pounding on the door. More screeching from Auntie Wes.
"Steve, now I mean it! Get this shirt off of my head. I ain't playing with you! Steve? Steve?!? Steeeeevvvvvvveeeeee!"
About the time Auntie Wes was figuring out how to wiggle her way out of her newly made straight jacket, Steve was coming to. He was bleeding from his nose and seemed a little out of it.
"What the hell did you do to me?" He demanded as Auntie Wes straightened out her shirt.
"Not a thing! You crazy fool! You have got to be the worst date a girl could ever get a hold of!"
While they stood there glaring at each other, another pounding came at the door. Furious, Steve flung it open.
"Ah, man. Ah, shit. Ah, damnit to holy hell and back." Another string of obscenities flew from Steve's mouth. But, in the interest of our story I'll stick to the basic cuss words.
"Who are you?" Auntie Wes asked the red head standing on her threshold.
"Don't worry about it," glared Red. "Steve, come on. I want to go. Now!"
"Who are you to be knocking on MY door and demanding MY man?" Screeched Auntie Wes.
"Your man?" Steve snorted. "Since when? I am a grown ass man! I do whatever I want whenever I want. I can do anything I want!"
"Really? You sure as hell couldn't get my bra undone, Mr. Man." Auntie Wes shot back. Turning to Red, she shouted, "Now the who the hell are you?!"
Grabbing Steve by the arm, Red drug him out of the camper. "I'm his wife," she exclaimed as she slammed the door shut.
Poor Auntie Wes. All she had wanted to do was find love amongst the crowd. With her head hung in sorrow; she cried drunken tears of broken heartedness. She stumbled blindly into the small bathroom to wash her face. As Auntie Wes reached for a towel in the closet, she grabbed a fury four-legged something.
Dear followers, I am not sure who screamed the loudest. Auntie Wes when she realized that she got a hold of one mean possum, or the possum when he realized he was gotten aholt. Needless to say, Auntie Wes ended up in the emergency room for rabies and the possum ended up six feet under.
I'm not sure where poor Steve ended up.
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