“It’s here!” Annie screamed.

I was afraid, and normally Annie screams that several times a day.   Annie is an internet junky, she watches tv on the internet, plays games, chats to people, (thank god she hasn’t taken to twitter yet, but it’s coming she is still thinking up a good twitter handle and she wants to be a little more famous) and she shops.    Every cent she makes she spends but most of the stuff, she buys, is from her poop factory so I guess it works out okay.   Anyways, she is ‘it’s here!ing all day long.   But it was the tone…it was the tone…

The tone she had when her Sea Monkeys arrive.    You know those ones you put in a tank of water and they never grow very big and just sort of look like an odd shaped boogers floating around in the tank.   The ones that look great on the comic book page and the tank doesn’t even have one of those cool looking castles in the back.

Yes, I agreed to it.   I mean first of all she would have either pestered me non stop until I said yes or she would have ‘accidently’ ordered them anyways.   I figured the quicker she ordered them the quicker she would forget to feed the floating boogers and let the water dry up and it would be over.    One way or another sea monkeys were in our future.

Well Annie ordered See Monkeys as opposed to Blind Monkeys she would have gotten the blind ones because she liked their glasses but they were all out, so she took the See Monkeys and made them wear glasses until their eye were so bad they needed them.    There were four of them, Butch was the dad, he wore a bow tie and suspenders, then Minnie, his wife, who as promised was expecting, and the twins Bert and Gert.

So when she yelled, “It’s here!” in that tone, I got scared especially since she had not asked about any major purchases lately….like the St. Bernard puppy she got so Dinyell’s dog would have a friend to play with when he comes over to play with Annie Jr. daily(oddly she is not allergic to either of those dogs).   Or the Llama she could not live without.    Or the snowmobile she keeps driving around in the back yard in a bathing suit because it is 90 degrees outside; so I was worried.

And then she comes in rolling herself awkwardly towards me in a wheel chair.   “Annie for god sakes really?   You bought that?” I sputtered in disbelief.

“No, I got it free!” she announced.

Free?  Something was fishy and I looked at her quizzically.

“My insurance, Slam, you idiot.   My insurance paid for it.”

“But you have to be disabled to get it,” I said.

“I am that is why I have  a scooter but I can’t ride my scooter anymore.”

“Why? Run it into a ditch again, Annie?” I asked sarcastically.

“No I have ass-troids.”

“Asteroids?  Those things in space?”

“No ass-troids those big zits on your butt?”

“Annie really?”

“Yes I got them from my scooter seat so I have this cool wheelchair and it has a nice comfy pillow for me to sit on and it goes faster than my scooter!”

“Faster?  Annie you are barely moving it now….” then….”Show her Annie Jr!”

Then Annie Jr comes in on another wheel chair except hers has handle bars like a bike and she races past me with it, the wind whipping my hair and the wheels crunching over my toes.

Then Annie pulls out a set of handles bars attaches them to her wheel chair and they are both zooming around the room.   “Wait, Annie I can believe you are disabled because you are as fat as a tick, and although Annie Jr resembles a beach ball with ears and a tail, she seems to run around the house like a nut ball just fine.”

“Slam she is disabled.   She doesn’t know her colors!  Watch,” Annie holds up a red piece of paper and Annie asks Annie Jr. what color it is and Annie Jr. answers red.   “Wrong!” Annie screams, “I’ve told you 18 times it’s yellow!”  “You told me it was green yesterday.” Annie Jr. screamed back.  “Why did you say red then? Besides it was green yesterday not today!”   Annie looks at me and says, “Disabled!”

I sighed deeply and I hear Annie screaming, “Ready Bat Cat?”

“The Super Dogs will be here soon!” Annie Jr. screams.

I turn around and both of them are dressed in Batman costumes.   The through the front door comes Kiko and Lars wearing Superman costumes also driving wheel chairs with handle bars.

“They aren’t disabled!” I scream.

“Kiko is Slam…he’s a zombie for god sakes!”

“Lars isn’t!”

“Lars bought his with Aunt Dinyell’s magic card!”

I slap my head.    Last week, Lars bought a six story dog house with Aunt Dinyell’s magic card and now they use it as a some sort of club house.   It’s really nice though big screen TV’s an indoor pool, a maid and chef.

“What’s with the wheel chairs?” I ask knowing I probably shouldn’t.

“The Foiler Fake Food Race!”  screamed Annie like I should have known.

I look at her with a confused look and she says, “My factory has been sponsoring this race for like the last 75 years.   They have been advertising it on tv for weeks!”

“Annie I never heard of it and you have not even been in business for 75 years,” I insisted.

“Haven’t I Slam?   Annie clones have been reproducing for the last gazillion years.   All of us were feral living under the steps of a trailer and we all had poop factories.”

I look at Annie not sure whether to believe her or not.   She continues, “The Foiler Faker Food Race is a race, but you have to have a scooter, or a wheel chair or a wagon with an oar, you can’t run walk or crawl. And you have to wear a costume.   The winner gets a Foiler Faker Food Face.”

“What’s that?” I ask not really wanting to know.

“An intestine pie in the face…this year is buzzard guts. Yum Yum! And then after the race, we have a big picnic and party in the poop factory court yard.”

“It’s a huge money maker. People come from all over the world to be in the Foiler Faker!”

“How long is it?”  I asked.

“It’s a 15Y!”

“Y?” I ask

“Yards!”  Annie answers like I am an idiot.

“Yards? People come to wheel 15 yards dressed in a costume to win a pie full of guts in their face?”

“YES!” Annie screams.

Just then the phone rings and Annie yells…”Gotta go Slam!”  They all wheel out the door.   Annie is going on about Moose Made to drink and buckets of birds and how she so needs to win this year.   I answer the phone.   It’s my brother, Sigh.   “I had to drive a bus load of racers down for the Foiler Faker, if you want to come see me.”   I hang up the phone, as a helicopter passes over head, I look out the window and see thousands of people in costumes on scooters, chairs with ski poles, one guy balancing his butt on a roller skate propelling himself with a rake, hundreds of shopping carts, then the tv begins coverage on the race and the poop factory that no one ever goes into and no one comes out of and how Annie could make a zillion dollars if she put 5 golden tickets into poop candy and allow five people into the factory.

People go into her factory all the time.   She has those illegal refugee cats working in her factory and all of her clones, and Janey and Snoopy…I am so confused.   My phone starts screaming “It’s me Annie pick up the phone Slam!” “Hello,” I sigh wearily.

“It’s me Annie!”

“I know Annie.”

“Psychic Slam?  I won! I won the race!”  Annie screams.

“Cool Annie.”

“Listen I am thinking about letting a few people into the factory.  I know, I know I worry about Jackie Nermal trying to steal my ideas which is the reason I closed it in the first place 75 long years ago but, I think it’s time. Time to end the nobody goes in Nobody comes out.  I was thinking golden tickets in some poop candy.”

“Annie people are in and out all day long.   You give tours at $150 a pop!”

“Fake News Slam,” Annie screams.

And then I hear the newscaster screaming.   “Buy poop candy and you might find a golden ticket which enables you to an exclusive tour of the magical poop factory. ”

I turn the tv off climb into bed and cover my head.   Here we go  I think!

 

 

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