Make Me a Promise, Beloved Readers

If Mack kills me, I will make every effort to haunt him for the rest of his natural life and then I will follow him around the afterlife glaring at him.

But let’s assume that there is no afterlife or that I’m busy making sweet love to Alfred the Great or Ethlred the Unready or whoever; dear reader, I beseach you–please haunt his ass.

Every time he posts anything on his blog, you just comment, “How nice, Aunt B. killer.” or “Wow, look, even people who kill Aunt B. can make reasonable points.  Interesting.”

Really, I see no other way to ensure my safety when I’m with him.  Yesterday, he strapped me to a machine as large and angry as a wild boar and set me off uncontrollably down a giant mountain filled with pot holes, jagged bear traps, and broken glass shards while he laughed maniacly and sped around me in ever tightening circles, threatening, at any second, to ram into me and send me in a giant, crying, frightened blob of terror into the raging river that runs through his estate where I would drown until I was dead.

And then, once we got to the bottom of the almost sheer cliff, he heckled and mocked me until I was forced to drive the four-wheeler back up the mountain where he then let his kids laugh at me.

I honestly cannot believe people do that for fun.  Well, I get that making fun of me can be good fun.  But riding four-wheelers around?


I don’t understand it.

It was so scary I think I screamed the whole time and kept shutting my eyes, which, really, is a terrible, terrible idea when you’re the one driving a giant piece of machinery around some dude’s lawn.

I was on the four-wheeler for probably five minutes and yet, I think I aged twenty five years.

On the other hand, Mack fed me tamales, which I had never had before, which were awesome and yummy and I liked them.  Though, it was difficult to eat them as I was still shaking with fear and crying.

5 thoughts on “Make Me a Promise, Beloved Readers

  1. Perhaps that is why one is traditionally encouraged to drink copious amounts of cheap beer in metallic-colored cans following an afternoon of four-wheeling.

  2. lololol!!! Oh my gosh…I am so glad you survived! Mack is a cruel, cruel dude. We must figure out something to put him through to equal the horror you have withstood.

    I am open to suggestions.

  3. Ginger, I was trying so hard to come up with something that I’m not afraid of that he is, but I swear other than being the weirdest bunch of chickenshits about wasps, they seem to be an unnaturally brave family.

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