Frequently Axed Questions #2 -- How did I Figure it Out Edition -- Part 2

The Continuation of a Go Thank Yourself Story

It was only a matter of time . . .

Image Courtesy of PFFK#7

The Recapper

Part 1, entitled “Hey, Don’t Beat Yourself Up -- Let Me Do It”, started out like this:

I get asked a lot how I finally figured out that my mom, Hannibal Anne, was a psychopath and my dad, Fredo, was a totally brainwashed weakling . . . . in my opinion, that is[1].

I then described how I arranged a free all expense paid romantic 45th anniversary dinner for my parents, when I was out of town -- or so they thought -- and surprised them by showing up. Their response, it didn’t thrill us. They ate the food and tried to kill us . . . with their eyes anyway.

If you haven’t read Part 1, I recommend it. It’s a hoot. It’s also required reading for our story today, on account of it being Part 1 of a 2 part story.

So, now that we are comfortably nestled in Part 2, I will tell you the rest of the story.

Ultimately, at the end of the night, when all the pieces fell into place, I saw the signs and then added them up. When I did, it opened up my eyes. I saw the signs.

Listen with Ace of Base The Sign

The Boomergang Returns

It is January 13, 2021, and is my third and final unannounced surprise visit to Amarillo.

I had made two prior unannounced visits to Amarillo in October and November, 2020. At this point, I knew things with my family were way off. I was determined to find out how, and more importantly, why. So I made these unannounced visits to see things for my own darn self and figure it out one way or t’other. The best way to study a situation is to not let the situation know it is being studied in the first place. In other words, if your target is unaware you are about to descend upon them, they have no time to prepare and you can observe them in their natural environment. You know, like on those BBC nature shows, with that English guy, what’s his name, David Attaboy? Or like the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle -- which I first heard about in High School chemistry or physics, can’t remember. And, no, that is not a reference to Breaking Bad; well, maybe indirectly by proxy.

So, it is January 13, 2021. Oh wait, let’s step back a bit. I had previously arrived in Dallas on January 7, 2021, and stayed at the Mansion on Turtle Creek. Love that place. It’s a Rosewood property now, though it was bought out by a Dallas based property fund a few years ago. Anyway, this was when the hotel let me drive their brand new promotional super flashy comfy yet powerful Lexus vehicle that the Lexus Company lent them. It was also the same trip when the Sex Toy Company sales people were at dinner one evening. What a conversation that was. All as more fully and accurately described in the Episode entitled [?] I forgot. Oh, here it is.

Mr. and Mrs. Bojangles

Back to January 13th. I arrived in Amarillo. Dropped by #6 Accosted to surprise my parents. Only my dad, Fredo, was there. Scared the literal bojangles out of him. By coincidence, I came face to face with him in the narrow doorway entrance which goes from the garage, through the laundry room for some reason, and into the breakfast room for some reason. He was walking in as I was walking out. He had no idea I was there. He saw me. I could see his mind saying “wait, who is this?”. When he finally registered it was me (I), the front of his face “literally” tried to retreat into the back of his head, his nose went flat, and he made a little squeak. At least that’s how I remember it. He was scared. Again, why? That was a sign.

Really, though, why? I am not a fearsome person -- not then anyway. Now I wouldn’t want to mess with me.

Huggy Bear Arrives

After that I drove over to my sister’s(?) neighborhood. She and her husband, Dr. Belkie, live in one of those subdivisions built around a golf course. Their house backed onto a long green with the golf-cart path. There are two ways to get to her house, the direct way and the back way. I took the back way which curves around past several greens, goes over a pond with a bridge (where I went fishing with my Nieces one day and then fished out golf balls for Dr. Belkie, for which I dutifully got in trouble for. . . for some reason), and eventually turns into her street. As I was approaching the final curve, I saw my sister(?) walking on the golf cart path and carrying her dog -- Winnie. She looked depressed. I stopped the car, got out and approached her. I got to listen to her tell my all the ways I am at fault for everything. That’s OK. I’m used to that. Then she concluding with, “You are trouble.” My response, “OK. Maybe. Give me three specific examples of how I am trouble, and I will work on them.” No examples were forthcoming. More vague answers. Another sign.

