My heart broke when I saw cousin Lou Lou’s pudgy fingers grasping my precious Minnie Pearl collector plate. It sickens me to think of poor Minnie hanging on that trashy trailer wall, even if she will have her friends Loretta and Tanya next to her.

When I heard that treacherous traitor daughter of mine say, “I’m sure Ma would say you should have it, if only she could talk!” I about split my spleen right then and there. Why the good Lord burdened me with this pack of thieves and lowlifes for a family I’ll never understand.

Traitors and ne’er-do-wells, the whole lot of ‘em. If I could get out of this wheelchair and thrash them with my broomstick, I would. Confound this stroke of mine. Now I get to live out the rest of my days in a nursing home. With old people. Old people who smell like mothballs and talk nonsense.

And could they have chosen the fancy home for me? Oh, no. They wouldn’t think of it. There wouldn’t be enough inheritance to squabble over once I’ve passed, I imagine. Instead, they chose Woodland Arms.

It’s just as well, I suppose. I’ve spent my whole life surrounded by drunks and scoundrels, so the staff at Woodland seems mighty familiar to me. Now I’ll have to do is get used to the smell of Lysol. I’ve always hated Lysol.

My spoon collection! Put that down, Charlene! I hate you, you redneck piece of…no, that glimmer in my eye is NOT approval, you southern-fried hussy! It’s wrath, I tell you, you bunch of deceitful ingrates!

Fine. So be it. But I’ll get my vengeance someday. Mark my words.

I just wish someone would roll me away to Woodland so I wouldn’t have to see all this. I hate my family.

They better come visit me.