Lost in Amish Country

My sister Tina wanted to be taken to see her favorite hijacking and
future bank robbing brother
who was doing his "killing time" at the reservation called Lewisburg
Federal Penitentiary, with
such luminaries as the union boss who would one day disappear under a
football somewhere in New Jersey
and a future godfather of the five families in New York City born just
four blocks away from where our brother Leny On N was learning to take
other people's money, but since no one wanted to take her - afraid she
was going to have one of her epileptic
attacks due to her car accident of fifteen years before when running a
stop sign in Miami on her way to see her childhood lover who had become
a champion five years after they split and then get sent to prison for
having sex with a sixteen year old girl who resembled a fifteen year
old Tina who looked like a woman in her twenties and was considerd the
biggest knockout in The Bronx - the burden of driving
her fell on me: the baby of the family, my wife and our two small
children
whom I instructed to watch her closely and see if their aunt's eye
began to twitch to
shout out that fact immediately so I could pull over ready to
stick
something in her mouth to prevent her from eating her tongue though
boneless could break bones with her hateful jealous ability to spew
forth nasty words on anyone.
"Gimmie you bitch!" Tina said
"Did you say Happy Easter?" Leny asked as a large portion of
eggplant
rolled about inside his mouth.
"No, she's saying she wants one of the sandwiches me and Papa
smuggled
in," I said.
"She's got her lunch!"
"Ah wanch youbs!"
"She's going to get us caught," Tom. our brother the lithium
popping
psychoanalyst, whispered loudly.
"Please Tina - I don't want to get arrested!" Rhoda, Tom's fourth
wife,
shouted; making other begin to stare at us.
I noticed our mother strangling her napkin as our father was trying
to
hit himself in the head with his closed fists but our five year old son
was
holding both his arms down mightily.
"Ersatz?" Tina said holding her nose with fingers from her
partially
paralyzed right hand as we were also having a hard time identifying the
food
staring up at us.
Needless to say, all this set the wrong tone making it become a
very
short visit when Leny did his get rid of us lie by saying he had an
early
appointment with his social worker, a guy named Sigmund Freud, and the
end
of the visit accelerated even more when our father began hitting
himself in
the head as he told flinching people how we had traveled three hundred
miles
just for a lunch; a lunch we couldn't even identify!
The trip home was made extra long as Tina attempted directions to get
us
out of Amish country and finally one friendly guy with a long beard
told us
how to get onto Route Eighty which did head us back toward home -
eight
hours away. END