This here bringer of the pooper to the fun party

Fun times with the Fecal Family Players

We’re spending a few days at my mother’s cabin in rural Utah with portions of my extended family including my Granny Boone:

That’s a hickey under her left eye. Turns out SHE’S STILL GOT IT.

Granny is very religious and often speaks directly to God. It’s true. Granny is so religious that she is incapable of saying SEX out loud. If she must utter it in conversation she pronounces it SEC because she knows God is listening and she doesn’t want it to go on her permanent record that such filth ever came out of her mouth. But hickeys are okay. Everyone should have a Granny who uses that kind of logic.

As Granny was getting her “poop tea” ready to drink last night — no one in my family is regular except my mother’s oldest brother, Lewis, who can shoot poop out his butt and hit a target 25 feet away, I’m not kidding, there were witnesses — my mother dared me to taunt her about consuming a Word of Wisdom contraband (Mormon scripture says that “hot drinks [tea, coffee] are not for the belly”). After she boiled a pot of water on the stove I asked Granny if she takes the sacrament with the same lips she uses to drink that tea.

Granny didn’t hear me, but my mother was horrified that I took her up on the dare. “You’re horrible, Heather!” She scolded.

“Yes I am, but you were an accomplice, mother,” I shot back. “You could be indicted on at least one count of conspiracy and if you keep this up God’s not going to give you your own planet.”

Minutes later as everyone was playing a few rounds of Rummikub my step-father started a conversation about Christmas gifts people received during childhood. Granny mentioned that her mother used to give her handmade dolls and sewing materials, and then my step-father looked off as if remembering one tender holiday season that stood out from the rest.

“We didn’t have a lot of money either,” he said. “I always asked my father to give me one thing to wear and one thing to play with.”

“That was nice of you,” said Granny.

My step-father continued, “So one year my dad gave me a pair of pants with the pockets cut out of them.”

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