Devil In A White Dress

Sixty

Just when you thought the class of adults acting like whimpering kids at the kiddie table would never seize, the senseless shrieks of terror reigned from approximately 4:34 to 6:00 in the evening. Mr. Summers expressed all his hate towards his sister and to be frank, it was scary.

This time. Only this time, the childhood feud resulted in something that never happened before. Kitty lost her full temper and hurled a glass of whiskey at Mr. Summers. His get-together shirt discolored by the stain of alcohol and bits of broken glass found inside some of his brunette hair and ear.

Mr. Summers reacted in a way that completely caught his wife off-guard. The two siblings had laid hands on each other with extreme physicality. Sam and Mrs. Summers did whatever they could to separate these two forces of mass destruction. Thank goodness the teens left on time; they would have been utterly disturbed by the violent confrontation between the two hard-headed freaks.

As time passed, Mrs. Summers and Sam left these two detained in different rooms as though fighting was the biggest crime of the century. They wanted to make up. Deep down, somewhere beneath the blackness of their souls, Mr. Summers loved his dear sister Kitty. But why deny love right in front of their sons and daughters?

What caused these siblings to verbally and physically abuse each other? They both wore glasses. Bore a great resemblance to Mr. Tarantino, had perfect jobs, married a spouse with a disorder and had demented oddball teenage children. Perhaps, they were just meant to be this way but Mrs. Summers nor Sam couldn't handle this reality.

The two shared their history of suffering from their own albatrosses while seated on the Loveseat. What Sam and her were expecting to happen sooner was to laugh it all up along with Larry and Kitty, then invite their old, rock climbing adult friends Oscar and Margery for a game night.

As if those were just mere pervy fantasies, who knew Mr. Summers hadn't thought the exact way. He made it mandatory that all four of them convince the aged couple to come to the late-night party.

Brianna had some bad ideas running in her head that fateful evening. She believed her fate had been the GPS that was lying in the hands of her uncle Sam the entire day. By the time the four got into full conversation mode and began howling with laughter and doing whatever boring grown-ups did, Brianna paid her full accurate attention on Sam's movements.

She'd watched the movie Pickpocket a hundred times so she knew what the not-to-dos and to-dos at this particular task. But this was the stupidest thing she had ever thought of. When she ventured into the RV to search for this alarm system, she remained awestruck. She was never going to get out of this nightmare, because as a matter of fact, she didn't know how to pilot a freaking Jay Flight RV. Neither did she know the directions back to the depressing home in upstate NY.

Realizing her only chances of getting out of Lake George, she contacted Keith again. No reception. Pushed the buttons on her touchscreen cell phone to contact Wendall, Greta and Gertrude. No reception.

They're all having fun. Without me, Brianna muttered sobbingly.

No, Brianna. The fact is..they were dead.

Frustration forced her to take another drastic measure no matter how idiotic it seemed. Running away and running like Hell just broke loose.

The dream of Keith arriving at Lake George with the van was something Brianna wished had come true at this very dark moment. Her hope was that her friends and the van would magically descend from the heavens and land next to her.

Spending a whole week with the Summers and listening to them slur and rant was everybody's hell according to Brianna's mythology.

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