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Sunday, August 17, 2014

What does go on at the Poinker's? A Chilling Guest Post!

Last month, my adored sister-in-law, Maz from the notoriously controversial blog, The Conscience Vote stayed here at the 'Poinker Ponderover' for a week of luxurious indulgence (so I imagined).

I asked her if she'd lower herself enough to write a guest post for Pinky Poinker but warned her I'd only publish it if it was about me. Naturellment.
I needed her to proclaim to the world what a truly loving, warm matriarch I indeed am (as in the picture above).

To my surprise, I finally received her questionable writings in my inbox and with some reservations present her guest post to you now, below, just under this!

I've titled it myself...

'The Otherlings' by Crazy Jane.

It was more than a month ago, so why am I only writing about it now? It's taken me this long to recover from the horror of it all. Even as I write, my hands are shaking as the terrible memories well up. But the truth must come out, gentle reader. 

The world must be told what life is really like at Chez Poinker. I've led a sheltered life here in Melbourne. Since I was young, I came to understand that our weather was an ever-changing marvel, four seasons in one year - and sometimes, in one day! Deciding what to wear each morning meant I had the pick of my wardrobe. Imagine my shock, then, to be suddenly thrust into a world where the weather was exactly the same, day after day! Yes, it sounds unbelievable, but that's what happened. On the first afternoon, I waited for the warm, sunny climate to change abruptly to cold and rain ... and waited ... and waited. Three hours later, it was still warm and sunny - and it remained that way until the evening! What fresh hell was this? What terrible effects would living in such conditions have on defenceless humans? That's when I realised something was very wrong. 

Sitting with Pinky and Scotto in the evening, I noticed that, while I was still clad in short sleeves, they were rugged up as though they were about to brave a Melbourne morning dash to retrieve the bins! Huddling on the couch, they complained about the cold, and solicitiously offered me an extra blanket or three to ward off the 'chill'. I could only stare at them in utter disbelief. Were they having me on? Or - wait - could it be that this Ugg-boot-wearing, shivering pair were not all they seemed

 I was determined not to let them see that I was rattled. Instead, I resolved to keep a close watch on them. And so, my long vigil began. The weather continued to wear at my sanity. Warm and sunny every day, slightly cool at night. I longed for the unpredictability of home - but then I noticed something else suspicious about the inhabitants of the house. For instance, there was Hagar (twenty-one year old son of Pinky), the human revolving door. He was in and out of the place more often than a cat. Somehow - possibly as a result of living in this strange climate - he had acquired the ability to never spend more than a few moments anywhere in the house except his 'bedroom'. Ha. Bedroom, indeed. Although I was unable to explore it more closely, I suspect it's really some kind of weird science recharging chamber, almost certainly built by Scotto for his experiments on the hapless Hagar. (I've long thought my brother is an evil genius. Who else would build his own video games and collect Back to the Future memorabilia?) 

Innocent brother or mad scientist? You be the judge. Hagar's strangeness paled into insignificance when compared to the ... others living under the same roof. These creatures were truly horrific, clearly the result of experiments both unethical and sacrilegious. (Scotto, again? I think so.) There was Pablo, the chihuahua with the ability to cause a sonic boom when he barked. And there was Celine - no words can explain the dreadful changes wrought upon her, so I will let this picture speak for itself. 

                The camera lens burned out seconds after this picture was taken. 

 Now I must tell you the crowning horror - and here, gentle reader, know that I am taking my life in my hands to write this. But you must know! The world must be told! 

 In the midst of this weirdness ... presiding over laser-eyed dogs and evil-genius husbands ... was Pinky Poinker, Queen of the Damned! Each night she would ascend her throne and her subjects would pay homage to her. Celine would bring her rubber balls, Pablo would dare to offer her his slobber, and Scotto would bring her the 'wine' she needed to maintain her deceptively harmless, youthful appearance. The illusion was nearly flawless - until one morning, when I happened to wake just as she was leaving for her morning walk (no one knows just where she goes, but she always comes back glowing with health), and ... oh dear God, the horror, the horror! Now I know the truth, and I can only be thankful that I escaped with my life and soul intact. Except ... sometimes, at night, I see the gleam of laser doggy eyes ... and I hear Pinky asking innocently, 'More ... wine, Maz?' 

 Is it just me, or is it cold in here?

(Blog owner note: I suspect my sister-in-law thinks I'm a vampire. My children... it warms my heart to see you plotting against me.)

Got any weird in-laws?