Tuesday, March 22, 2011

OK, The Truth

You know, I get so tired of talking about it. The cops ask me questions, and then people ask me what the cops asked me, and the newspaper and TV people – everyone wants to talk about it. Of course the worst part, though, is that no one believes me. In fact, the newspaper people made up their own version of what happened.

OK, my husband’s family, his uncle, we used to live together. You know how crowded that can get, two families together, and all their stuff. To tell you the truth, I was never that crazy about his uncle anyway, but don’t tell anyone I said that. The guy kept making stuff up, you know, hearing voices and stuff. Finally we just moved. Even my husband couldn’t take it any more. Well, we had the girls to worry about too, you know!

So we move to this nice little town. Well, it was sort of nice. I mean, it wasn’t a dump or anything. The women were real nice, welcoming me and the girls. We did all that usual stuff together that women do together. They never once treated us like outsiders, the women, and someone should put THAT into the record. But no, no one thinks THAT part is interesting. They just want to talk about the bad stuff.

OK, so there we were, living in this town, not having a bad life at all. If my husband had problems, he didn’t mention them. You know how men are. They keep everything to themselves. Then they say dumb stuff like “you know why I’m mad.” Right. Or they sulk. There’s nothing worse than a sulking man. OK-- nothing except a man who’s just a little bit sick, although try telling THEM that! One sneeze is the end of the world!

But my husband, he had a decent job in this town, my daughters and I did well, the girls grew up into young ladies any mother would be proud of. It wasn’t long before they had suitors, young men who wanted to marry them and treat them well. Such nice boys. Both girls were engaged at the same time, I’m proud to say. Both were going to be fine wives, just as I taught them.

Then THOSE men came. My husband brought them home, said they needed a place to stay. OK, we had guests before. Hospitality is important to us. Gotta be nice to people. Well, the other men in the town, they didn’t like the guests. That’s the truth. The guests dressed kind of funny, all fancy colors on their clothes and stuff. You know how small towns can get. They just don’t like outsiders, especially if they look so, well, different.

So I make my husband’s favorite meal for his guests. They start in on the wine – we all drink wine with our meals, mostly because the water’s so terrible. Anyway, we’re eating and drinking and there’s this loud noise outside, and not a very nice-sounding noise. Next thing you know, there’s pounding on the door.

Now I gotta tell you, this is where the newspapers start making stuff up. The neighbors, the men who were banging on the door, they just wanted the strange men who were our guests to come outside. They wanted to know who these strangers were who dressed so fancy. OK, the men from the town were a little drunk; they’d already had their own suppers I guess. You know how a little too much wine makes men, well, less than nice. But the town men never planned to DO anything to our guests. Well, not anything major anyway. But instead, the newspapers made up all this horrid stuff about what the men wanted to do to our guests. And THEN, like that’s not enough, the papers said that my husband offered to send our daughters out instead. Can you believe that? My husband would NEVER do such a thing!

Well, I can understand my husband wanting to be nice to our guests. That’s the right thing to do. We still had some wine left over from supper, and so my husband offered the men outside the wine. I know what you’re thinking: Why give wine to a bunch of rowdies who are already drunk? But I gotta tell you, it worked! He gave them the wine, and they passed around to each other and then passed out.

Personally, I think that should have been the end of it, but the guests thought there were gonna be more problems once the men woke up, so they told us to get the heck out of there. My daughters – their fianc├ęs didn’t want to go, and we ended up leaving without them. Just took off out of town like the Devil Himself was after us. Men panic over the smallest things!

Well, I’d say “the rest is history,” but the press has messed that up too. My family and I, we were never apart during the whole ordeal. When we finally found another nice, quiet town, there I was with my husband and daughters. It wasn’t at all like that lame story the newspapers made up.

Lot, he says not to worry about it. He says no one really believes what they read anymore. He’s such a good husband.

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