Remembering Mama

My name is Wednesday. The kids in school always made fun of me and compared me to
that twisted little girl in the Adams Family but i think I look more like Carrie in that Stephen King movie with the bucket of pigs' blood dumped upon her at the prom. Those kids are sorry they ever laid their unholy whoring eyes upon Wednesday Jones.

I am not evil. I am pure and good to the core. I don't have a blemish or scar upon me. There is no mark of Cain upon me. I do have a pearl necklace. They are genuine and came from somewhere off the Sea of Japan. Mama always hated when I wore them with my long black knit dress and my actor's grease pot salve. Mama's dead now. Ain't that right, Mama? You are as dead and your head as pickled in the jar as the other two back there behind me. Mama, you always told me I would amount to something-- even though I refused to put up the black dress in favor of some sort of frilly Chantilly go-go doll skirt and blouse.

See how nicely the candlelight glistens off your face Mama. You always told me it ain't right to recycle the canning jars by mixing salt after dairy or pork. But see Mama, you wasn't right about that at all. You was wrong. Mama, I'm sorry. I just don't like all those fancy colors. It must be a sin to wear all that gaudy stuff and cheap artificial finery and showing off what I got to those dammed reforms next door. At least we were congregationalists Mamma. Still, I think we shoulda kept Kosher better and learnt more Hebrew and stuff. I would have gladly killed off all them Israelites, Mama, who went a'whoring after false gods in the desert while waiting for G-d's socket puppets Moses and Aaron to come down off of that mountain with the fifteen commandments. Oh Mama, I know there had to be a third tablet about not wearing gaudy colors or showing off our booties but that damn fool Moses was drunk off of G- d's glory and he broke it. Aaron picked up the pieces and threw them in a midden pile and said, "Now, you shut up Moses. No one will ever know."

At least your head has company up there on that shelf, Mama. It wouldn't be right for no one to see how I curled your hair in steam rollers now would it? You weren't Hasidic dammit Mama so I figured it would be alright with you if I stuck a couple of other heads up there in the canning jars on the shelf next to you. They are two of my classmates Mama. I bet you remember them. You always was comparing me to them Mama. Not that I minded but they really were a couple of little tarts.

On your left side is Golda-- never a sicker bitch there was than her, Mama. She was always carrying on about who she had kissed and more out back behind the schoolyard in the woods. She got herself preggers and had an abortion and came to school one day all bloody and bragging she did. She had nice long hair but I left it plain and frizzled. I didn't fuss over her hair at all. She had no shame in life Mama. She won't in death either.

And on your right side is Madonna. She was a fool, Mama. She got to carrying on about how she was a high class whore and how her men (that is what she called them) would pay for a high-class hotel or take her away to the mountains with them for a weekend. I never believed her Mama. It was irksome all the same. Cuz of that, I cut all of her hair off of her head and put her head in the jar upside-down.

See Mama. Three bitches in three canning jars and me sitting here with one candle burning and I got on my long black dress and a string of real pearls. Now what could be more proper than that?

sapphoq