Annie sat at the table scribbling on a piece of paper.   She had an entire box of 988 crayons covering every inch of the table and several chairs.    “Where’s the blue, I can’t find an yellow.” she would scream occasionally.   Lately she was mixing up the use of an and a….you know an before a vowel or as Annie now said ‘an vowel.’ I was tired of correcting her.   Sometimes she would do things for a period of time, a couple years at least and then forget about it.   I was letting it go; for now.

“An slice of paper.  Give me an slice of paper.”   Annie cried, looking up from the piece  of paper she had set aside.

“Annie,  it’s a piece of paper.” I corrected.

“No.  Uncle Rov said slice.”

“Only about pizza.” I replied.

Annie rolled her eyes at me and held her paw out and hissed sarcastically,  “An piece of paper or is it A slice of paper?  Spelling police!”

I handed her a slice I mean; a piece of paper from the pile sitting right in front of her face.   Annie put a crayon up to her noses and smelled deeply.   “I love the mell of new crayons.   Don’t you Slam?”

“Yeah, I do,” I said, picking up a green colored crayon with orange color spots in it. “And it’s smell Annie, not mell.”

I smelled deeply and immediately gagged it was the worst smell in the world.  I looked at the wrapper and it said, “ravioli spotted, gross green vomit.” I set it down.   My eyes tearing.

Annie picked up another crayon and sniffed it, and screamed, “OMG this one stinks so bad!”  It was kind of a yellow and green striped crayon.  “Mell it Slam! Mell it!” Annie continued screaming trying to shove the crayon in my face.

“No,” I yelled trying to cover my face then Annie jumped on me and knocked both me and my chair over and shoved the crayon under my nose.   I knew she would not get off until I melled it, I mean smelled it.   I decided to just get it over with and I sniffed really loudly so Annie would hear me.   It smelled like a crayon.

Annie picked up a red and black mixed up crayon smelled it and stuck it under my nose with out a comment.   I smelled it before I even sniffed, it was even worse than the ravioli spotted gross green vomit.   I saw the wrapper and it said, ‘mangled rotted crow corpse’, I grabbed the one that smelled good and looked at the wrapper.   Figures; it said,’ new crayon’.

“Put that one in the bad mell box Slam,” Annie directed.

“It’s smell,” I muttered.   “What are you drawing anyway?”

I picked up one of the papers she had apparently finished and set aside.  It was a hand made invitation to Annie’s birthday announcing her special day in great big bold letters and in tiny small letters at the bottom it said, ” And Annie Jr.”

“Annie,” I began.   “Technically; you are dead so we would not have a party for you,” I wasn’t really worried, she only had three pieces of paper scribbled all over with her crooked backwards over huge letters, she had been sitting there 14 hours. I figured her big birthday bash would have tops six guests and hopefully, two of those would be me and Grandfather.

“You say happy birthday to your mom Slamma Aunt Loosewheels and she is dead; technically,” Annie argued.

“We don’t have a party for her,” I replied.

“You do!” Annie screamed, pointing a claw at me.  “We had it last year right at my mother’s house, Great Aunt Jodi Slamma Jr. Great Great!”

“That was a party for your mother,” I yelled.   “They were born on the same day.”

“Technically no they were NOT!   You there giving birth to my mother, the same day your grandmother was giving birth to your mother?  Was ya squatting out in the same corn field? Cause that is how they did it back then?   Huh Slam?” Annie shook her head.   “Technically YOU are a NOT a TRUMP SUPPORTER; that means illegible.  Stupid and illegible SLAM.”

I shook my head and poured a cup of real coffee before Annie realized I made it and dumped it out to make fresh sludge, she currently had 37 pots going.   The struggle to have one coffee pot for myself was real.   I decided to let it go.

“And technically,” Annie screamed not wanting to let it go, “I am NOT dead cause your stupid ugly face is yacking to me right now.”

“I talk to Asa your lawn mower ghost every day,” I screamed.   At that moment he floated in demanding his aigs and some corn mealing musk; that is how he requested eggs and corn meal mush for breakfast.   He said it stuck to his ribs even though he no longer had any.

“I’m not like Asa,” Annie screamed, “I don’t say aigs.” That was true, Annie said oggs.

