MY TWIN SISTER AND I were home, doing high school homework one night when we got the news. A drunk had run a red light and ploughed into our parents’ car, killing both of them. It was just the start of a very long nightmare.
First Sis and I had to go down and identify the bodies of our parents. I was able to identify the bodies enough to satisfy the police.
Jan, my sister took one look at the bodies and became almost totally incoherent. The police took Jan’s reaction as a positive identification of the bodies.
Then I had to fill out an endless stack of forms. Toward the end, Jan had recovered enough that she was able to help a little, mainly by providing me with detail data.
Then I was allowed to peer at the drunken son-of-a-bitch who murdered my parents, through a glass window at the hospital. I was allowed no closer to the son-of-a-bitch than that. Just as well. If I ever catch the drunken bastard somewhere, I’ll kill him, slow and hard.
With my parents’ car smashed beyond repair, I then had to take my near hysterical sister home on the bus.
When we got home, I gave Jan a glass of booze and then a sleeping pill. The combination was probably not a good idea, but it knocked Jan out and let her get a night’s sleep.
That night, I lay in my bed in a state of rage. All I could think of was killing the drunk.
ONCE JAN AND I are again able to sleep nights, then the real nightmare starts. Our father has a small insurance policy, through his work. The money from that insurance policy keeps us alive for a while.
Of course, my mother and father had friends. The friends attend the funeral for our parents. The friends are properly dressed in dark clothes. They have kind and flattering words to say about the departed. However, what with the way the economy is, they don’t have a job for the son of the departed. However, they assure me, “You won’t need to go to work right away and the insurance money will take care of you until things get better.”
It's strange how easy it is to think that a few words of encouragement can take the place of real help. After all, my sister and I aren't friends of the people, only my mother and father were friends of the people who came to the funeral. Surely someone else will take care of the kids. Someone always takes care of the kids after a tragedy, don’t they?
The drunk’s insurance company then decides not to pay. Although there are witnesses who testify that the drunk ran a red light just before he crashed into my parents, the insurance company somehow manages to convince themselves that my parents were drunk also. The insurance company has no witnesses and no basis for the belief that my parents were drunk, but the insurance company does have lawyers. Thus, the insurance company decides to fight the matter through the courts for several years. While my sister and I wait for the big insurance settlement, we have to survive somehow.
My sister and I go to the Social Security people. The Social Security people will give us a few crusts of bread, but only until we turn eighteen years old. The Social Security money mostly goes to pay for the funeral. Oh yes, there's also a Social Security death benefit The Social Security death benefit is $255.
The local welfare people have no concern for my sister and me. They have so many who need help and they can’t afford to support able bodied adults. If course, my sister and I aren't yet eighteen years old, but by the time the welfare people can get the paper work done, we'll be eighteen years old and adults as far as the welfare people are concerned.
My sister and I review the valuable skills we learned in high school. My sister is in a college prep course and has made good grades. However, there's no one locally, or anywhere else that we can find, who's interested in funding a scholarly high school dissertation on ‘The Merchant of Venice.’
My sister does the best she can and manages to get a job, after school and Saturdays, working at some sort of fancy ladies boutique downtown.
I wasn’t in a high school college prep course and I have some shop classes. The local people mostly just sneer at my high school shop classes. When tested, I can actually do the mechanical or electrical work that they have to offer. However, I don’t have any paid experience. Most of the local businesses only hire people with previous full time paid experience. There's a sort of unwritten minimum of one year’s full time paid experience. Since I don’t have enough paid experience, I can’t get a steady job. (I often think on the problem. No one will hire me, despite my demonstrated skills, because I don’t have a year’s full time paid experience. I can’t get a year’s full time paid experience, because no one will hire me. The only conclusion that I can come up with is that most and, maybe all, adults are insane.)
I take the GED test, pass it, then quit going to high school and manage to get a part time job at the big factory just outside town. The big factory also requires previous paid experience. The factory has the usual minimum of one year’s paid experience. However, since I have previously done some summer work at the factory, they're willing to bend the rules enough to give me part time work. I do well with the part time work; however, I can’t get a steady job at the factory.
By the time my sister and I turn eighteen years old and she graduates from high school, we have settled into financial survival mode. We can make the mortgage payments on our house, feed ourselves and provide at least most of the necessities. However, even with both of us working at low paid jobs, it's a struggle just to keep the bills paid.
I’m trying desperately to get full time work. However, the people I work for down at the factory keep putting me off with bullshit excuses. I can’t argue too hard, or I may lose even the part time work.
