It was during a recent visit to Fergie and Mortimer’s home that the sparks really flew. Janet hates these visits to her mother’s house…as does the rest of her family. But Janet is Fergie’s only other surviving relative, and sometimes Morty needs a break from being at Fergie’s mercy all the time.
The visit began smoothly enough at first, but then Fergie began to talk of a few unsavory neighbors that had recently been arrested. The police had found a complete Meth lab in their neighbors’ garage. Maybe Stella shoulda kept her mouth shut, maybe it’s just as well she didn’t. All the same, she’s no fan of speed freaks, so all she had to say at this point is, “Thank fucking God! Who needs another colony of tweekers, anyway?”
Fergie was shocked to hear such language coming from a female, especially one of her granddaughters, * gasp! * and in her very own house on top of all that!!! But before she could call Stella out, Richard stepped in to confront her. “Excuse me, what was that word you just used, young lady?”
Stella, realizing that she just used profanity in front of her grandmother, gasped, “Ooops! I’m sorry. I forgot I’m not supposed to use profanity around here. Sorry!” She blushed, a bit embarrassed.
“No, not that word. I mean, the other word you used after you dropped the F bomb.”
“Well, you’re right, tho, Baba. I should’ve just said, ‘Who needs another colony of tweekers in the neighborhood or something like that.”
“Yeah, that word; tweekers! What the fuck are ‘tweekers’?!?” Richard demanded.
Janet could only cover her mouth as she giggled, “Oh my God!” uncontrollably.
“They’re speed freaks, Dad.”
“You’re showing your age, Baba.” Stella laughed.
“Well, whaddya expect; I am a daddy after all.”
Fergie couldn’t stand it any longer. “Honestly,” She practically yelled into her voice amplifier. “What in the world is this family coming to??? Such language coming from children!!! Is there no common decency in this world any more???”
“Oh, lighten up, Granny!” Richard retorted. “It was just a slip of the tongue and she said she was sorry, didn’t she!”
“Nevertheless, I should think you of all people, Richard, would set a better example for these children of yours instead of turning them both into vulgarians!” Fergie replied.
Cannes decided she’d had enough already and got up from the sofa, saying, “I’m outta here!” and headed toward the front door.
“Just where do you think you’re going, young lady?!?” Fergie demanded.
“Out!” Cannes replied. It really stresses her out when the family goes at it like this, which messes with her own blood sugars…making her piss all the time. Fuck that!
“Let her be, Fergie. What my daughters are up to are none of your concern.” Richard stated.
“Look, Mum-Mum,” Stella interjected, “Let’s just take this somewhere more private.” With that she grabbed the handles on Fergie’s wheelchair.
“You know, a little common courtesy, a little etiquette, has never killed anyone!!” Fergie declared as Stella pushed her into her bedroom.
With that, Janet and Richard headed into the guest room.
“Well, that’s just dandy!” Richard groused. “My kids are gonna learn daintyness from some legless crone-bot! No offense, darling.”
Richard closed the guestroom door behind him and caught his own reflection in the full length mirror on the door. Janet looked ready to blow any second. As if his reflection were his twin brother, he shrugged at it. One noise from him and the cork would pop…he just knew it. Fuck it, anyway, he’s a man and he can take it. Anyway, he coughed, “ * ahem! * “
“Fuck, man!! Why does she make such a point of pissing everyone off as much as she does! I might have an easier time calling you out for being a jerk to her if she were much nicer to my kids than she is!!” Janet exploded.
“Aw honey, I don’t blame you. I feel bad that it’s come to this yet again.” Richard replied. “In all fairness, though, many’s the time that I’ve felt like calling you out on the way you speak to her sometimes. It’s embarrassing. Although today I’m glad you’re at least showing some restraint this time.”
“I wish she didn’t bring that upon herself, always riding our asses and our children’s asses like she’s always doing. You know what really sucks about this, Richard, is that I cannot really blame her for any of it.”
“She’s really not been the same since your father Jake was killed!” Sighing, Richard added, “He was a great guy, your father. I wish he had survived the crash!”
“All he had to do was stop at a Penny’s or something and get a bite to eat!” Janet wailed. She had tears in her eyes. “What is it with you men and you’re trying to go the longest distances in as short a time as possible without a break, anyway?”
“Well, aren’t we pathetic making you ladies hold your water in for hours on end like we’re always doing?” Richard tried to interject a little humor in there.
“I’m not joking, Richard. It’s like you’d sacrifice your own lives to the point of suicide just to get from point A to B!!! What was the big hurry anyway? It’s not like this is tornado country!!”
