Mr. Bunion's Evil Plan: Part One

True to title, Mr. Bunions came up with an evil plan last night. A plan of such nefariously devious cunning, it needs descriptors like 'sinister' and 'diabolical' and 'fiendish' and 'debauched.'

Oh, yes. Perhaps you'd like to take the opportunity to relieve yourself before Mr. Bunions makes you shit your pants. 

Moving on.

My father - and grandfather - are both horrifying in their own ways, but at the same time, twins. Nature played Russian Roulette with the gene pool and lost. My father once left a beer bottle full of dip juice in my bed. What exactly was he DOING in my bed? I don't know, but changing the sheets gave me a rash. My grandfather, without fail, will wear speedos to public pools. I nearly became a lesbian because of this. Even Mr. Bunions draws the line at flashing the goods to little kids. But that's not all - he completes the image with a comb-over that would put Donald Trump to shame. Classy sonuvabitch. 

This is standard behavior for them. But more so, they're both military men. For those of you thinking, "Oh, well, isn't that precious...?"

...No. It isn't. Especially when they try to pull rank during family discussions. 

Me: "Hey, Dad, pass me the cornbread, please."

Commander Buttwipe: "I AM THE DECIDER!"

Me: "...Do you... Want to decide to pass me the cornbread?"

Commander Buttwipe: "I'M FIRST IN THE FAMILY, THEN YOUR MOTHER, THEN YOU, THEN YOUR SISTER. END OF DISCUSSION."

Me: "Uh...'Kay... Cornbread? Yes? Feed Lt. Bunions?"

Commander Buttwipe: "APPROVED, SOLDIER."

Me: "I'm sixteen. I'm not a soldier. You're not my commander."

Commander Buttwipe: "ARE YOU BACKTALKING ME?"

Me: "Yes."

Commander Buttwipe: "I AM THE DECIDER! CIRCULAR LOGIC PERMITS NO QUESTIONING."

Me: "Fine. Give me the goddamn cornbread."

Commander Buttwipe: "GOOD QUALITY TIME."

Me: "I hate you."

That's a fairly bland example of our conversations. But I digress.

On top of this, my Father and Grandfather had proudly traced their lineage to the pilgrims who migrated aboard the Mayflower. My ancestors were rapists. They were both inexplicably pleased with this knowledge. What a jolly lot of patriotic cocksuckers my family is. 

Obviously, they were in need of some punishment. 

And one late night, lying in bed, Mr. Bunions whispering wisdom and sweet nothings into my little ear, we concocted an evil plan...

TO BE CONTINUED.