Aunts Aren't Ladies!

By B.P. Kasik

It's time for "Aunts Aren't Ladies!" A young man has just graduated from his higher education classes and moved across the state to escape the clutches of his controlling, overbearing aunts! But then...they find him! And soon, his new friends are being menaced by his aunts who are obsessed with his career and love life! Will he be able to play cricket in peace? Will he be able to enjoy platonic relationships with the fairer sex without pressure to engage in courtship? FIND OUT in Aunts Aren't Ladies! Jolly good!

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.P. Kasik
• Release date: Mar 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370375318

B.P. Kasik

B.P. Kasik is the author of dozens of humor, horror, YA, mystery, fantasy, and/or science fiction books. Has a wife and kids. Is on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and a blog somewhere. Also known as “Phony McFakename.” Thinks about you every now and then. Hopes you’re doing well.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

I adore P.G. Wodehouse and British comedy in general. I wrote this book to create a classic British comic world in contemporary America.

Now I’m not nearly talented enough to imitate Wodehouse’s style, this is a mere recreation of the way it felt when I first discovered his literary British comedy world. Tipping my hat to it.

The world in this book is our reality as we know it. People just act like they're in genteel old Britain. I have no idea why they behave this way. So on that level—this is a fantasy.

If you read it aloud, read it with an exasperated, ridiculous fake British accent. If possible, stop me on the street and get me to read it aloud to you with my silly British accent. I promise you will not be undisappointed.

And don’t expect a plot. As Mark Twain said, If you try to find a plot in this book, I will shoot you. Or words to that effect.

Please enjoy this whimsical romp. But don’t enjoy it too much. Let’s not lose control here.

Chapter 1

Now what, you may ask, is the purpose of my hiding away in a small seaside township where no one knows my name in the furthest corner of the state?

Well, please permit me to explain.

I am in hiding from my aunts.

I have had more than enough of their interfering ways and troublesome intrusions into my personal life and I finally decided to put an end to it, once and for all!

Now one might reasonably say that I could have just communicated my lack of appreciation for their meddling by means of direct verbal communication.

Clearly, one who would say such a thing has never attempted direct verbal communication with my aunts.

Oh, horrors!

From my early childhood days, they have pressured and berated me in most monstrous ways. My Aunt Elder set me up on a blind date for an elementary school dance. And she invented the very notion of an elementary school dance for the sole purpose of setting me up on a blind date for it!

My Aunt Young signed me up for a managerial instructional course. In it, I was taught all the ins and outs of corporate life and leadership and business. All well and good. But for goodness’ sake—I was five years old!

The pressure to date and to achieve prestigious employment from my aunts has been well-nigh unbearable, going back as far as I can recall. Further, even.

But no more! For I am officially an established young man of prospects and great expectations. I completed the higher education courses that were expected of me and I inadvertently learned how to converse with the fairer sex fairly well thanks to my experiences with the dozens of women that I was aunt-manipulated into dating.

And now I shall find my own path in my own way.

Feeling independent and triumphant and out from under the unyielding and relentless thumbs of my aunts for the first time in memory, I sat back in my delightfully comforting chair in my second-floor efficiency apartment in my new town and breathed deeply.

Ah, the sweet taste of aunt-free air!

It was ever so delightful to feel free of their oppressive influence. They would never find me here. I knew my happiness would be everlasting as I finally lived on my own terms.

The mind boggled most delightfully at the endless possibilities for leisure, sport, and social activities!

And then there was a knock at my door.

Surely, it was my new neighbors in my apartment building, welcoming me to the area and wishing me well on my new pursuits in life.

I opened the door with a wistful, hopeful smile and…

Chapter 2

I was delighted to find that I was right!

It was a pair of feminine neighbors, come over to wish me well and welcome me to the building and to the area. They bore a plate of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies.

I could not help thinking that, what with both of my new fellow-dwellers being lovely young ladies, my aunts would inevitably attempt to force me into dating one or both of them, were they here and bearing witness to this interaction!

But I was free. I had nothing to fear from auntly intervention. I could simply accept this event on its own terms, follow what may! This was my new beginning, and a glorious beginning it was.

Welcome to the neighborhood! they said with a smile.

Thank you most kindly! I responded. It is most pleasant to be in a building where one is warmly welcomed by one’s new fellow residents!

Indubitably! said the kind lady on the left.

We are most pleased to make your acquaintance! said the kind lady on the right.

Please, enter and make yourselves most comfortable! My apartment is small in stature, but I have a couch on which you may sit and a latrine, should you care to make your toilet!

They were charmed. Both kind ladies accepted my invitation—to the couch, not to the latrine—and we sat and prepared for a pleasant visit.

I poured them each a cup-and-saucer of soothing tea and they accepted with coy thanks.

I sat in my amply cushioned chair across from the kind ladies and sipped my tea.

The air was full of the promise of budding new friendships and good tidings to come.

We prepared to converse and learn more about each other.

When all of a sudden…

Chapter 3

We were not interrupted!

I could not help being slightly on edge, nipped at by a bit of a case of the nagging nerves. I kept expecting my sinister aunts to storm in and interrupt my reveries, as they always had. Forever snatching me from the jaws of happiness and personal fulfilment to succumb to their dour wishes and demands!