“What can I say, Janet?” Richard said as he sat down on the bed besides his weeping wife. “They don’t call people like Jake and I ‘driven’ for no good reason.”
“She was at least willing to acquiesce to him while he was alive. I don’t know whether that comes from feeling that as a man that made him the boss of the house, she just knew enough to stay out of the way when he laid down the law. Either way, a lot died along with him.” Janet said wiping her eyes. She’s clearly calmed down quite a bit, but not completely.
“I’m so sorry, Janet. If there was some way I could’ve saved his life, I would’ve.”
“If she could just find something better to do than to harass my kids…like go play Bingo or attend some accident survivor’s support group.”
“She’s obviously got some health issues of her own, which she is clearly ignoring.” Richard stated.
“She’s killing herself. My God, why won’t she listen to us for a change? She could be enjoying the rest of her life. I’m not so sure she’s got very much of it left anymore.” Janet wiped her eyes again.
“C’mon, honey.” Richard said. “Let’s go break something.”
Meanwhile, in Fergie’s bedroom, Fergie could only weep. Fine thing, her eldest granddaughter has a mouth like a sewer and she’s the one getting chewed out!
“Don’t think for one second that you don’t bring any of this upon yourself, mum-mum!!! From the time I was 12 you’ve been harping on me about my diabetes and I’m fed up with it!!! You’re not doing anyone any favors, especially yourself!!! Just look at yourself!! You’re neglecting a few of your own health issues in the process, y’know!! You’ve lost both your legs and your larynx in that accident. And you’ve probably been giving yourself high blood pressure and maybe even an ulcer with all the fretting and fussing you do all the time!!!”
“You can stop with that tone anytime, young lady. You know I don’t want you losing your life the same way my late husband lost his!!! I lost a whole lot more than a few paltry body parts, I’ll tell you that right now!” Fergie retorted. She really has a good heart; she just doesn’t know when to stop.
“You’re not helping at all. You’re driving me crazy and you’re driving me away!!! Your trouble is that you’ve confused harassment with helpfulness. The bullies who picked on me at school at least learned when to back off already!!! Maybe I could do a better job managing this crazy disease if people would just let me be for at least a half-hour!!! Just focus on managing your on life and stop trying to fix mine, willya?”
“Stella, darling, I cannot in all good conscience ignore it and hope it will all go away. After all, your sister now has the same problem!!”
“And another thing; you leave Cannes alone, too!! She doesn’t need your meddling, either!! She’s got me, she’s got her boyfriend Clay who has had plenty of experience from living with his own mother. She’s doing fine, thank you very much!!”
“You don’t mean that ‘Punk Mother’ friend of yours! Oh, she’s a fine example along with all her derelict associates in that dive she’s running!!”
“Listen, Gran, I don’t care what you think of Lenora and her family. The point is if any of us need your kind of help, we will ask for it…Get that through your thick skull, just please mind your own business and let us be, alright?? I’m not asking a king’s ransom from you.” With that Stella left the bedroom and couldn’t help but slam the door behind her.
Fergie managed to open the door and in her own way called after her. “My family is my business and you’re a member of it whether any one of us likes it or not!! Don’t you ever forget that!!!”
Stella continued on her merry way away from Fergie, not caring who got the last word or what the last word was.
“You know I love my family!”
As the battles raged on, Cannes took the jeep and made her way back to Magmaville…which was about 90 minutes from where Fergie lived. Just before she drove off, she pressed speed dial and called Clay.
“It’s me, babe. I’m outta there.”
“She doesn’t waste any time, does she.”
“Nobody wastes time in that house. Are you kidding me?”
“Well, I’ve got the whole house to myself if you wanna come over.”
“I’m so there, dude!”
Soon the two of them were stripped naked. She was rolling a joint as he stood behind her kissing the back of her neck.
“It’s not usually this peaceful here.” Cannes observed.
“Luckily the three of them are at a Siouxsie concert in Los Osos.” His hands began caressing her. With that they decided they both liked it this way. Cannes decided she couldn’t wait, didn’t really need the joint after all. So they feasted on each other while they could. The parental units would come barging in soon enough.
Cannes stayed with Clay just long enough to catch a second wind after a multiple orgasm or two. She was beginning to feel guilty about leaving Stella and her parents stranded there, too.
“Want me to come along?” Clay asked.
“You’re a real glutton for punishment, aren’t you.” Cannes teased him.
Anyway, the two of them hopped into the jeep and drove back to Fergie’s place. Upon arrival, they found the house almost deserted…except for Fergie.
