Aunt Iris
Was my grandmother’s sister. She was short, had wiry grayish brown hair that stuck out like Larry from the Three Stooges with hair extensions and unlike anyone else in the family, would sneak to the basement for a smoke.

This wasn’t what made her unique, however. She had no teeth. She had apparently had such poor tooth hygiene that it wrecked the gums and they couldn’t put dentures on (I don’t know the biology of all this, just following what mom said). She also had a long nose and prominent chin, which by the time I arrived on the scene had grown within an inch of each other. She was the epitome of a Grimm’s fairy tale witch, except nice. How she ever got her lips past the gate of her nose and chin to give us sloppy great-aunt kisses I’ll never know.

The icing on the cake was the fact that she had a really bad stutter. Imagine, short, funky hair, no teeth and an inability to get a phrase out without shaking her head and sounding like Mel Tillis on meth. Saying “Hello sweetheart” turned into “heh heh heh hlo thweet thweet thweet, dear”.

Now I had two brothers, one five years older, who was/is evil, and the parasitic baby, two years younger. We had discussed this interesting creature called Aunt Iris and imitated her while sitting in grandma’s barn or in the corn fields, etc. The evil one had picked up on mimicking her to a “T” and would regale us with hour after hour of Aunt Iris trying to quote Shakespeare, sing church hymns, etc.

Mom had caught on what we were doing and told us at the pain of death to stop and told us how much we would hurt her because she loved us so much. This just made all the more funnier.

Cue a family dinner looking like Norman Rockwell’s Thanksgiving. Everyone was eating, there was little conversation due to the sumptuous feast. Then I made the mistake of looking at my evil brother. All he did was mimic Aunt Iris’ toothless grin. The first time he did so, I quickly looked into my plate, got control of my breathing and mastered myself.

But that’s where it went wrong – the anticipation. I could not eat correctly because I knew the next time I looked he would do the same thing. I started sweating, I started being unable to control my breathing. Then it happened. I looked up he did an animated toothless grin and shook his head side to side like she did when she was excited. I laughed, but with my mouth closed. This meant that all air, mucus, and part of my corn and mashed potatoes came out of my nose. I was busted (and almost institutionalized), because I couldn’t stop giggling like a madman with dripping snot and corn garland hanging from my nose. I was excused [forced] from the table to go clean up.

I later got a major beating. My evil brother and his doe eyes of innocence went unscathed. My mom was never so ashamed (well until later).
( BrokenCoccyx doesn't mind if you grope on, Tue 27 Jul 2010, 18:14, 2 replies)

This is getting a click
Even though I woke my missus up laughing.
Cheers for that.
(Helmut McBucket invites you to pull his finger on, Wed 28 Jul 2010, 1:50, closed)

Obligado
hard to convey the visual and aural into words.
( BrokenCoccyx doesn't mind if you grope on, Wed 28 Jul 2010, 14:22, closed)