My Sister’s Plan
ONE EVENING AFTER WORK, my sister sits me down for a sales pitch. Sis isn't too good at the sales pitch thing and I know that it’ll be a long term operation.
With no real choice, I settle in for the duration.
Sis begins by saying, “You have been unable to get full time work down at the factory.”
I say, “I am painfully aware of the situation at the factory. I have tried, several times, to correct the matter and get full time work, or at least expand the amount of part time work. However, I have failed at each attempt. If I try to press the matter any harder, I may just find myself out of even the part time work that I must have if we're to survive financially.”
“I know about your situation. I also know that you're trying and trying hard. I'm also trying hard. You know that I work at the Fashion Boutique, downtown.”
“Yes, I know that you work at the Fashion Boutique, downtown.”
“Since I work at the Fashion Boutique, I deal with a lot of the upper class ladies in town.”
“If you could get one of the upper class ladies to whisper to her husband or father that I'm deserving of a full time job, that would be nice.”
“Actually, I'm working on that.”
“If you can see to it that I get a full time job, I can then earn enough that we can get off the edge of survival thing.”
“I'm quite aware of that. I think I may be able to see that you get a full time job. However, it'll take some effort from you if my plan is to succeed.”
“I work as hard and smart as I can at the part time jobs I now get. When I don’t have paid work, I scout the whole damn town for any sort of paid work. If you recall, I recently got some part time work installing some air conditioning units for Dad’s best friend. The reason that best friend gave me the work was that I can lift and install the heavy units by myself, where he would have had to hire two guys who have the magic year’s paid experience. Exactly what kind of effort from me are you talking about?”
“You remember Ava?”
“I assume that you're talking about the Ava who was the hottest babe in our high school graduating class: The Ava who was cheerleader, homecoming queen, girl most likely, that sort of thing; The Ava that every boy in school wanted to date as soon as he got the required flashy convertible and heavy spending cash. I think that I might vaguely remember Ava, yes.”
“Well, I have a date Friday night with Albert, her brother.”
“How nice for you. I'm pleased that you have attracted a guy so far up the social ladder. However, if you require new clothes, new shoes, new cosmetics, hair done, whatever, I can show you the balance in our check book and the bills coming due.”
“Well, I don’t need new clothes, shoes or cosmetics for the date. A hair appointment would be nice, but I know we can’t afford it. However, my date with Albert will be a double date. I need a date for Ava.”
“You need a date for Ava? Are you speaking of the Ava who just recently had boys lined up to ask her out? The Ava who was the trophy date for any boy in high school. Is that the same Ava who suddenly needs a date?”
”Well, it's a little complicated. You see, the people who run this town live a bit differently than the rest of us.”
“You mean that they always have the money to pay their bills?”
“Of course I'm aware of that. However, the situation I'm talking about is social and doesn’t involve money. Well, it could involve money for us.”
“Assuming that you haven't been smoking some contraband substance, I can see that a date for you with Albert and a date for me with Ava could put us in a political situation that might just lead to a full time job for me. However, a date for me with Ava has to have a catch. What’s the catch?”
“The catch is that we'll have to adapt to a somewhat different lifestyle.”
“Okay, I have always wanted the lifestyle of a rich playboy, as long as adapting to that lifestyle doesn’t cost us money we don’t have.”
“Okay, for starters, I need to know exactly how I looked back in high school. I want the brutal truth, with no bullshit.”
I think for a bit and then say, “Compared to the other girls in high school, you were in the top ten faces. You didn't outshine Ava, but you were, and are, a hot looking babe. As to your body, you were and are number one! I can remember guys watching you wiggle past and muttering, ‘I think I’m gonna come just watching her ass move.’ Guys who didn’t think I could hear.”
“What about you? Did you think you were gonna come, just watching my ass move?”
“You’re my sister. I may have thought I was gonna come, just watching Ava or Brenda’s ass move, but not my own sister’s ass.”
Sis says, “What if I weren't your sister?”
I say carefully, “If I had my dream date for the prom, it would have been Ava, who incidentally also has a hot body. If I had my dream date for the beach, and you weren’t my sister, you would have been my dream date for the beach, no question about it.”
Sis gets up and struts back and forth in front of me. She makes sure she has my attention and then says, “Then you would have been aroused by the sight of me in a teeny-bikini?”
“If you weren’t my sister, damn right!”
Sis then nails me, “You would have wanted to feel me up. Then you would have wanted to slip your horny fingers inside my bikini panties. Then, after you got me heated up, you would have wanted to stick your big thing inside my hot young pussy.”
“You have the general idea, but could we change the subject? With our current money shortage I’m basically living the life of a monk and I really don’t need to think about what I can’t have.”