Aunt Becky Came For Tea, But All I Had Was Tequila

A little backstory for those who aren’t in the know:   Aunt Becky is having a contest to determine who does the wackiest, weirdest things with her leftover business cards.   Herewith is my entry.   No animals or children were harmed in the creation of this entry, but I think a few elderly people at the zoo might have had to take a nitro pill.  What?  It was a frickin’ hot day.  Just ask Lola.  (Go here to see what else those naughty business cards have been doing.)

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One day in early August, Aunt Becky showed up at my door.  She was jet-lagged from all her travels, and, truth be told, a little hungover.   It was hard to understand her at first, because she was just so dang tired.    Realizing that verbal communication was beyond her capabilities at the moment, she started writing me notes:

It took me a while to realize that  the WTF stood for “Want Tequila Fool!”, but once we got past that and she had downed a few shots, we were good to go. 

She told me she wanted to bake a cake. 
  

Yes, Aunt Becky, you can lick the beaters.

 So we did.

Yes, we ran out of frosting. Shut up!

After we finished baking, we decided to call Lola.  Lola said that she had it on good authority that the local zoo was trying to hire out their monkeys as butlers.  Well, Aunt Becky was all over that and we made plans to go pick out some new domestic servants to ship back to Chicago.  

When we got there, the zookeepers told us that if we could tag the monkey’s ass with a card, we could have him.   Unfortunately, the only mammal we were able to tag was my kid. 

Get it off me, Mom!

I told Aunt Becky that Cenzo could fling poo better than any monkey, but she said she had enough anklebiters of her own, so she thought he should stay with me.   She also muttered something about me trying to get her to potty-train him, but maybe that was just the tequila talking again.  

To his credit, Cenzo tried valiantly to get this monkey to agree to an all-expense paid trip to Chicago.

She's really nice, and she serves banana splits ALL the time.

Frustrated that the damn dirty apes wouldn’t cooperate, Aunt Becky decided she was going to steal this sign for her front her lawn:

Get off my lawn, you brats!

That Aunt Becky is stronger than she looks:

*grunt* I just need to get this last screw out.

She told us to cause a distraction so she could smuggle the sign out in her purse.    So Lola decided to feed my children to the wild man-eating yaks.  Because, as the tattoo says, Lola loves her Aunt Becky.

Don't worry, kids, you can out-run them!

Fortunately for the children, but unfortunately for Aunt Becky, the zookeepers were on to our schemes, so she didn’t get the sign, and my children were not yak-food.    Saddened that we weren’t able to procure either a monkey butler nor a kick-ass lawn sign, Aunt Becky made one last ditch effort and tried to steal the flamingos.

 

Flamingos? What flamingos?

I’m sworn to secrecy regarding the success or failure of that mission.

After parting ways with Lola, we returned home to rest up for our next big adventure:   attending a graduation in downtown Boston in the middle of a tropical storm and Big Teddy K’s funeral.   Does Aunt Becky know how to party or what?

Summa cum laude? Oh, I thought you said something different. My bad.

All too soon, it was time for Aunt Becky to depart.  She realized that she’d left her extra undies somewhere in Indiana, so we dashed off to the store for some new lingerie.

Sweet nothings? I don't think so.

Then we stopped off at the bakery to fortify ourselves with cannolis, for how can one weep when one has a box of the world’s best Italian pastries as company for the ride home?  

Cannolis, and tiramisu, and biscotti - oh my!

One can’t.  Aunt Becky was dry-eyed and covered in confectioner’s sugar when I put her on the plane back to Chicago.  

The End.