The Wordy, Will from My Dead Aunt

"E-excuse me?" I gasped. The elder gentle man, with hair slick back, his mustache more like an animal tail split into two trimmed to precision. He cleared his throat once more. "M' lady Aliter Ally has requested that you, are to have the inheritance for the company if you were to 'Let the cats out of the bag' then you would be able to know the exact location to where the vault is to the certificate.” He read the will exactly, his eyes peering over the document shifting side to side. I will leave you to discuss this amongst your other relatives.” He huffed, leaving to join with the other servants. As soon as the gentlemen closed the door the room let into a ruckus with all nine members speaking at once.

“Well, I always knew cousin Ally always let on a little more than what you thought.” Iris sneered. Her voice had always been so nasally that its wonder she has yet to consider a nose job. Big Ben as we call him started in his gruff voice. “Oi! Can it Iris! We all know you are sleeping with Johann fiancé!” And here we go. Maybe this was the plan, there is no inheritance it is just to make everyone suffer. Shrieks, gasps, and cries of outrage were what followed. “Benny boy, I am not sure that is a line you want to cross!” Johann fiancé replied, eyes glinting with a devious smirk. “Mark you are sleeping with my COUSIN?!” Johann finally piped up. Mother Grief as we fondly call her, the oldest living Locution family, cried in her ear-piercing voice. “Shut your traps, your pathetic soap opera addicts!” She finishes as a glob of spit launched of her lips.

She was not exactly incorrect. If anything, every part of her sentence was correct. I dusted off my pants and made my way out of the room while they kept harping on another. Auntie Ally was… strange. I remember her office had two beautiful taxidermized birds, which were crushed by a stone. Perhaps a reminder to work. Other than I, she might have been considered more of the estranged side. Auntie Meda Phoor was also quite hard to understand, her mannerisms were another strange quirk, but however strange they were thought to be, they were kind at heart. While the rest of the family had stuck with the Soda Pressing company, that was becoming more of a rat’s nest than a business. Instead of pursuing arts and the stranger jobs, they had stuck with the more assured job. I was lucky enough to leave at a young age with my parents to anywhere but here. Oddly enough I was still included in the will even if they only met once.

I ventured up the winding steps, as they rotated after a constant winding as ordered by the servants. Auntie Ally had come to seen me for my 13^th birthday. She attended with a long scarf, and an absurdly large cart. She looked dazed, I thought train lagged, but the worry lines at her forehead had suggested why. She had given me a dead cat, well a taxidermized cat. I hadn’t shown my parents for I was too disturbed to even pick the thing up. I remember how she emphasized the gesture was not that of what I thought, but the sentiments of a cat. I still have yet to truly understand what she meant. The wounded steps reached the top of the platform and I explored the library.

Odd enough to have a library, but the book corners were missing, even some remained untouched looking angrily thrown on the ground. A thump greeted my entrance. “’Mrs. Mathilda?” I call out hoping it is just the help and not the spirit of an angry Aunt. “Over here!” She sung. I followed her voice to the far corner of the library. She had books in her hand and a large knife as she lopped of a corner of the book. “Uhh” I say so eloquently. She smiles and she looks like a dumpling. “Madam Aliter Ally had been told that if she read a book that was written poorly that it was cutting corners, so accordingly she told us any book marked to cut the corners, as the corners were already falling off.” She explained punctuating the last of her sentences with the sharp blade coming down on the book. Cutting corners…. I let myself to purse my lips then say, “That’s an expression.” Mathilda cocked her head. “An expression of what? Of her orders? Yes.” She answered quizzically. I was taken aback. “No, it is like saying a piece of cake, meaning it was easy.” I answer hoping this was just a joke. “Well, that doesn’t make any sense at all.” She replied piquantly and… well that is true. Cake if not practiced is not easy, nor does it have anything to relate with ease… “Mathilda, I… what is a sentiment of a cat?” I ask. She cocks her head, grins, and then shoos me off.

I go back to exploring the house. I head another vase break and the door slam. Mother Grief was not joking about the soap opera remark. It is almost silly that the sullenest side of the family is the wildest, while the considered wild side is more tamed and even strange, having a better life than the other side. Perhaps that is why she chose us particularly? To see how doing a job that leaves you lacking creativity and entertainment, that soap operas and family drama is the best they could do. I stumble across a marble bust of her. She was winking and having a grin, the artist had carved her hands on her chest. She was only holding up nine fingers. Nine. Nine members and only nine fingers. Of course, she would plan something as such. The sentiments of a cat would be… nine lives? Oh, good lord. Of course, she would do this to her nephew. If I just chose to work with the family business I would not have been corralled with these lunatics. But of course, I had to be different.

“Ah if it isn’t the child of the Far-land.” Mark replied as if he had any say in this family. I counted the family inside. Mother Grief, Big Ben, Iris, Johann, Edith, Elise, Marley, Kenneth, and Mark apparently. “I know how to find the inheritance.” I said and immediately regretted it, “How so!” “Tell us brat!” “SHOW ME SHOW ME!” Greedy pigs. I held up my hand as to silence them. “Follow me.” I lead to the front of the entrance. “I need you to hit this bucket on your way out.” I said as politely as possible. “You cannot just kick us out!” Believe me I know. “I am not, but as part of something Auntie Ally would like I believe that you should kick that bucket, all the way to the foot of the hill” I said. Surprisingly, the dastard woman Mother Grief complied, of course with her normal mount of bemoaning or even more. The rest of the clan followed and for once the house was empty.

I sat down. Although like children they need recess, like the adults they are they will come back in a sourer mood than before. I close my eyes and imagine what Auntie Ally must have lived like in this house b herself and the help. They were all strange, but she could say that to the rest of the family as well. Really, we are stranger than her if we were to be compared. I don’t even know why I am not kicking that bucket either right now. Perhaps… perhaps a small part of me wants to give her some sort of legacy that she foolishly left to her family. Maybe I do not want to kick the bucket and join the family with there downward spiral of back pains and mind-numbing work. Maybe they had to kick the bucket, because they already had done so when they joined the job. I wonder if Mother Grief was ever happy. Why Iris was sleeping with Mark, why Big Ben was called Big Ben? As I slowly lose the social crutch that I put on to deal with them I heard a small… squeak?

I once more get up and follow the small mewing sounds. Perhaps it is the help. Perhaps not. The mewing grew more and more as I worked myself farther to the back of the house. I looked at the covered couches and tables with a white cloth. This most likely would have been her more private rooms. The sheet covering a table is hiding the sound. I grab what looks to be a fire iron ready in hand. I lift up the sheet and see a large burlap sack the sound is louder. I open the sack and dump the contents on the floor. Cats of all breeds and sizes are let out of the bag, and a certificate. So she wasn’t being coy. There were cats in a bag that had to be let out to find it. And I never would have found it if I didn’t have my family kick the bucket down to the hill to get peace to hear the meowing. I flip over the certificate and it is a simple congratulations with her signature. The only thing said in the center of the paper is the words “Back to the Drawing Board” and maybe this time Auntie Aliter Ally was jesting this time, or literally there is a drawing board with the instructions on how to find the actual deeds to the company.

The things I do for family, and good lord is it worth it.