Riddle me this

By Tiber

I came home very late last night and ran into our reclusive Aunt April, roaming the third floor halls. We think she’s still pining for Jasper, that renter we had here for awhile but honestly, we know very little about Aunt April at all.

We do agree that one key to her life, pre-recluse, is “the black thing on her nightstand.” It clearly holds a place of importance. No one knows what it is but when we were kids, we each had our own theory.

Vanessa decided Aunt April had been left at the altar so she’d then “empowered herself and cut off the man’s penis.” I don’t think the word I‘d use would be “empowered.” “Excessive” would be more like it.

Iris Nell believes the thing is an Olympic silver medal, cried over for so many years for not being gold that it’s now grown black with mold.

Kru decided it was the final dropping from a much-loved pet. When Duncan informed him that crap would have disintegrated by now, Kru just insisted that she’d had it shellacked.

Erin thinks it’s part of a favorite childhood doll that Dad torched when they were both kids themselves.

And I’ve always maintained that Aunt April had once been the “Twinkie-Queen-of-New-Orleans.” But she’d lost the business in a poker game and this was all that was left of her stock.

Duncan claims it’s one of Aunt April’s own fingers – that she’d been a famous concert pianist until one day when a crucial digit had just fallen off. He always told us it was genetic and would soon be happening to us too.

Aunt April used to tell Dad we all lacked self-confidence, since we kept looking down so much. The truth was, we were just trying to figure out which one of her fingers was fake.


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