Cousin Jake Weighs In

Cousin Jake contacted us to let us know he believes it is wrong for us to ignore him. He knows it’s because we prefer to hear only warm fuzzy stories from the kin who got things handed to them on a silver platter. Jeez, I can't recall seeing any silver platters in any of our houses. Jake wants the truth exposed no matter how hard it is for him to tell it (or us to believe it), so here’s his story:

I live in a shack on disability. (Rose here--we’re not sure if “ disability” is the location or the standard of living, teehee). I was injured while serving in the armed forces, you see I had desk duty and my back just couldn’t handle it. The only friends I have are my five pure white German Shepherds. These are the only friends to have because they don’t talk and they never want you to go to the beach. My human family has nothing to do with me because they can’t stand the honesty I bring to the table. I don’t know why I have been burdened with the mind I have. Being able to see the world and everyone in it for what they are is truly a burden no one else can understand.

I have lived my life on the edge, hanging with what most people consider the dung of the world. I’ve been an outlaw biker but had to go into hiding from that gang. They don’t like it when you are smart enough to know bikes are dangerous and so you don’t ever own a bike. They are so ignorant. But I’m getting ahead of myself, let me start at the beginning……

My Momma was a bad woman; she was taken in by the Chuckleberry’s after she fell out of a passing car. Whoever was driving the car either didn’t know she fell out or they didn’t care, probably the latter. She wasn’t much to look at and had little to no personality so they named her Reba (Rose here again, I don’t know where Jake gets this stuff, Grandma named her Reba because she saw the name in a dream and thought the little bouncing baby was a gift from God; a God that didn’t like babies too much, since this one was all scraped up and a little bruisy like a banana on the bread makin’ side of life). I think the Chuckleberry’s treated her like a slave but if you ask her they were very nice to her and she loves them all. She married my Dad after writing letters to some guy that was in the war. She says they got married by mail, whatever that means. My folks have been married for like 60 years and say they are happy but I know they hate each other and all their kids. I know they support all their other worthless children, they never gave me anything but even if they tried I wouldn’t take anything from them, it’s tainted.

You know the government is watching everything you do and they know everything about you. But I’m too smart for them, they have tried to recruit me to show them I get around all their surveillance equipment but I’m not giving away any of my secrets. My house is a fortress and no one can get onto the property without me knowing who they are and what they want. I have cameras everywhere and before my dogs ate my television set I could see the complete perimeter 24/7. I have a lot to lose if big brother ever gains access to my domain!

Speaking of big brothers mine is a real ass. Mom and Dad always gave him everything he wanted. When they gave me a car when I was 14 he was 18 and had a job and the folks gave him $200.00 for a down payment on his first car. He just couldn’t be happy that I got something first. No one seems to realize that he wasn’t a mechanic and should just take the bus. We won’t even discuss sisters, mine are all evil wenches who think that sending me birthday cards every year will make all their bad deeds invisible.

A few years ago they asked me to build and drive race cars for the NASCAR circuit. They must’ve seen my souped up Chevy Caprice. It’s the fastest car in town, I have to have a fast car to keep big brother off my back. As soon as I get the thing running I may go to the Carolina’s and check in with the NASCAR guys, I’ll show them.

(Rose here again--I think Jake's NASCAR number will be 666, if he ever gets that Caprice off those blocks)

Chuckleberry Beginnings

When Grandma Chuckleberry came to live with us, not only did she bring her knitting and alligator, she also brought the family history. She was lucid on Tuesdays, but the rest of the week was a little touch and go. So we all gathered on Tuesdays to hear what she had to say about the Chuckleberry Family history as well as her thoughts on the far-flung Chuckleberry Nuts that we fondly refer to as 'kin'.

After spending several Tuesdays with Grandma Chuckleberry, we knew we couldn't keep this to ourselves. We contacted a few of the more interesting Chuckleberry descendants to see if they'd like to share their version of the Chuckleberry legacy. We were more than surprised at the enthusiastic response from the extended Chuckleberrys.

We've heard from Cindy, the budding singer/songwriter, who lives in a trailer with her dog, hamster and three parakeets. If we're lucky, she'll share some of her talent with us. We've renewed our acquaintance with Trixie, Cindy's mom, who is beginning a new life after a failed marriage or two. We'll learn about her battle with her addictions to ugly shoes, fast cars and stupid men. Trust me, once you get her started, it's hard to slow down that freight train.

And that's just a start. We have a whole pile of Chuckleberry 'kin' waiting in the wings, just itchin' to share their lives with you. I'm hoping that you'll enjoy these people as much as we have. Oh yeah, we won't forget about Grandma. Tuesday rolls around pretty regularly, so with a little patience, we'll eventually learn all there is to learn about the Chuckleberry heritage.