“K’hah! You two just cannot keep away from each other, can you.” Fergie snarled.
“Never mind that, mum-mum. Where are the others?” Cannes demanded.
“Out walking, I suppose. They couldn’t wait to get away from me already.” Fergie lamented.
At this Clay whispered to Cannes, “Like I said, she wastes no time at all.” Cannes stifled a chuckle and then shushed him.
Fergie continued, “This crazy family comes here with their bad language and their hooligan ways and I’m made to look like the evil witch in my own home! I was sure Jake and I raised my only child better than that”
“Aw, gran…I’m sorry the visit got off to such a bad start. I kinda feel like a coward running out on everyone like that.”
“Escapist, Cannes, not coward.” Clay interjected. “There’s a difference.”
“How can I blame you, my dear?” Fergie despaired. “For that matter how can I blame you alone? If only my daughter had stayed with the quarterback she was dating in high school. After all, what difference would that make? She ended up being a wife and mother anyway?”
“She’s also had some good careers, hosting a radio show for awhile and now co-producing a wildly popular television show with my father. Would that football player allow her that much creative freedom…like my father has? I doubt that. From what I hear, the football player turned out to be a complete douchebag!”
“I wish at least Richard could’ve stayed a nerd. He was much nicer when he was a straight A student, before he hooked up with all those bikers and became a hooligan himself.”
“How long do you think he could’ve stood for being picked on by the other bullies and ignored by the people he wanted to get to know? He didn’t like being this nice boy who was practically ignored unless the thugs got bored. He just wanted to be more of a man and less of a wimp, that’s all. How can you blame him? Anyway, he’s a happier man and in my opinion a great father to Stella and I both. Think what you will of the way we were raised, but I’m pretty sure that if the football guy were my dad, we’d be a whole lot more anti-social than we are now.”
“Yes, I’m sure you two kids appreciate that much.” Mum-mum began. “It just tears me apart; that and the fact that both my grandchildren have diabetes now.”
“We don’t like that fact of our lives, either. After all, we’re the ones who have to take all this medicine and jab our fingers and put up with people fretting over us all the time. But you can’t control whether you get diabetes any more than you can control whether you get the common cold.
“If it’ll make you feel any better, I promise never to let myself go into any kind of a coma again.”
“Thank God!” Clay exclaimed.
“See? I’ve got this cute guy to fuss over me. He’s the only guy that Baba hasn’t chased away from our house, so it’s not like Baba doesn’t protect us.”
“Well, he doesn’t seem a bad sort.” Mum-mum observed. “But he really ought to shave. He looks like a gnome!”
“Oh, now that hurts!” Clay protested.
“What’s wrong with gnomes? They’re great spirits, very protective of property and people!”
“All the same, a shave never killed a man. Who knows what’s living under all that!”
“Please consider why I’m always ragging on the two of you as much as I have been.” Fergie added. “To have lost my first husband and almost my own life – please let me finish now, please – that was too hard for me to bear as it was. Even if your mom and dad could trust that the two of you could manage on your own at this stage, if anything were to happen to the two of you, or either one of you, it would hurt them very deeply. I wouldn’t wish that upon my daughter or my son-in-law, or anyone in my family no matter how I personally feel about any one of them. It would kill me if my grandchildren were to go before me. It’s only right that you and Stella would live on after I go back home to God. With your parents always going and doing their own thing with their television show, I worry that you’ve not been looked after as much as you need to be.”
“Really, mum-mum, Stella and I are adults now, even if we are having such a hard time financially that we’re still stuck living at home with our parents.” Cannes replied.
“Mrs. Johnson,” Clay intervened. “Would it help you to know that God’s always ragging on us, always watching us, seeing us through the worst of times? As deeply religious as you are, ma’am, your faith in God doesn’t seem to be as strong as it could be. Otherwise the thought that God is always with us would put your mind completely at ease.’”
“He’s got a point, Mum-Mum. We may appear to be heathens, but we’re not Godless by any means. Besides, “ Cannes added. “Seem’s God is not through with any of us just yet, or we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. For that matter we wouldn’t even be here in the first place.”
“There’s no point in spending the years you have left here in constant worry. I mean, pardon my french Fergie, but you really are too old for that kind of crap.” Clay concluded.
Eventually, the rest of the Yossarian family returned from their walking, having cooled off considerably and pleased that the atmosphere at Fergie’s became considerably less heated. Cannes decided to take Clay back to Magmaville.
Clay was still a bit miffed at being referred to as a gnome, though, and let Cannes know on no uncertain terms.
