Once upon a time, there was a little Jehovah’s Witness named Holylocks.
She had been wandering through the neighborhood, and stumbled upon a quaint suburban home, lined with a white picket fence and two Volkswagens parked in parallel perfectly on the parkway.
Walking towards the door of the house, she thought to herself, ‘Oh this is such a lovely home. I bet the family inside is nothing like the other families with whom I’ve tried to speak.’
She was right.
For it was the home of the Unbearables.
There was Unbearable mama, who was only bearable on Percedex.
There was Unbearable papa, who was only bearable when Unbearable Mama was bearable.
And their Unbearable kid, who couldn’t bear them both.
Straightening her crisp white blouse and ironing over her beige polyester skirt, Holylocks rang the doorbell.
Unbearable Mama opened the door.
‘Hello, I’m here to bring you eternal happiness.’
‘Finally! I’ve sent thousands of emails asking you guys to start offering door to door service!’
Holylocks seemed confused. ‘But we already do?’
‘Well then, you should write that on the bottle.’
Unbearable mama scoffed. ‘Grey Goose doesn’t come in a juice box.’ Her eyes shifted left, doubting the assertion of her statement. ‘Does it?’
‘I’m not from Grey Goose. I’m from Jehovah’s Witnesses.’
Unbearable mama gazed through Holylocks.’Oh yeah…Mary, my neighbor, insists you guys make the meanest scotch. I’m not really a scotch drinker, but hell, come on in…’
Holylocks entered the house. It was absolutely immaculate. Mahogany polished floors, large canvas windows framing the external green landscape and high classic ceilings ornamented in the foyer by a dangling crystal chandelier whose chassis mirrored the shape of the spiral staircase under it.
‘I’m so outta here.’ The voice had come from a top of the staircase, where Holylocks saw a short gangly girl garbed in black, lit up only by the florescent green of her spiky teased out hair.
It was Unbearable kid.
Grunge-ing down the stairs, Unbearable kid imprinted each cream carpeted step with the sole of her chunky black leather boots.
‘Who is this,’ she said interrogating Unbearable mama while inspecting Holylocks with her darting blue irises, which seemed to be suffocating between all the melting black eyeliner and eyeshadow.
‘You’re not going anywhere. I told you, you’re grounded.’
Unbearable kid continued to inspect Holylocks. She then turned around and climbed the steps, making freshly new boot imprints atop the old ones. ‘Bitch.’
Holylocks gasped, as she hadn’t realized the comment was directed at Unbearable mama.
‘Why don’t you go and practice throwing up. If you become good enough at it, Vogue might hire you.’ Percedex may have caused Unbearable mama’s tongue to trip, but its biting sarcasm was still impeccably coordinated.
‘Ah, I can come back another time.’
‘No, no, no… don’t mind her… why don’t you make yourself comfortable while I get us some glasses so we can crack open that bottle of Jehovah’s Witnesses of yours.’
Holylocks ignored Unbearable mama’s comment, assuming she was joking around with her, and sat on the plushly embroidered sofa in the adjacent living room. Just then she heard keys clanging against the door, struggling to penetrate the lock.
A tall man walked it.
It was Unbearable papa.
He didn’t notice Holylocks.
‘Hello, I’m Holylocks.’
Searching the air to determine where the voice came from, his eyes rolled towards the sofa and landed dead straight on Holylocks.
He must have been a doctor, Holylocks thought. He was examining her very intently.
She also must have thought him to be a gynecologist. His examination was of her upper chest cavity.
Then unbearable mama came back. Without waiting for the question, unbearable mama answered it.
‘She’s from the Jehovah’s Witness Company.’
Unbearable papa turned around and, as usual, ignored Unbearable mama’s unrequested reply, only interested to listen to questions he actually prompted. ‘What’s for dinner?’
‘There’s a cyanide casserole in the fridge. Why don’t you go heat it up?’
‘I don’t complain at night about getting leftovers after you’ve come back from fucking that bimbo slut…’
Unbearable papa strolled towards the kitchen, his voice carrying through the hallway, ‘Holylocks? Tell her God doesn’t like it when she calls her mother names.’
Unbearable mama screamed back, ‘Stepmother! She’s not my mother!’
Unbearable mama sat next to Holylocks and opened a small silver box. Holylocks’s face turned at the sight of all the rainbow of pills inside. Looking at Holylocks looking at the pills, Unbearable mama felt ashamed.
‘How rude of me. Would you like one?’
Holylocks cleared her throat. ‘No, thank you. If this is a bad time, I can come back.’
Unbearable papa came back. ‘Stay. We insist.’
Looking at Unbearable mama, he raised his eyebrows.
Unbearable mama looked at Holylocks. ‘Well she did bring the booze. That makes for the ambiance. But the abortion you wouldn’t let me have is still in her room…’
Holylocks looked at them both blankly and automatedly began her scripted speech. ‘Are you feeling lost? Unhappy? Do you feel like even though you have everything you want, something’s missing? Do you know what that something is?’
‘Yeah. The glasses. I forgot them in the kitchen.’ Unbearable mama got up to get them.
Holylocks reset her memory and turned to Unbearable papa, re-reciting her automated script again. ‘Are you feeling lost? Unhappy? Do you feel like-‘
‘You know what I feel like? Going upstairs.’
Holylocks lowered her head and gazed at the Persian rug, which she didn’t know was Persian, as she didn’t know a place called Persia even existed. ‘Oh… please stay and listen what I have to say, it isn’t going to take long. In fact, from what I’ve seen here, I am sure that God brought me to this very house because you are in great need of me showing Him to you.’
Unbearable mama came back in and set three short glasses on the coffee table.
‘Oh, I’ve seen God.’ Unbearable papa leaned in towards Holylocks.
‘All the time. Upstairs.’ Standing up, Unbearable papa extended his hand to her.
Holylocks’s religious intuition rattled and she started to suspect Unbearable papa’s intentions.
‘We can show you God too. Upstairs.’
Holylocks felt a surge of internal relief, followed by a tsunami of guilt.
How terrible, she thought, for her to think Unbearable papa may have been making an indecent proposal, when he all he meant was for Holylocks to go upstairs with him and his wife so they could both show her God.
‘REALLY? REALLY? You have no idea how much it would mean to me!’ Holylocks jumped up and grabbed his hand, reaching out with her other hand for Unbearable mama to hold.
Clasping her hand, Unbearable mama, along with Holylocks and Unbearable papa, walked towards the staircase.
Holylocks stopped a few steps up and turned to them. ‘Have you shown your daughter God? She seems like she’s in awful need of seeing Him.’
Unbearable mama smiled. ‘That would be illegal.’