Being a Gallgher isn't easy, especially not for Ian's twin Alyssa Gallagher who lives on the southside with her many sibling and alcoholic father who drops in and out whenever he pleases.
Then there's the emotionless asshole who Alyssa just can't s...
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My siblings, Frank, Jimmy and I stood on a street corner with our cousin Patrick and his many kids as he held a box of 'Aunt Ginger's' ashes. He stood in the middle of us all, clearing his throat.
"Thank you all for coming in honour of Aunt Ginger," Patrick started, "You know, when the guy at the funeral place handed me her ashes, I thought, the hell do I do with these? Then I thought, no, I know where she was happiest."
Cousin Patrick nodded to himself and looked at the ground, "One this corner, her corner," he stated, "Where she turned tricks in her 20s and 30s."
"And 60s!" Frank piped up, earning a dirty look from Patrick. "She did magic tricks?" Carl asked, innocently but Frank shook his head. "No, son, turning tricks is a euphemism for prostitution," Frank told him.
Carl frowned and looked up at Frank, "In her day, your great aunt was a legendary pole smoker," Frank smiled, "Could unlock her jaw like a Burmese python."
"We are at her funeral," Jimmy scoffed with folded arms. "You know, some think Gallaghers don't have a work ethic," Frank sighed, "But Ginger worked this corner rain, sleet, snow, her old knees hitting that hard pavement again and again."
I rolled my eyes at Frank's words, as did Ian beside me. "Look, you all knew Ginger so I ain't gonna sugar-coat it," Cousin Patrick announced, drawing everyone's attention back.
"She was a mean old bitch," he stated, "But even a mean old bitch deserves a send-off!" Patrick took a step forward. "Hear-hear," Frank grumbled. "So, this is us, Ginger, sending you off..."
Cousin Patrick turned the box upside down and the ashes spilt out onto the pavement, blowing off in the wind. "Right where you belong," Patrick muttered.
I deadpanned, "It's touching." Ian looked at me and nodded, "I'm tearing up," he stated flatly. I noticed Lip looking over at us with a furrowed brow.
Once the box was empty, cousin Patrick sighed and turned to face his family, "Okay, kids, let's go." They turned to leave but Fiona stepped forward, "Patrick!"
He faced us, Fiona, Lip, Ian and I stood in front of him with the others started walking slowly along the sidewalk.
"So Ginger had a will we didn't know about and you had it sitting in a drawer?" Fiona wondered, narrowing her eyes. "Yup," Patrick nodded. "And even though she hated your guts... she left our house to you?" Fiona questioned.
"It was never your house," Patrick stated with a scoff. "It's weird," Lip sniffed, "How she signed the will only a year ago, her being invalid and all," he tilted his head at our cousin.
"Signed and notarised," Patrick told us. "I don't remember you coming by with a lawyer," Lip scowled at him. Patrick sighed, "I gotta get back to my family."
