"The Fish As A Yuppie, er, Guppie"

My Aunt Mad was a hoot, a closet nudist, and had big titties. She was proud of them and used to dust them with powder she purchased at Bloomingdales.

She could also pee for minutes.

"I gotta squeeze my sponge," she used to say on one of our jaunts to the country in her Chevy Bel-Air. We wouldn't bother looking for a gas station. She would pull over on the side of the road, find a grassy noll, squat, and pee, er, squeeze her sponge for minutes, it seemed.

"Want a banana split, l'il fella," she always asked as we headed to Monday's Lake. I'm guessing here, but my weight fluctuations and addiction to sugar may have been formulated here. I would get a banana split on the way, and another one on the way back.

Monday's Lake was deep into the country and took an hour to get there, motoring down the interstate. A tree hung over a small creek. And perfect for an adolescent in search of adventures. Sometimes we'd take Bogus Bobby with us, but when he almost drowned in another lake a few years prior, and Aunt Mad had to make a daring rescue to save his life, we didn't always bring him along.

"Don't slam the door....Goddammit, I told 'em not to slam the goddamn door."

Aunt Mad would pick us up after school in her chevy. Me and Bogus in the front. Sheena and Sandra in the back seat. Sandra was tall for her age but infamous for slamming the goddamn door. It would make Aunt Mad, well, mad. Really mad.

Sheena, my kindergarten love, would slam the goddamn door each time she departed the back seat. And Aunt Mad never failed to get pissed and begin her diatribe. She always wanted to know aloud why they "slammed the goddamn door." But it happened every day on the way home from school, so she should have been expecting it.

I would always sit there as my friends departed the Bel-Air hoping they wouldn't slam "the goddamn door," but like clockwork, the goddamn door would get slammed. In hindsight walking home would have been a more viable option, or perhaps I could have said, "Sandra, Sheena, don't slam the goddamn door when you get out the car, cos Aunt Mad don't like it when you slam the goddamn door."

"I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours."

Bogus was 11 months older than me. He lived next door, and I would see him from afar and vice-versa, but we didn't really meet until we enrolled in Guilotine Elementary as kindergarteners. On the first day of school we walked home with our moms and instantly became best buddies. We were at that curious age and I asked to see his heiney if he showed me his. So we ventured out to the abandoned warehouse behind my upstairs apartment and showed each other our buttox. Not sure where Aunt Mad was, but this time frame precluded the slamming of the goddamn door.

"I'll never buy you another goddamn gingerbread man again."

Aunt Mad had taken me and Bogus Bobby to Sears and told us to stay in the car while she purchased a quick item.

"Stay in the car; I'll be right back."

Well, kids can be kids so we thumbed our noses at Aunt Mad's instructions and left the car. We went into Sears and rode the escalators up and down. We were so enthralled in our adventures that we lost track of time. When we returned to the car, Aunt Mad was pissed more than I had ever seen her. I wished Sheena and Sandra were there to slam the goddamn car doors to divert her attention, but, alas, they were nowhere to be found.

"Get in the goddamn car."

We whimpered into the back seat.

"Where have you been, god dammit. I told you to stay in the goddamn car. I had the goddamn police looking for you. Won't listen to a goddamn thing. You [ me ] are the most hard-headed kid I've ever seen.

"Eat these goddamn gingerbread men, cos I ain't ever buying you another goddamn thing." [ throws the goddamn sack of gingerbread men into the goddamn back seat ]

I was feeling bad, guilty, and sad. I knew she would buy me more gingerbread men with the little raisins for eyes and buttons down its front, but we-I- had let her down. And I felt bad. Not sure how Bogie felt. But we heard a lot more god damns before we got home.

"I'm gonna shave my head and go down the railroad backwards."

One of Aunt Mad's favorite sayings. It was said in a humourous vein, but it meant all options had been exhausted, and the only recourse was shaving one's head and going down the railroad backwards.

"Your goddamn dinner will be ready in a jiffy."

I turned on the old black and white t.v. to watch "Amos and Andy," as Aunt Mad made us dinner in her quaint, crackerbox kitchen. Country fried steak with Heinz 57, cream style corn, crinkle-cut fries, rolls with the seeds on top drenched in butter and iced tea was the standard fare Monday nite's at Aunt Mad's house. The tv lineup included "The Lucy Show," "Red Skelton," and "Petticoat Junction." Ah, memories. btw, Aunt Mad was a goddamn good cook, as well.

"She ain't here. She's gone to Edowah Diddly."

Prank call. Solicitation. Long lost friend or relative. It didn't matter to Aunt Mad when an unwanted caller tried to ring her house via the telephone.

"Heetomahotomastinkarinkyfarmerdinkysallybunkawinktomanipcatsingsongkittywontchacowmeo."

No one in the family knew what in the hell this phrase meant or whether she invented it or not, but Aunt Mad reached icon status by muttering this sing-song phrase way back inna day.

Aunt Mad was a hoot, an icon, and my Great Aunt. She loved me dearly. And I loved her. Even if she did intimidate with all the "GODDAMNS." Big titties and all. Closet nudist? Maybe in the next installment.