“ ‘What’s wrong with gnomes’ ?!?”
“Well, what’s wrong with gnomes?”
“I just never thought of myself as one, that’s all.”
“C’mon, Clay, I was just humouring her.” Cannes assured him. “Anyway it’s her problem if she can’t deal with facial hair. If you’re a gnome then so was Jesus Christ, so that should put you in brilliant company. Don’t take it so hard, man!”
So Clay decided to do his best not to take that so personally in the end. After all, if Cannes likes gnomes, then he’d fare better than the guys he considers to be more attractive than himself.
After Punk Mother, Milo, and Teddy returned from Siouxsie’s performance, Clay couldn’t help but still be a bit miffed about being referred to as a gnome by Cannes’ grandmother despite her reassuring words. So he confided his feelings to his mum, who was on a post-concert high and feeling a bit mischievous.
“Um Clayton, I’m afraid I have a bit of a confession to make.” Punk Mother began. “On the night you were conceived, Dr. Timothy Leary paid a visit to our commune. There were several sugar cubes that were spiked with LSD. I took 2 of them. I would’ve loved to have taken 3 or more, but Tim insisted I save the rest for the other commies. Thank God he did, coz that stuff really packed a wallop. I was hallucinating for hours and was really peaking when this gnome crawled out from under the sofa and began to ravish me. It was the best lay I’ve ever had in the commune!”
The three punks chortled at this story, which was obviously a crock of shit she made up just to get a rise out of her son.
“ ‘at wuz nae fookin noom, thae. ‘At wuz bleedin’ ‘enry!” Milo chortled. The three of them were clearly out of it.
That made Clay snarl, “Quit fucking around, you guys!!”
“Whoy’re ye takin it sae serious loik, seeing as it’s coom froom dis daft ole coo whot talks loik a fookin floy!” Milo said as he got up to go for a leak.
“Yeah, Clay, you know she’s full of shit anyway.” Punk Mother chimes in as she took her last glucose test for the night. The three of them had been home for at least a few minutes by the time Clay was dropped off, so Lenora had plenty of time to get her kit out and clean her hands for this test. “Besides, Cannes likes the way you look…or at least likes the fact that you turn her on so easily. Why should you care what her grandmother says about you? Take it from me; other people’s opinions of you are not your problem.”
As she finished this sentence, Punk Mother looked at the monitor on her meter, which read 136. High, but at least under 140. She shrugged it off. She was in too good a mood tonight.
Milo came out of the bathroom and added, “Anywoy, ye doan look loik a flippin’ noom a’tall. If anything ye look loik a fookin brownae, donnye!”
Teddy began to tease as well. “Oy, Clayton…this bird o’yerz, doos she keep a stash of roober noomes in ‘er closet…joost in coyse things doan work oot fe th’ tae o’ye?”
Clay blew a razzberry at Teddy.
“Okay, that’s enough teasing my son now. After all that’s Cannes’ job” Then Punk Mother added, “He really can’t help looking like a gnome, can he.”
“You guys are all drunk off your asses, aren’t you!” Clay responded.
“Wull, nae dooh!” Milo laughed. Clay stopped being pissed off and started being amused. Even when he was the butt of their jokes, there was always something funny about a herd of drunken scots talking a load of poxy rubbish.
They let up, though and called him over to the coffee table. Teddy was ready to share this nice big spliff with everyone that he’d just rolled.
“Never mind, kid.” Punk Mother said as Clay took the 2nd drag after Teddy went first. “That old shrew is crazier than all of us put together, despite her façade of refinement.”
“Nae shite, Mother. She’s a bigger caentrail freak than that Kunt Needermoyer ever cud be, and believe me, ‘at’s a roight stretcher!” Milo added as he passed the spliff to his mum.
“A roight bloody fascist!” Teddy added.
“A bleedin’ megalomaniac!”
“A clooset natsie bigoot!”
“A gnome bashing ignoramus!”
“A floy-tohkkin’ croybaby schoolmerm!”
“A smelly olde doipeh wearin doggy!”
“Alright, already!” Punk Mother roared. “Either take a hit off this or I’m passing it back to my son, willya?”
Clay was laughing too hard at the way these two crazed scottish blokes were ripping Fergie Mum-Mum apart. Then he belched and said, “You guys set a brilliant example, making fun of a crippled person.”
“Crippled person? ‘at’s ‘ardly peesee itself, issit!” Teddy countered.
“P.C….whot’s ‘at staend fe, anywoy…pretentious crap?” Milo cracked.
