Michelle. My belle. How does your garden excel? What manifests Michelle’s garden? Oh easy, my mother’s checking account does. How silly of me. You wear the kaftan. You don the turban. You can forge a check. What a talent you are. And heck, I just thought you were a pie maker that smoked. No. There’s so much more to you, Michelle.
As the curtain rises on the second act, we find our damsel in front of a makeup mirror checking her chin for hairs then applying a healthy ecosystem destroying amount of Aqua Net to finish herself and be ready for the day
. She goes to her mother’s closet and picks a nice pairs of silky palazzo pants, a sleeveless floral and a black onyx necklace (that I bought my real mother one Christmas, and to my knowledge has never been seen again).
My guess is that it’s not alone. I bought Janet Christmas and birthday gifts from Tiffany for several years.
< Like this 24 karat gold necklace with leaf pendant
or this 24 inch necklace of sterling silver globes > 
Hey if you ever spot any of these hanging off the neck of a nut job, do me a solid and grab ’em. Janet loved them and let’s say the bookkeeping department at Tiffany loved me. I guess that love has now passed onto this horrifying embezzling impostor, wherever she is. I’d go with Las Vegas, chasing old men in wheelchairs rolling toward the black jack table.
Oh let me blow on your dice for extra luck, she’d purr whilst disconnecting his oxygen tank.
But back to the 2010 to 2020 decade when I had a sister. She seemed to always answer the phone when I called. She’d say she was expecting an important call and that MOM was napping. Or MOM just couldn’t come to the phone … well yes I know she couldn’t. She’s trapped in an opioid tornado. You have to bring the phone to her SISTER DEAREST.
Janet obviously confided a lot to this freak and trusted her more and more each day and trusted me less and less each day. Every idea had to be run by Michelle for approval. Michelle wouldn’t approve the funding of pool service though the pool had turned into a petri dish of green sludge. Michelle let the housecleaner Maria go. She set up a gmail account in Janet’s name and started sending emails full with angst about how neglected (Michelle the DAUGHTER pretending to be Janet the MOTHER) and abandoned she felt by her two sons. They never called. Had it not been for Michelle, she’d be helpless. Michelle has been my rock this entire time.
Mom, when was the last time she drove you up to see Daddy?
Well I haven’t been feeling all that well and Michelle doesn’t think it’s a good idea to visit him until I’m better.
Why do I make payments on a car that’s not even being used?
Oh it’s being used. Michelle drove to Rhode Island to help her daughter pick out her wedding gown.
I could feel steam rising out of my cell. It was around this time that Janet became reachable only by e-mail, even though I’m certain she didn’t have a clue how to power up a computer. TV remotes. Reclining remotes. Yes she was a master of those gadgets. So I get a call one day from brother (mine not hers) asking who the F is this Michelle person. I asked how he knew about her.
She’s sending me emails about what a terrible son I am. ‘m also a terrible father to my children. She posted that one on Facebook.
Now while I can sit still in the middle of a boiling stew pot to avoid confrontation, my brother cannot. He calls people out on their sh*t. There’s times I wish I had that ability but in this instance he hit a grand slam like Aaron Boone did in game 7 of the 2003 ALCS. He called Michelle and reduced her to the lowlife embezzler she was. He (or maybe I) made the bank aware of her fraudulent behavior. I heard she was shocked and quite angry once she found out. She approached the bank manager, those sons are literally starving MOM to death.
A more realistic response would have been:
Those two sons are the reason we can’t serve Prime Rib at my daughter’s wedding.
This went on for months and virtually all our cousins viewed my brother and I as selfish untamed shrews. We were taking advantage of our cousin’s friend and even making her life difficult. She had the locks changed on the house. If I went to visit my father, she arranged that the front desk of the facility notify her of my presence in the area. She’d then get herself and MOM dressed and off to a mall so I couldn’t see her and couldn’t get into the house. She basically kidnapped Janet. I was able to peak through a window and shocked to see the kind of kitchen that would star in a Hoarders episode. A complete sh*t show. A huge Husky dog who seemingly had free rein of the house and was barking at me and showing teeth. The excessive barking and my car in the driveway prompted a neighbor to call the police and question my presence. Who was I? What was I up to? No, Janet didn’t have a son. She has a daughter.
Well officer, there’s this woman named Michelle … “
Oh sure, Michelle. We love her. She bakes cookies for us folks down at the station.
I was forced to leave the premises. I’m pretty sure the police officer contacted Michelle to make her aware that a person was stalking her house. She insisted they do an hourly driveby from that point on. So I couldn’t reach my mother by phone, in person and the emails I sent were intercepted by her DAUGHTER.
I forgot how intricate this situation gets, so I’ve gotta call this entry Part 2 and crank out a now necessary Part 3 tomorrow.
For those of you who question the validity of this scenario, I get it.
I’d have trouble believing it too, had I not had a front row seat to the matinee.
Stay tuned.