She Only Murders on the Weekend


This weekend I went to my nephew’s birthday party.  He turned nine.

If you want to have fun at a party, I highly recommend going to one for a nine year old.  Although, it’s probably best if you don’t show up at one of these parties uninvited.  That might be inappropriate.

At my nephew’s party, there were four kids present.  Two nine year olds, a six year old, and an eleven year old.  Our dinner conversation was both stimulating and confusing.  The kids decided to tell scary stories.  I tried very hard to concentrate, but there were entire plot lines that bordered on nonsensical.  My favorite story went like this:

There was a boy, and he um, was upstairs sleeping.  His friends told him about a booger monster, but he didn’t believe them, and he was um, um, upstairs, but he wasn’t really sleeping, he was just laying in bed, and then his parents went out for a party.  He heard the door open and thought that his parents were home, so he yelled, “Mom?  Dad?” but they didn’t answer and then he um, the stairs were creaky, um, then the door closed, and he heard someone coming down the hall, and then, and his parents weren’t really home yet, but there was someone coming, and he thought, oh, it must be my parents, and then, um, a booger monster yelled up the stairs, “Billy, I’m a booger monster, and I’m on your first step.”

Um, then billy knew it wasn’t his parents.  Then the monster went to the second step.  He yelled, “Billy, I’m a booger monster, and I’m on your second step.”  And Billy had twenty five steps, so this took a long time, and the monster kept coming, and then it reached the door, and came into Billy’s room, and um, Billy was under the covers, and then it came up to the bed, and then Billy threw off his covers.  And then…and then..Oh no!  I forget the end of the story!

I could barely contain myself.  Most adults can’t tell a story that keeps me on the edge of my seat like this one did.

After dinner we made ice cream sundays.  I was sitting nearest to the cake cutting knife, so I kept a hand on it.  I didn’t want one of the kids to get a wild hair and try to grab it to cut their own cake.  My nephew’s nine year old girlfriend screamed when she saw me gripping the knife.  “Ah!  Jenny is going to kill us!  She has a weapon!”

I stared back into her little round eyes and whispered, “The last kid who tattled on me was never seen again.”   At this, my nephew started cracking up.  He assured his friend that Aunt Jenny wouldn’t hurt anyone.  The little girl realized it was a game, so became bolder, “You’re a murderer aren’t you??”

Nathan leaned in, “Don’t worry, she only murders on the weekends.”

The girl relaxed, then her eyes shot to mine as she screeched, “It’s Saturday!!!”

Kids are fun.


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