Slutty one and slutty two.
“But I don’t want to go to Ka-a-a-a-a-a-n-s-a-s.” I whined to my mom. “Pleeeeease don’t make me go.”
“Oh, you’re going.” She said.
Being as my parents were divorced, I thought this might be the perfect opportunity to drop in on pops.
“Can’t I just go stay with dad while you go?”
“Stacy, my family lives there. I haven’t been there in over 10 years. If I’m going, you’re going!”
My mom had this way about her. She was such a warm, loving, caring woman, but there was one thing you should know about her. Don’t ever, ever, fuck with her. I had been complaining about this trip for over a week now, and I was starting to get on her last nerve. The way I looked at it, this would give her the opportunity to go see her family without having to deal with a pain in the ass 10 year old. And I could go to Redondo Beach, ride bikes and hang out on the beach with my dad. In my opinion, it was a win-win situation. Why couldn’t she see the logic in my perfect plan?
Having lost yet another Kansas vs. Redondo Beach battle with my mom, I climbed into my uncle’s van and prepared myself for a long torturous trip to Kansas. Now, my uncle did have one of those cool vans. You know the kind with the hot Indian woman painted on the side. His was just like that…minus the hot Indian woman.
As for seating, not so cool. There was a fold out bed in the back where my two much older cousins sat. Bonnie and Tammy. AKA Slutty One and Slutty Two. These two were trouble from birth, and there was no way in Hell they were going to share their space with me. Then there was the mini bar that pretty much cut the van in half. My mom and aunt got the captains chairs located behind my two uncles who sat up front. So does the 10-year old get a seat? A seatbelt? Noooo. Seat belts are for pussies!! Let’s just strap her to the front of the van and use her as a hood ornament.
Only stopping for bathroom breaks and food, it wasn’t long before we all started to turn on each other. And it was just getting downright ugly. My uncle snapped at my aunt. My aunt snapped at my mom. My mom snapped at my cousins. And I hid in fear for my life clinging to my box of Cheeze Its and growling at anything that came within arm’s reach.
My uncle Don, who was driving, did his best to stop us from tearing each other apart and suggested we talk on the CB to the truckers in the area to pass the time. Sounded like fun. I was totally in. My mom had her “handle.” She was “The Wicked Witch” and I was “Snoopy.” We talked all the lingo we could remember from Smokey and the Bandit.
“Breaker, breaker we’re east-bound and down on the middle of Nowhere highway. You spy any Smokies out there? C’mon back.”
We were having a good time. Till Slutty One and Slutty Two started chiming in from the back of the van. Next thing I know I went from being 10 years old to 35 years old in a matter of minutes. The things they were saying could make a trucker blush and I’m pretty sure there were some blushing truckers out there. Problem was, there were also some horny truckers out there as well. Having given up our location, Slutty One and Slutty Two caused a feeding frenzy on one of our country’s most majestic highways. It was like we were honey being surrounded by giant 18-wheeled bees.
My one uncle, Uncle Buck (really, that was his name), was the father of the slutty twins and was getting very nervous. We were in the middle of nowhere, and now we had real-life truckers on our tail. With my cousins in the back waving and flirting, things were starting to get a little scary. “STOP THAT!” Buck shouted.
The girls knew their father very well and put their butts back in their seats and faced front immediately. The truckers were not happy at this new turn of events, and decided to pass us on the side to see if they could get a better look at the girls. But they didn’t get the girls. They got me. There I was with window down, elbow bent, and fist in the air giving them the international “Please honk your horn for me” signal. Needless to say, they were not impressed. I didn’t get a honk. Not even one.
“Stacy sit down!”
“But mom! I’m trying to get them to honk their horns.”
That was all it took. The rest of the ride was pretty quiet. Along the way we stopped a couple more times for food and potty breaks and we also hit an Indian reservation and bought some Jewelry. My mom told me about my ancestors once more and tried to make me understand how important it is to keep my grandfather’s spirit alive. I nodded and did the pee pee dance to let her know I was hanging on every word. “Oh, just go to the bathroom already!” She sighed.
Back in the van my uncles took turns driving, while we took turns sleeping. After what felt like FOREVER, we finally made it into Kansas and pulled up to my aunt Jaunita’s house. “This is it.” My mom said.
As Juanita and her 11-year-old daughter Stephanie came out to greet us, I could feel Stephanie’s eyes piercing right through my skin, melting my bones and stealing my soul.
Having inherited my mom’s “Don’t Fuck With Me” gene, I consulted the Magic 8-ball in my head.
“Magic 8 ball. Do you see a fight in my future?”
The answer that rose up from the murky depths of the 8-ball was swift and certain.
To be continued….
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