Aunt Antics

Ahh, Christmas.

The one time of year where you see the bits of your family you haven’t seen since the last one.
In my family, this can be quite a joyous occasion since, as I imagine I’ve mentioned previously, my family are all batshit mad. This afternoon we had the pleasure of my mother’s sister, Tori*, stop by the Smith household to regale us with her ever-amusing tales of 2012.

Allow me to share a select few anecdotes that caused me to laugh myself silly this afternoon.

*Disclaimer: all the names in these stories have been changed to protect my aunt’s privacy/myself when she finds out about this blog. Only kidding about the last part. I think.

The Coffin in The Kitchen

Tori and her friend Sara arrange to get together at her house. When she arrives, Sara suggests they get Chinese. Now, although the most logical option on a cold winter’s night would be to order a takeaway, Sara is keen to go and pick it up instead, so she and Tori wander off into the night to collect their delicious Oriental feast.
30 minutes (or thereabouts) later, Tori and Sara return back to the house. Neither spot anything unusual until Tori enters the kitchen.

Where there is a fucking coffin.

Apologies for the language. But this is basically how Tori relayed the story to us. Quote unquote – “I shit you not, there is a fucking coffin in my kitchen”.

Like everyone else in the family, Tori is mental. So instead of screaming or immediately calling the police, she goes to investigate it further, Sara and their tasty bags of deep-fried  morsels in tow (Tori’s initial reaction was apparently “for god’s sake, keep the Chinese away from it!”). As they approach, she sees a pair of FEET at the end of it, where the coffin is cracked slightly open.

Tori, being an avid watcher of all programs supernatural with a wild imagination, immediately jumps to the logical conclusion that a vampire has entered her home. I quote, “My first thought was that it was a vampire that had arrived in a puff of smoke while we were out”. Her cat, Twig (ironic – he’s a huge ginger monster) is sat outside the kitchen going absolutely crazy, which is proof enough for Tori that this creature in the coffin is not from this world. And then she realises how stupid that sounds – it MUST just be a homeless person who usually sleeps rough inside a coffin, but tonight has treated himself to a night at chez Tori without disturbing any of the locks somehow. Right?
She turns to Sara, who looks terrified. “Have you set this up?!” demands Tori, but Sara denies all knowledge.
The fear is beginning to set in, so Tori suggests that they call the police. “And say what? That there’s a coffin in your kitchen?” says Sara. So instead, Tori then suggests that she knocks on her neighbours door. Again, Sara is doubtful as to whether she should.
(I do believe the conversation went along the lines of
Sara: Well what are they going to do?!
Tori: I don’t know… He’s a man!)

Sara tries to kick the lid off the coffin while Tori paces around the kitchen, trying to think of a solution. Then Sara really starts freaking out, which then sets Tori (and Twig) off. At this point, all that can be heard from the house is a chorus of screams and screeches, before Tori picks up the phone and dials 999 while yelling “I’M CALLING THE POLICE” at Sara. “NO, DON’T CALL THE POLICE, DON’T CALL THE POLICE”, Sara shouts back – at the same moment a man with a werewolf’s head jumps out of the coffin, causing Tori to scream in terror.

Until she notices Sara laughing.

And werewolf head man removes his furry disguise in true Scooby Doo fashion.

And Tori realises it has all been a prank.

However, the emergency services have now picked up the phone. Tori hurriedly puts down the phone, but two minutes later there is a loud thumping at the door.

The police have come to join the party. Apparently, upon hearing screaming and “DON’T CALL THE POLICE” shouted repeatedly, they’re obligated to intervene.

At which point, a very humiliated Tori has to explain that her idiot friend has played a prank on her, and werewolf man is actually just Sara’s boyfriend who had been doing work on her house earlier that week and had had an extra key cut in order to pull off this elaborate prank. The best part was, he had earlier set up cameras in her house to catch her reaction on camera. The police were absolutely delighted to have the footage, and promised to tell all their colleagues in Gravesend and Maidstone departments.

Stuck in Greenwich Park, from the perspective of Tori via her facebook status

“OMG! Could this afternoon have gone any worse if I tried??? Went to Greenwich and actually managed to find a parking space just OUTSIDE the park (that’s a first). When we walked into the park saw the car park was virtually empty and being the lazy bitch I am, decided to go back and get the car and move it to INSIDE the park, so it wouldn’t be too far to walk back ….. Didn’t realise they locked the bloody gates at 6pm and we arrived back at the bottom gate at 6.03pm to find a locked gate. Hot footed it up the hill outside of park (nearly killed me), only to find the main gate locked too, with my car INSIDE!!!! Eventually managed to climb over the huge ‘kin gates at the front (more like clawed my way over, not a pretty sight), then drove around the park, in bits you aren’t meant to, – that was actually quite fun :))) – looking for someone who might actually be able to let us out, but NO. In the end called the police to come and rescue us from the park. Only had to wait 2 hours for them to drive back from winter wonderland – as you do – for them to come out with the key. When they eventually arrived and unlocked the gates for us, my ‘kin car battery had died cause I had the heating on. Police then had to jump start my car, they couldn’t find the battery (no point asking me, I didn’t even know where the hazard lights were kept). Then [boyfriend, won’t mention name] was helping them with the light from his phone, until that battery died and then my phone died. Then in my daze, got lost leaving Blackheath (how the hell do you do that???) only to find the petrol light had come on”.

The Boyfriend

Tori, who was 42 this month, has got herself a 26 year old Turkish toyboy. He is married. I know… What. The. Hell.
For obvious reasons, they have been keeping their relationship a secret. But it’s fine, as she has diagnosed his wife as a sadistic narcissist with bipolar disorder. (In fairness, from some of the other stories re the boyfriend, she does sound pretty nasty).
For Christmas, she bought the boyfriend an expensive aftershave. When he expressed concerns about the possibility of being rumbled by his wife, she instructed him to tell her that “he had found it on the train, all wrapped up nicely in it’s bag. Well… that’s possible?”

Ladies and gentlemen, a round of applause for my aunt Tori.
I’m largely looking forward to seeing the rest of my mum’s sisters and my lovely, offensive granddad over the remainder of the festive period. I imagine I’ll be back with more family stories soon.

Hope everyone had a nice Christmas! If not, then I hope whatever went wrong is worth telling stories about. (And if so, then PLEASE feel free to share your stories in a comment/give me a link to your blog!)

Z. x