Seriously, I reckon her dog -- Winnie -- likes me more than they do. It’s mutual.

Then, I said “can I have a hug?”. We hugged. That should have been the end of it. I asked if I could see her newly built house. She declined. Later in the day, back at #6 Accosted, Fredo already knew about the hug and said, accusingly, “who asked for the hug?” I said I did. Somehow, for some reason, asking for a hug is now a bad thing. Personally, I think sisters should be allowed to hug just because they want to. Anyway, that was another sign.

Oh yeah, I found out later that Myron’s wife -- I guess that would be my sinister-in-law -- had been camped out at my sister’s(?) house for months. Prolly why she was depressed. Anyway, that’s why she wouldn’t let me inside her newly built house. I am really not that scary, though everyone seemed to be hiding from me.

I decided it was time to get the cluck out of Amarillo.

Here I am at Camp Grandmama

So, I loaded up the Batmobile and moved to Gruverly.

Listen with Camp Grenada

I spent two weeks in January 2021 in Gruver with my Grandmother. It is the longest time I had ever stayed with her and it was a blast. One afternoon we were driving around. She was in the backseat, with a tiara, waiving like the Queen. People waved back. I told you that story before. I just like repeating it.

We really had a ball!

One afternoon, though, I had to come out with it. We were in her kitchen and I was sitting on the floor in Larry Mahan boots -- the only kind of boots if you are a Texan, though Miron Crosby in Dallas makes some nice boots (I stopped buying them, though, once I saw their promotion with the Kard-asses). There is a scene in No Country for Old Men, where the injured Llewelyn Moss (played superbly by Josh Brolin) walks into a clothing store, I think in El Paso, and asks for clothes and a pair of boots, Larry Mahans size 11. Great movie.

Anyway, my Mahans have a sterling silver “J” hammered into each heal. My Grandfather’s cattle brand was the Lazy J, so these boots are sentimental to me. I started crying and told her a bit of what had been happening. The blocking, the alienating, the name calling, the lying, the viciousness. I told her she didn’t have to respond; it wasn’t about choosing a side.

The biggest problems in my life -- no matter how big -- a trip to my Grandmother’s would help me straighten things out. Most of those problems I didn’t verbalize. I didn’t have to. She would know. Or just being there soothed my soul enough so I could at least see the light at the end of the rainbow. Solutions would come to me just by being with her and in their home. My Grandparent’s love and guidance is bigger than any problem I have ever had. Her eyes did not leave me once while I relayed what was playing out. She held silent for a moment and then slowly clasped her hands together. I then looked up at her eyes, they were narrowed. She said “well it definitely sounds like your mom is doing something under the table. I know you will get it worked out. I have faith in you.” My Grandmother never really talked about peoples foibleations, and I wasn’t sure if she knew what kind of monster my Hannibal Anne really was. After this conversation, I knew that she did.

I stayed in the North facing suite -- where the cattle in the neighboring field start squealing reliably at sun-up. This bedroom is also attached to the bathroom Myron had defecated and smeared all over the walls when he was 2 or 3. Talk about a red sign. Hannibal Anne had to clean it up. She was livid.

She’s always livid. She will try to make you live her crazy livid life. Like that Ricky Martin song “Livid La Vida Loca“.

Listen with Ricky Martin Livid La Vida Loca

The Great and Powerful Wise Ladies of Gruver

Meanwhile throughout my time in Gruver, we would drop my Grandmother at the morning coffee gang -- 10am sharp every weekday, except Wednesday, when the Open Door, (the Methodist Church thrift store) was open. On a return trip in April, I found out my Uncle Ricky told the coffee gang that my Grandmother could no longer go. Why? Was he afraid of what the gang might say? Don’t know. I do know this, however -- that is one more thing I will never forgive him for.

I love each of the women in the coffee gang. They are all wonderful! In most small rural towns in Texas, you will find the wise older ladies of the coffee gang are the real seat of power.

The ladies were all asking “what is going on with your mom?” or “how is your mom’s health?” Most of my replies were “I don’t know. I have offered to take my parents to Mayo at least a dozen times and they refuse.” The most universal reply was either “your mom doesn’t look well” or “that’s something else.” What else, I was beginning to discover. Anyway, pretending to be ill is a classic psychopath technique. Hannibal Anne has claimed to be sick so many times -- when nothing then happened -- I stopped paying attention.

