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So, apparently things in my family have gotten really bad while I've been at college these past few weeks. My cousins' mother (we don't really consider her our "aunt") is in jail again--this time for forging checks. Brandy has given away her child to the guy she used babysit for. Just left a note and left the kid there. Now it is in the care of social services--we are not likely to see him again. Meanwhile Brandy and Travis are staying with their friend in Anderson, and their little brother, Devon, the shy little kid with poison ivy who didn't learn how to talk until he was like, seven years old, is no where to be found.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Saga of Brandy and Travis, I'm sorry. I can't explain it here. It is a very long, very sad tale. And we all hate Sharen (their mother, and my deceased but beloved uncle's widow) for it. Hate her from the very bottom of our souls.
Anyway, thanks to my grandmother's neighbors, who are complete assholes who tortured my uncle Bill, simply because he looked weird (he was nearly beaten to death by several cops for a crime he didn't comit, then sent to jail for said crime.. So his face is permanently screwed up. As is his memory) Bill now can't live at my grandma's. Where he was living so he could take care of her because she is so sick. He is now living under a bridge in Indianapolis. And the guy living next to my grandma still shines the spotlight in her bedroom window so she can't sleep out of pure vindictiveness. Everyone in my family has been daydreaming about what they want to do to this guy. Emily want's to egg his house, Dad wants to set it on fire. Me? I want to calmly walk up to him, smile sweetly and say:
"I realize it must have been scarey living next to someone who is so different from you. And I see that it is not possible for your tiny brain and shriveled soul to come up with one ounce of understanding and compassion. So I hope that after you die, you awake to find yourself living in the most peaceful, beautiful neighborhood you can imagine. A neighborhood without people with screwed up faces, or sad pasts, or regretable mistakes. A neighborhood where you can sleep well at night knowing you are in the safest place there is. And then slowly, your neighbors will turn on you. They will hate and fear you, they will leave no doubt of their disgust and revulsion towards you. And there will be no peace, no matter how you try to convince them of how good and deserving of kindness you are, no matter how you deny the evil deeds they accuse you of, they will never let up. And one day, when your wife and children have left you, and you cannot leave the house without the people around you sneering at you, and spitting on you, you will sit in your perfect house alone and despairing, and you will realize that this is what hell is."
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Saga of Brandy and Travis, I'm sorry. I can't explain it here. It is a very long, very sad tale. And we all hate Sharen (their mother, and my deceased but beloved uncle's widow) for it. Hate her from the very bottom of our souls.
Anyway, thanks to my grandmother's neighbors, who are complete assholes who tortured my uncle Bill, simply because he looked weird (he was nearly beaten to death by several cops for a crime he didn't comit, then sent to jail for said crime.. So his face is permanently screwed up. As is his memory) Bill now can't live at my grandma's. Where he was living so he could take care of her because she is so sick. He is now living under a bridge in Indianapolis. And the guy living next to my grandma still shines the spotlight in her bedroom window so she can't sleep out of pure vindictiveness. Everyone in my family has been daydreaming about what they want to do to this guy. Emily want's to egg his house, Dad wants to set it on fire. Me? I want to calmly walk up to him, smile sweetly and say:
"I realize it must have been scarey living next to someone who is so different from you. And I see that it is not possible for your tiny brain and shriveled soul to come up with one ounce of understanding and compassion. So I hope that after you die, you awake to find yourself living in the most peaceful, beautiful neighborhood you can imagine. A neighborhood without people with screwed up faces, or sad pasts, or regretable mistakes. A neighborhood where you can sleep well at night knowing you are in the safest place there is. And then slowly, your neighbors will turn on you. They will hate and fear you, they will leave no doubt of their disgust and revulsion towards you. And there will be no peace, no matter how you try to convince them of how good and deserving of kindness you are, no matter how you deny the evil deeds they accuse you of, they will never let up. And one day, when your wife and children have left you, and you cannot leave the house without the people around you sneering at you, and spitting on you, you will sit in your perfect house alone and despairing, and you will realize that this is what hell is."