Every day it was, “I want some hogs and oggs, Slam-a-lam-a-ding-dong.” She called me that when she was being playful.   I have know idea where she gets some of her expressions.  I had my suspicions though.   Duh-Wayne!

“And I don’t sit on my lawn mower and rev the engine all day or turn the mower part on inside the house every day.   I only do that once a week,” Annie continued, “And I don’t float.” She paused and I could see this laugh forming in her eyes.   Annie’s eyes did laugh when she was ready to burst out with something funny.   I knew Annie’s sense of humor so I was kind of scared.

“I don’t float, but I can,” Annie said still holding back a laugh and all of a sudden she was levitating and finally zooming around the room.

“Annie,” I screamed, “How do you do that?”   I tried snatching her out of the air but she kept zooming around.    It had to be a string.   I finally got her but there was nothing attached to her.

“Annie how did you do that?” I asked.

“I made a levitation device, out of some old bannana peels, oh about 4 years ago,” she said.   “That was the brain child of Duh-Wayne.”

“Annie you did not even know Duh-Wayne four years ago.”

“Didn’t I Slam, Didn’t I?” Annie said seriously.  “Anyways it came in handy when I was six hundred pounds, I had to get out and do stuff.”

“Annie you had this when you were six hundred pounds?” I screamed. Thinking about the hernia I got dragging her up the stairs and how I struggled daily to wash her rotted maggotty fat callous and how she had non stop die-a-rear and how I had to grunt to lift her and clean her while she stuffed food into her mouth like a steam shovel, putting three or four slices of pizza topped with chicken wings into her mouth and then crunch crunch crunching them and her hitting my back every three minutes with another empty box or contatiner or bottle.   And all this time she could have easily lifted herself.   Annie must have been thinking about it too because she started laughing loud and long.   Yes that was it that was why her eyes laughed.

Annie was floating around and rolling in the air laughing.    She was laughing so loud and hard that she was snorting;  occasionally her  laugh would come out as a loud caw caw caw, I don’t know what it was all about but it was how she laughed.

I let it go just like the an and a thing, and the slice and piece, and her making me cater to her every need and nearly break my back dragging her six hundred pound rotting corpse around for months because I was getting off.   I was getting off on having one of her famous huge birthday parties with a hundreds of guests, news reporters (who Annie called the fake media but needed them there nonetheless), circus animals giving guests rides on their backs, circus animals riding on ferris wheels, bands, food, food carts, food wagons, buffetts, Dr. Now, pin the tail on the donkey, a huge cake wheeled out on a cart it took nine people to push and one lonely cup cake for Annie Jr.   I was saved from cleaning the mess, having my bank account drained and video’s of me posted on facebook of close ups of my left nostril.

Annie Jr. came out pulling a wagon filled with a towering stack of papers.   “These are all the invitations that came back already,” he said to Annie.

Ana came behind her pulling a wagon half the size of her father’s, “here are more,” she said all out of breath.

Spam brought up the rear with a hay wagon (how they got it in the house is beyond me and how in the world Spam was dragging it is also beyond me).   “I think this is the end of them,” Spam said.

Just then Duh-Wayne ran in.   “I got them all in the mail, Annie,” he said, “And turn the tv on; it’s there!”

And IT was.   Every single channel, shouting, ‘come to the greatest birthday party of all.’ It sound so fun with the music and the free eats and music and the FAMOUS DUH-WAYNE and of course Annie.   Just bring the perfect gift for Annie, gifts for Annie Jr. optional.

I slapped my head.   It never fails.   It never fails.

Annie still floating around near my head floated up and put her butt right in my face.   I tried in vain to move but she kept up pushing her up turned tail closer and closer.   “Annie stop!” I screamed.   My back already hurt knowing I would be cleaning the party mess for days.

“And just think Slam,” Annie yelled pushing her hips one more time right at me and I felt fur all the way around my face except for my nose.   I screamed and tried to get away but it was like she was attached.   “In August we do it again.”

I finally pulled away from her.   “What do you mean again?”

“I died on August 5th and that is the day Cara-Lyle was born so we have to celebrate again.   Two birthdays one cat!” Annie screamed.

She and Duh-Wayne high fived and the both screamed.   “Got it made in the shade.”

 

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