"Hellah"

Hellah? Madeline Gaskin? Nah, she ain't here. Where is she? Hell, I think she done up and gone to Edowah Diddley!

Aunt Mad did everything in style, her own inimitable one. Even a simple thing like answering the telephone evoked her own special greeting, [ "hellah" ] and it was the way she began every phone conversation. Never hello but hellah.

"Crack my back, l'il fella. You crack it better than the chiropractor."

Aunt Mad would request my services whenever I came over to her house every Monday night. She firmly believed in the medical profession known for its bone-crushing adjustments. She had taught me well, even though all I did was take my hands and push on her back, as she lay on her big titties, er, the frontal part of her body.

"That was good, but harder, l'il fella."

Crack!.... Crack!....Crack! It never failed, as I was the kid with the magic fingers.

"You done good, l'il fella. Here's fifty cents."

Aunt Mad loved getting her back "cracked," and figured that it was a good deal, since the chiropractor charged 5 bucks, and she got off easy with me. But you could buy a lot with 2 quarters back in those days. A coke was a dime and a comic book ditto. And candy bars were a nickel, except for a "Chunky." I guess because the little square chocolate morsel had nuts and raisins. Even though they were good, I always felt ripped-off purchasing one. You only got about two good bites and the cost was double the normal ones. Like a 3 Musketeer, Mars Bar, or Snickers-my favourite of the big 3 was the one with the creamy nougat.

All right Sara, Miss Arnold. Who needs to squeeze their sponge?"

I'm not sure where and how Aunt Mad met up with Sara, but they had been friends for years. She lived in the west end of town, and Miss Arnold was Sara's mother, 90 years old, er, young. She moved fairly well for a 90genarian, but she required assistance when entering and exiting the car. This particular day, the threesome were riding in the countryside enjoying the sights when nature's call reared its ugly head.

"Let's pull over here. All right, Miss Arnold. Don't be shy. We're gonna squat here and squeeze our sponge."

"Squeeze our what?" Miss Arnold inquired.

"Squeeze your sponge, goddammit!"

Mission accomplished-finally-after some show and tell, the unlikely trio headed back to the Bel-Air.

"Now, Sara, help your mama get in the car....Sara....Don't slam the goddamn....Sara!"

Sara had done the unthinkable and had slammed the car door on her mother's fingers. Not sure if they went to the hospital. Back in those days, people were a little sturdier and much tougher by today's standards. But like today, Sara threatened to sue Aunt Mad.

"That goddamn Sara done threatened to sue me. She's the one who slammed the goddamn car door on her momma's fingers. I ain't got no goddamn use for her."

It took a few years, but they finally got over it and became friends again. But Aunt Mad was always wary of Sara after that.

"I had a good checkup today, l'il fella. Dr. Gold said my sugar was under control. Let's go the cafeteria and get us something to eat."

I liked going out to eat with Aunt Mad, because she didn't care how much I ate or what I got. She looked forward to eating out, but she had to eat the right foods a few days before her doctor's appointment. Hers was a "damn the torpedos" syle, and any restrictions just didn't mesh.

After a quick jaunt down the road-yes, we bypassed the banana split ice cream shoppe-we arrived at the popular 2 line monster at the airport. Aunt Mad got her usual carrot and raisin. Next were the desserts.

"Should I get egg custard or lemon meringue?"

A dilemma occurred every time we entered the array of goodies. Which sweet would she choose? A clean bill of health from her doctor, so it was splurge city. All those days of bypassing the starches and sweets would end today at the dessert bar.

"Ah, hell. I think I'll get 'em both."

And get 'em both she did.

Next up were the meats. I would get my usual. A chop steak topped with an onion ring.

"Does your l'il boy want a child's plate?"

"Hell, he can eat more than you and me put together. Child's plate, smild's plate. Give 'em two."

Hellah! They definitely don't make 'em like they used to.

This concludes "Aunt Mad Chronicles III."