Surely, you are saying to me, Surely, you jest!

Surely, you are wrong in your presumption of jesting on my part. (And might I add that it is rather cheeky of you to say surely to me—we have only just met!)

If you doubt a single word I speak or type on this matter, then you know not my aunts. For nearly two dozen years, my every attempt at leisure and independence had been thwarted by my mother’s sister and my father’s sister.

It all began when my parents went on their first date. Their sisters became warm friends right off the cricket bat. The two of them grew close together in a shared bond over their relentless nagging of my parents to elevate their budding relationship to a marital arrangement, and—the nuptials completed and their nefarious mission successful—they immediately moved on to the task of pressuring my parents on a daily basis to produce offspring to continue the family line.

Once I came into the world, their monstrous gaze descended upon me, determined in unison to make my every day a nightmare of preparation for prestigious employment and/or a permanent relationship.

As a very shy young lad, my Aunt Elder forced me into cotillion dancing classes, in addition to public speaking courses to increase my confidence in speaking to the fairer sex. As I grew into my teenage years, Aunt Elder escalated her attack on my attempts at leisure and lollygagging by taking me to seminars on manners and proper dating customs. I believe they were called speed dating events. She called and texted and emailed me multiple times per day each day I was away at college, forever inquiring into my relationship status and making suggestions for eligible young women who were in my vicinity. (Hot Young Singles Are In Your Area, read the subject heading of nearly every email she sent me.) Our relationship was strained when she created a Tinder account in my name and swiped right on each and every member of the fairer sex in my college town. Many an awkward situation was created there, with many a narrow escape by your humble narrator from the clutches of dating doom and gloom.

Aunt Young, on the other hand, kept me occupied every moment with frivolous and attention-span-straining private tutor sessions on business and economics to supplement my third-grade lessons on multiplication and division. She demanded I apply for employment with every major corporation as a high school student as an exercise in preparing job applications. Aunt Young pulled some strings with her shady business connections to make several of these corporations bring me in for practice interviews. I did so well, I was offered employment at Goldman Sachs. I politely declined employment there, as I preferred to finish tenth grade first. She forced me to major in economics in college when I declined to matriculate in the commerce or engineering school or pre-law or pre-med classes. She said if I must take humanities classes, they must need still have a financial focus. She called and texted and emailed me daily to inquire on the progress of my academic studies. Believing this outrage to be over once I completed my studies and secured my undergraduate degree, I was filled with shock and terror when I received a terse text from her on my graduation day: So when do you begin your graduate studies?

Graduate studies!?

On that very day, I made the bold decision to free myself from their withering auntly glare once and for all.

Chapter 4

I disposed of my phone, secured lodging in a remote city across the state, and spoke not a word of my plans to my family or school pals.

I acquired a new vehicle—purchased from a private seller with cash—and left my few meager worldly possessions at my college dorm, taking only a handful of my favorite books, some grocery items, and enough clothing to last me until I could purchase new garments.

This new apartment that awaited me was furnished with a bed, dresser, couch, and sitting chair. Humble? Perhaps. But I wanted for nothing.

No cup of tea tasted warmer or sweeter to my soul than the cup I sipped in the pleasant company of these two kind young ladies. I inhaled the warm aroma of herbal essences and sampled one of the cookies they provided, dipping it into the cup and bringing it to my lips. I savored the taste of soft cookie dough heated to crisp firmness via a convection oven.

Cause for celebration! My first cookie as a liberated young man, free to make his own choices!

The cookie was a shade on the salty side, a trend I notice in many restaurants and recipes in this modern age. Perhaps mankind’s senses are becoming dull by virtue of excessive spices in their foods, or humanity’s demands for flavor have grown unreasonable, but salt seems to be the savor du jour. I do not wish to belabor the subject, but I must say it is a topic that occupies my thoughts with increasing regularity.

I did not mention my mild cookie-flavoring criticism to the kind ladies, though. This cookie is the bee’s knees, and sweeter than their honey!

They smiled in appreciation of my appreciation.

Ah, this was a lovely day! May it never end!

I had a crisp and clear moment where I believed nothing could ever go wrong.

(Stay tuned, though—the next chapter may yet contradict me!)

Chapter 5

The kindly young ladies observed the sparse furnishings and meager possessions of my new dwelling.

So clean in here! observed the lady on the left.

Indeed, your living space diligently observes the tenets of minimalism! said the lady on the right.

You are too kind, I remarked. The sparse appearance of the walls and floor and ceiling that surround us are not necessarily by design. I am new to the area and have yet to insulate myself in new belongings.

They nodded. Well, the fact remains that the simplicity of your nest is welcoming and warm, observed the lady on the left.

I am well-nigh inspired. Your un-self-conscious design strategy—albeit inadvertent—inspires me to perhaps shed myself of some physical belongings, so that I might better focus on life and the matters of greatest importance, said the woman on the right.

I bowed my head. You do honor me too greatly.

We were basking in the joy of a simple, pleasant conversation. We were sure to be good friends, and it was good to know strangers were so quick to make one feel at ease in this new abode.

Lady on my left, by what title may I refer to you?

I am Jane.

"And lady on my right, by what title may I refer