The Feloni Family Chronicles as
told by The Broad from Abroad
Let me tell you a
little story about a family named Feloni, who also happen to be my former
in-laws, some three husband’s ago.
Since meeting them
and suffering two other bad marriages, I’ve taken a vow of celibacy and have
taken up race cars. Actually racing
them, not collecting little plastic models with teeny metal wheels.
I’d like to start
with a portrait of my ex-sister-in-law, Brindle Zima Feloni, mother of the
Feloni heirs to the Feloni Family Trailer Park and Olive Oil Conglomerate, the
Lovely Agnetta and Belladonna Feloni.
Brindle has been
married between boyfriends to the second eldest Feloni son, Grunt Feloni. His real name, as you’ve guessed, is not
Grunt. It’s Giovanni Carlissimo
Feloni. We call him Grunt because, well,
he grunts instead of talking. Meet Grunt
and you know where the missing link between Neanderthal and Homo sapiens seeded
itself and flourished.
When he isn’t
grunting approval to himself at the Conservative talk radio shows he loves,
Grunt is out hunting squirrels. Brindle
likes to sell the skins online. She uses
her proceeds to stock her subzero with Zima and to buy matching seat cushions
for the window seat in her double-wide trailer.
Carlissimo and
Brindle Zima put the “fun” in dysfunctional before the word even gained common,
household use. Brindle, devoted daughter
to her Daddy Craig Abhoresen, prefaces every sentence with “My Daddy
says!!!” At which point, you, the
listener/opponent are meant to crumble in fear.
No one wants Daddy Craig and his child bride Jennifer waiting for you on
the porch of your double-wide on a lonely, dark night. No, the thought of Craig with his belt hiked
up to his armpits, rheumy eyes bleary with rage and cheap beer, fly swatter in
hand, was terrifying. Jennifer alone was
enough to strike terror into an in-law’s heart; you lived in fear those tight
spandex shorts would one day pop off her and slap you right in the face. Heaven knows what abrasions they might leave.
Brindle managed
Mamma’s Feloni cupcake/savings&loan business on the side. She managed to skim off her own frosting fund
to the tune of several thousand dollars. She could buy a lot of cases of Zima,
her namesake beverage of choice, and throw pillows for that. A lot of make up at the local dollar store,
too. She had to look pretty for her guys, and she didn’t mean Grunt. And then of course there were the girls. Belladonna’s combination 8th grade
graduation/sweet sixteen party hadn’t come cheap. And of course, Agnetta had
that wedding- christening thing coming up.
It was great being able to combine events, and Mamma Feloni always let
them use her own double-wide as a guest house for Daddy Craig and the other
relatives.
Yes, I remember
Feloni family gatherings well. We were
great at multitasking and even planning. Combined celebrations were our
specialty. One of the triumphs of the
social season was the combination Papa Feloni’s “I was finally granted Parole
party” with the 50th Anniversary of the elder Felonis, Mama and
Papa. After we watched a “Desperate
Housewives” narrative on the movie-sized flat screen, Brindle passed out the
role we would play the ensuing, well – planned family fight. Mine role was usually scapegoat; whatever
everyone else did that could not be handled for any reason became my
issue. The script of answers I was
given read “Yes, Brindle,” “Of course it’s my fault, brindle”, “You’re right,
Brindle,” and “Yes, of course we should listen to Daddy Craig.”
After years of such
family fun, and enough heartburn from badly cooked pasta and flank steak
diluted with the cheapest beer available and Two Buck Chuck, I divorced their
oldest son, Danny Delight Feloni, much to their disbelief.
When the ink to our
divorce papers dried, my story really began.
No comments:
Post a Comment