On Sundays, we would go to church and wear hats from my grandmother’s collection. It was like adult dress up. We would always see the town fixture Scotty. Scotty (and his now deceased twin brother Guy Paul) were born with developmental issues. In many places, they might have been sent away to an institution. Not in Gruver. People look after each other there, especially the less fortunate. The people of Gruver -- especially the ladies -- took them in, looked after them and made them a part of everyday life.

So, it was great seeing Scotty. We delivered cookies to his golf cart a few times. It still cracks me up that Scotty usually greets me with my first and last name.

On that trip, we also had chef hats for her cooking classes and ended each evening with Family Feud. That show can get a little racy. It’s where I learned the term “hamflower.” I think that’s in the Urban Dictionary. You can, but probably don’t have to, look it up.

The Wayback to Amarillo

The end of January I headed to Amarillo to have my car serviced. It’s a shiny black Mercedes with the sports package, in case you’re wondering. You know, back in the days when your car wasn’t tracking you, ratting you out and calling you stupid. One of the nicest highway driving cars ever, by the way. This is the same exact car described in the Episode entitled “The Road Not Taken“ in which we learn about the rear passenger side wheel having been sabotaged by “someone”, sending us into the soft hands of a giant snow bank on Christmas Eve 2022.

Once in Amarillo, I dropped off my car at the service shop, hopped into an Uber and went to #6 Accosted. Had a nice chat with the Uber driver -- ex military. I said I was going to see my mom, and said for no reason “that one will claw ya”. Then I called her “Cranky Bear.”

No one was home when I arrived. I sat at the kitchen bar, like I have over and over since 1991.

Cranky Bear Returns

Then she appeared; Hannibal came through the back door. Since my car was not in the drive way, she must have thought the coast was clear, I was not there, and she would have safe passage. Not today, sadly.

She let out a loud UGH and there it was again, the jutting out jutting jaw. Aggressively she said, “what are YOU doing here?” as her head tilted to the side. I just replied “Uhhh, I live here, plus I’m waiting for the Batmo to get serviced.” I was looking at her as she flung her discount dry cleaning bag onto the table. She was wearing snowboots (there wasn’t snow outside). They did, however, look like they could easily be hosed off. You know, in the event any evidence needed to be removed -- not that I am saying that happened mind you. She also had a puffer top on with a fake fur like collar. She looked like Pam Hupp’s twin, from that Dateline series about the women who kills her “friend” for insurance money and fingers her friend’s husband.

Then Hannibal said “you better stop going over to your sisters, she will get a “restaining” order on you.” I would have laughed but her appearance was so confusing. So I asked “for what?” You need a reason, and driving onto someone’s driveway one time won’t cut it. My sister had me blocked, for some reason, for over six months, at this point. She and Hannibal like doing the silent treatment thing, thinking it’s effective. Maybe it used to be. Not now. Another sign.

Check out My Check List While My DJ Revolves It

This is when Hannibal threw her arms out and started making circular motions, with her eyes bulging out. I thought to myself, be careful there, don’t want to pop an “Enyaism”. As the arms and hands were making fast circles she said “because of ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL of THIS!” She was waving her arms like a hepped up DJ or a gaggle of birds jostling each other at the feeder. Like this:

Image Courtesy of PFFK#7

I thought there isn’t much on the counter here and asked “all of what?” She said “just you being here”.

So I decided to engage. “OK, specifically what would you like me to do?”

“Stop going by Myron’s”. “OK, check, stop going to Myron’s. What else” I said.

“Stop going by your sister’s.” “Check,” I responded, “Don’t go to my sister’s(?). Got it. What else?”

Stop coming by here.” “Check, stop coming here.”

Hannibal Anne, in her Pam Hupp Halloween outfit, had stopped waiving her arms by this point. She still had the jutting jaw jutting out and said “I am really sick of dealing with all of this.”

My reply “Well, you should just go thank yourself.” She didn’t get it. “What should I thank myself for?” she asked -- like genuinely.

“For everything you do” I responded.

With that, she turned around and huffed out of the back door. It was a bit embarrassing.

You might remember the voicemail which I received a few weeks later. Here it is for a repeat:

Another sign.

