“That ain’t true!”, I yelled from across the room.
“Isn’t”
“That isn’t true!”, I corrected myself.
My nanna moved in with us last year, ever since Opa died. He had waited on her hand in foot, on accoun’a she never did anything. She’s what some folks’a call a “trophy wife”. My Opa was a rich man, since he struck some black gold a ways back. After that, neither of them had to work a single day in their lives. She still don’t do anything, except when she corrects my grammar. The difference now, instead of one person waitin’ on her, she’s got eight of us. That’s me, my brothers Markus, Andrew, Simon, my sisters Riley, Litte, and my mama and pa.
“It’s true too! You know nothin’ Anna Mae Autumn Summers!”,Kerrel shrieked imprudently. Kerrel was the most malevolent creature that ever existed. He was short, has a terrible, overbearingly squeaky voice. He was extremely contemptuous, rude, sloppy, and has a predilection to squeal on me whenever I dun something naughty. Why he is at my house? Well, somehow my brother Andrew managed to befriend that demon.
I decided to be the mature one, being two years older than he. I decided to ignore his enactment. I placidly walked outside and started swinging on our porch swing. That’s when I saw Riley and Litte divert in the driveway in their flivver. Those two are twins, and are practically inseparable. They both drive, and sometimes argue over who gets shotgun, but other than that, they do the golden rule justice. To my surprise, they brought Jackson and Gillman along.

The thing ya need to know about Jackson: He’s handsome, amiable, and quite cordial. Him and Riley have been dating for two years, seven months, and three days. But, for the record, I ain’t keepin’ track. If Riley ever neglects to remind me on a weekly basis of how long they’va been datin’, she’ll catch me up the next day.
Gillman, on the other hand, gets my wholehearted disapprobation. I dislike that bum so badly that I refuse to call him by his first name. He’s conceited, lacks diction, is asinine, he irks me every time he brags about his prize-winning heifer, and in my opinion, has a diminutive brain that lacks a formal education.
Anyway, I was sittin’ upon the swing when they pulled in, walked to the porch, glanced at me, Jackson said hi, and strutted inside. Thinkin’ to myself, I realized that I hadn’t seen Pigeon in a couple days. Pigeon was a harmless one-eyed squirrel that learned to trust me. Why, I even hand-fed him nuts a coupla’ times. I was a’ponderin’ these thoughts when an awful idea popped into my brain: what if Pigeon got in some peril that he could not evade? Or worse! Dexter Keens probably got ahol’ of him! At that thought, I made a foray across the street to the Keens’ place. It was filthy, run-down, and had a great stench about it. I illicitly walked across their lawn, which was consisting of crab grass and dandelions, and knocked hard on their door. Mrs. Dora Keens opened the door. She’s short, erratically stumpy, and acts like she’s native to an insane asylum, which may explain why her son turned out the way he did.
“Howdy, Mrs. Keens”, I said, trying my hardest to sound initiated.
“What do you want? I ain’t wantin’ no little girl walkin’ hither and thither on my lawn! You’s a gonn’ trample my good grass!”, she said in her raspy smoker’s voice.
“Is Dexter home? I’m needin’ to speak to him.”
“He ain’t anywhere I know of! I don’ watch my chillun all the day long, now do I? I ain’t got that kin’a time!”

Then to my relief, well as much relief as a girl can get when she sees him, Dexter arbitrated his mother’s outburst and asked,”What do you want, Anna Mae?”
“What in tarnation did you do to Pigeon!”, I said in a magisterial voice.
“That blind squirrel? Why, it was stupid enough to go in my squirrel trap”, he said, then he started snorting in laughter. In complete disgust at his malignance, I yelled,”YOU SET UP A SQUIRREL TRAP AND IT KILLED PIGEON???!!”
“Of course not! The trap I set up only paralyzed him. I let him suffer for a little, then I got my 22 and shot it’s brains out”, with that, he laughed the creepiest, most maniacal laugh I ever did hear, then slammed the door in my face. Then he opened his side window and yelled,” and my mom wants you offa’ our grass!”. He laughed yet again, then shut the window closed so hard, it practically shook the ground under my feet.

Oh my…I thought. That’s about all my brain was sayin’. Oh my…oh my… I stood there, solitarily on the sidewalk, facing my house. Feelings of impotency rushed through my veins, leaving my head feeling too heavy to support the rest of my body, and my legs all tingly. He’s…dead…
“ANNA MAE!!!”, Simon yelled from our porch.
“What!”, I yelled back.
“Dinner’s re-eady!”, he squeaked back. At the sound of his squeakin’ voice, I started crackin’ up. I thought it was so funny when boy’s voices changed. I don’t got a clue why they change, but it sure helps assuage my bad moods.

I walked into my house, practically tripped over Knut, my old black lab, and into the dining room. We ain’t the richest folks around, so we pretty much use anything we can fit our bee-hinds on as chairs. My pa and mama’s sittin’ on regla chairs, Simon on a crate, Riley on a stool, Andrew on a paint bucket, Markus on his knees, Kerrel, Jackson ,and Gillman on regla chairs (on accoun’a they guests), Litte on Gillman’s lap, and Nanna was in my pa’s office chair, seein’ it had the most cushions on it. That left the floor for me. In my house, if ya snooze, ya lose, unless you’re at the top of the food chain and have most dictum. But I guess I got used to it, cause I dint argue back. No, instead I sat in the empty spot and grabbed me a cob uh’ corn and started mucnhin’ away. It was purdy good, except I could’a used some butter. But my brother’s got to it before I even walked inside the house.

After dinner, my night was purdy eventless. I took my weekly bath, got in my pj’s, watched people walk around my neighborhood, read, then went to bed. I wonder what tomorr’ll bring.