“How dare you, my good man!” Punk Mother chided. “Everybody knows that P.C. stands for Perpetually Confused.” She passed the spliff to Clay.
“I thought it was something more hyper intellectual like ‘Pontificatory Confoundamentational’?” Clay stated before he took a hit.
“Oi say we call it ‘Pig’s Cloob’ an layve it at that!” Teddy blurted.
So ends that night.
The rest of the visit at Fergie’s went off without any more of a hitch than usual. Morty came back to check on his stepmother and then the next day the Yossarian family returned to Magmaville…very relieved to be outta there and home at last.
Stella had the night off from The Bauhaus Café, but she had a hella big load of laundry to do. So she carried this big laundry basket filled with all her filthy clothes downstairs to the utility room where the washer and dryer were. Once there she set the basket down and began to sort her clothes. She fished out all of her bras and underpants, which she secured together by running the bra straps through the leg openings and fastening the back hooks closed. These she put inside of a blue mesh bag and closed the zipper to keep them from falling out into the washer.
As she was preparing to wash her clothes, she stood beside an open window…which was facing the street. After she threw her lingerie bag into the washer, she began to separate the darker clothes from the lighter colored clothes, and began to add the lighter colored clothes to the washer.
Then she decided, as long as she was at it she would add the clothes she was wearing to the loads. She began by taking her leopard print silk blouse off, unbuttoning each button from the top down. As she opened her blouse and took it off, she revealed her ample breasts which were nesting inside the cups of a black lace bra.
It was right about this time that Kent was making his way home from The Bauhaus Café. He was just about to pass her house when he caught the sight of Stella pushing her black denim jeans down to her ankles. As she stepped out of her pant legs, she revealed her backside, as she was only wearing her black lace bra and a satin thong that was the exact same color.
Determined that he’d rather see her strip down to her birthday suit than be caught oggling her, Kent began to look for a place where he could be hidden yet still enjoy the show Stella was putting on. He spotted a eucalyptus tree, the trunk of which was just wide enough to conceal his lanky frame. He made his way across the street to hide behind the tree, and as he did he could see her from a different angle.
He watched as Stella began to reach behind her back to unfasten the black lace bra she was wearing. As she removed it from her shoulders, her breasts fell out…bouncing just a little bit as they landed above her belly. Then she locked her thumbs under the waist strap, which held up her thong, and pulled them down over her hips, letting them fall to her feet. A dark patch of pubic hair formed a triangle between her legs, in full view of Kent’s line of vision. Then Stella bent down to pick up her thong and placed it in the laundry basket.
Kent felt his penis begin to swell up throughout all this. God, how he wished Stella would forget about Jarvis, forget about all those other guys she’d rather be with, and just let him have his way with her.
Stella leaned back against the door to the cabinet where the downstairs water heater was stored. She had a feeling that she was being spied on, but couldn’t actually see who was hidden behind the eucalyptus tree. “Hm, no matter,” she thought. She was sure that if anyone was there, it was either someone who had fallen out of Baba’s good graces…or at least some mysterious stranger. Either way she was gonna give this perve the kind of torture he deserves.
So she began to caress and fondle her breasts, pulling and tugging at her hardening nipple first on her left breast, then on her right. Then her right hand began to glide down the front of her torso and stopped at her navel. Then with her middle and ring finger on her right hand, she gently massaged her navel, rubbing it as if she were playing with her clit, which began to pulsate gently with each stroke. Then she began to rub her thighs together, revelling in the softness of her skin…
Ooooh, she was beginning to get terribly aroused by all that she was doing to herself, and she was so glad that everyone else was exhausted and went to bed early for a change.
She began to think of an old torch song that was an absolute favorite of hers, which was performed by her old teenage pop idol Frankie Booth. His sensual falsetto crooned the lyrics to “I’ll Follow You Anywhere” in her head, and she was soon humming the tune as her right hand moved down to her mound. She closed her eyes, continued to hum along to the tune in her head, her fingers stroking her curls, her thighs slowly caressing each other, her aching snatch flooding. It was enough to make her squirm a little bit. She began to fantasize that Frankie was right there in the utility room, kissing her and making sweet love to her as he sang.
She forgot all about the peeping tom behind the eucalyptus tree across the street and – realizing that it might take awhile before the first part of her laundry would be done – made her horny way up to her room in the attic. She was ready for her vibrator. She wished Frankie Booth was upstairs waiting for her.
Too bad for Kent. The attic window was way too high for him to get a good view from any angle anyway. Frustrated and pent, he sulked on home.