Buried In Buttercream

without it, and what sad commentary on her daily life that was.
    “Well, you’re gonna hear what I’ve got to say,” Savannah told them. “So listen up, all of you.”
    She drew a deep breath. “Vidalia, I love those children of yours to pieces, but I swear, if you don’t keep them from tearing up my house, I’m gonna send you a bill that’ll knock your eyeballs out. And I’m gonna expect you to pay it. So far you owe me for two African violets, three rose bushes, the plumber’s bill from Jilly flushing that toy teacup down the toilet, the dry cleaning to get the peanut butter and jelly off my good bedspread—who the hell sends a kid off for a nap with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in his hand? Oh ... and a toothbrush.”
    “A toothbrush?”
    “Yes. Your son decided to pee on mine. God knows why.”
    “He didn’t!”
    “He did! I caught him in the act.”
    Savannah turned to Marietta. “And I’m not going to tell you again that when you’re in my house, you’ll watch family-oriented programming on that television or not watch it at all. With children and our saintly grandmother in the house, you’ll show some restraint and respect, or I swear I’ll unplug the thing and hide the cord.”
    “Well! I—”
    “And while I’m talkin’ to you ... from now on you make your own damned bologna sandwiches! You’re over forty years old, for Pete’s sake! Learn to feed yourself!”
    She glanced toward the foyer and saw Dirk standing just around the corner, a big grin across his mug.
    On a roll, she turned to Macon. “Haul your butt up off that floor,” she told him, “and make yourself useful for once! Pick up all this food trash you’ve been throwin’ down for the past week and drag the garbage to the curb. Tomorrow’s collection day. And when you get back in here, go put on some clean clothes and throw those in the washing machine. You haven’t changed since you been here, and frankly, you smell like the south end of a north-bound polecat.”
    It was Jesup’s turn. “If you want to spend your life painting spiders and bats and blood drops and other weird things on your body, that’s your business. But do it outside, ’cause you’ve already got that glittery makeup crap all over my couch, and if you get it on my comfy chair, you’re gonna pay to have it reupholstered.”
    “Well! I never had anybody speak so disrespectful to me in all my livin’ life!” Vidalia said, jumping up off the sofa with far more energy than Savannah had seen her display in years. “And frankly, Savannah, I’m disappointed in you that you’d speak so harshly to anyone, let alone your loved ones. I thought better of you.”
    “Oh, come down off that high horse before you get a nose bleed,” Savannah told her. “You kept us all awake half the night, yelling at Butch because he said he likes your big butt! You’ve got a big heinie, Vidalia! Of course you do; you’re a Reid! And lucky for you, you’ve also got a sweetheart of a husband who loves every inch of it. Get over it and move on! Geezzzz!”
    “Well! If that don’t just cap it all!” Vidalia said, as she stomped across the living room, passed Dirk in the foyer, and huffed and puffed her way up the staircase.
    “Quiet down, or you’ll wake up those younguns of yours,” Savannah called after her. “And then poor Butch’ll have to watch ’em, ’cause Lord knows, you’ll be too busy reading about what nit-wit movie star’s screwin’ what other ’un.”
    Vidalia continued to huff and puff, but she did lighten her step as she disappeared up the staircase.
    With a bit of effort, Macon raised his bulk from the floor and did a pseudo brush off of his sweat pants. “Well, I guess I’ll go change clothes, since I’ve been told that I stink !”
    “Eh,” Jesup said, “ain’t like it’s the first time somebody told you that.” She gathered up her makeup and tossed it into a skull and crossbones kit. “And I’ll take my grooming supplies out to the backyard. That is, if Savannah isn’t afraid I’ll get nail polish on her lawn furniture.”
    “Actually, I am. Sit on the grass.”
    Jesup disappeared, too.
    “Well,” Marietta said, making a great show of changing the channels on the television to one with cartoons, then tossing the remote control onto the coffee table. “If this ain’t a fine how-do-you-do. We come all the way out here to watch you celebrate your nut-chew-alls and—”
    “Nuptials, Marietta. For God’s