Bah, I Deride Your Chicken Getting Abilities

Later that same day, I am walking down the steps and I hear “You don’t get no chicken” being argued back and forth with the Alexa listening device machine. Even with varying accents. Hilarious! Hannibal Anne had relayed a story a year or so earlier that ended with the line “you don’t get no chicken”. So the chicken thing was making fun of Hannibal Anne. It was also some kinda spiritually guided geniuosity in my non-humble opinion.

But wait, there’s more! Here’s the best part, a few hours later Fredo began repeating the origin of the phrase “you don’t get no chicken”. Reader’s Note: This Episode originally had the rest of that story, but the Studio told us we were running long and had to cut it out. Not to worry. It will be in The Director’s Cut -- Bonus Features. Look out for it. You will not be disappointed.

So this was another sign. A big one. This one confirmed my suspicion they had been listening to me live through the Alexa listening device machine. Sounds like an invasion of privacy, where one has the expectation of said privacy. Is all I’m sayin’.

Coda Chameleon

That night I watched a movie with Fredo. The Accountant maybe. Hannibal Anne was in her bedroom, with the door locked, I heard the click. It was like the bullcr@p had combusted and turned into green slime. The slime had a fog around it and was oozing out of the bottom of the door. I think the chicken performance hit home and really got to her.

So, Hannibal Anne was livid, again. She’s always livid. Fredo watched a movie with me and she did not like it? I blame the chicken this time, because (a) she knew she was busted and (b) we were making some serious fun of her. I knew all about the Alexa listening device machine before this.

There is the lesson in this tree. Psychopaths, despite being devoid of all emotion, have surprisingly thin skins. The only thing they fear is getting busted. Plus, laughing at them (not with them) is an effective weapon. It’s also fun.

Early February 2021, I had to speak with Fredo. He said he was driving through Fritch and may stop to look at an apartment. “Fredo, what for?” I asked, “An apartment in Fritch? You could stay with Muff.” He said, “I need to be closer to Amarillo. Your mom has threatened to throw me out. She is talking divorce.” [He should have accepted -- ed.] This was surprising to me. Curious, I asked “for what?” Fredo explained that Hannibal Anne was mad at him and guess whose fault it was? We all know the answer. That’s right, the escapegoat child, Texas edition, i.e., me. I was getting blamed again. That’s OK. I’m used to it. I would tell you where Fritch is, but you don’t want to go there. They do have an Allsup’s there. I recommend the torpedo burrito and dried socks. It is also by a giant lake reservoir called Lake Meredith, known by some as The Fritz Thompson Memorial Graveyard.

---

Now this trip is over. I packed up my bags and got the cluck out of there!

One more time for the road. Hannibal Anne, you have my permission to go THANK yourself.

Listen with Boz Scaggs Lido Shuffle

Let’s Wrap This Up Folks -- We don’t got all day!

How did I figure it out?

Let’s wrap this up into a nice little bow.

Image courtesy of PFFK#7

On the first set of unannounced trips in Oct and Nov 2020, I saw things were off. I also concluded my family hated me. Why?

On the last unannounced visit, a few things happened. First, I spent time with my Grandmother where the answers always came. Then I started seeing and adding up all the signs. And last, I saw a totally freaked out Hannibal Anne.

That is when the full body mask fell off. Off of all of them. Their shapeshifting spells no longer worked on me.

I saw they did in fact despise adorable little me. They did not want me around. What did they not want me to see?

I don’t need an answer to that question precisely. The question itself is what’s relevant. I have a few theories, though, every one involving bad and likely criminal behaviour. It was clear to me now. These are bad folks. I do not want to be associated with them. When they go down, I will not be there to take the fall with or for them.

---

[1] I could have added a few more “thats” to the above mentioned question, e.g.,

How did I figure out --

· That my brother(?), Myron -- the other female psychopath in my family -- is a straight up grifter, thinks “prolly” is an actual word and is a second class ass (nothing he ever does is first class), or

· That Myron’s wife, The Marm, is itself a straight up bolt hole surfing taker, “a little slow” (wink emoji), and exceedingly unlikable -- everybody says so.

· In my totally First Amendment protected opinion at least

But I already knew those things, so I didn’t need to figure them out.