Alien Uncle wasn’t the only interplanetary visitor to roll into Eureka the other week in the Audi of Many Colors. Alien Aunt, one of his sisters, was riding shotgun. Sometimes the Lord works in mysterious ways, and Alien Aunt is fascinated by such mysteries of the Godhead, but damned if there’s anything mysterious about why these two are the siblings who never married.

For the sake of brevity and getting my sleep-deprived ass to bed, I’ll pass on providing any sort of biography of Alien Aunt, as I did for Alien Uncle. Suffice it for now to say that she lives in a parallel universe that is best approximated by the craziest shit not involving snakes or poisons that you ever saw coming out of  a Pentecostal church.

I actually get along pretty well with her, in contrast to Alien Uncle, who is just baffling to everyone around him.

Let me rephrase that: I usually get along well with Alien Aunt. Last night she really tested my mellowness. Keep this context in mind: my grandmother, Alien Aunt’s mother, died at about 0410 yesterday, September 9; Alien Aunt had left town a few days previously and was informed by phone several hours later. At 2044, Alien Aunt phoned me from Tennessee. After perhaps a minute of normal, gracious small talk about the death, she asked me about the disposition of grandma’s jewelry. I told her that her sister and my mother were working on it as I spoke. Alien Aunt told me that she wished she could be there to make sure that she got pieces that she wanted. She then asked me whether her sister was available; I stalled for a few seconds before Alien Aunt told me, “That’s all right. I think I’ll call her and talk to her myself because I don’t want to put you in the middle of this.” Alien Aunt is a smart cookie, and she knows that I’m no idiot; if she thought I wouldn’t instantly recognize the sleazy disingenuousness of that last statement, that’s just theater of the absurd.

Not three minutes later Alien Aunt was on the phone with her sister, angling for jewelry. She expressed particular interest in a gold piece because “I think it’s worth a lot.” That sister and my mom are white hot with disgust and anger over her attitude.

Nor was that her first outburst of crassness over her mother’s estate. A week and a half earlier, as grandma was being admitted to home hospice, fully lucid, Alien Aunt told the admission nurses, in grandma’s presence, that the only things of any monetary value in her quarters were some pieces in her figurine collection.

Stay tuned for more details in the days to come; I’ll probably come through. All I can do right now, though, is quote one of my favorite Philadelphia psychotics: “DAAH-yum! SHEE-yit! Torresdale AVENUE!”

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