Double Post is on vacation getting harassed by her in-laws in Wisconsin, so she likely will not read this. That's okay, it's written in the Big Book of Life, so she will hear it again when she arrives at the Pearly Gates. But for your entertainment, and a window into my tortured soul, I will hereby describe but one instance (okay, two) of my abuse at the sadistic hands of Double Post.

Some of you may recall that I am the youngest of four children, two sisters and a brother. Double Post is the second oldest, nine years older than me. I often sought out the company of my older siblings when I was little, because a childlike mind cannot sense or anticipate evil as a more experienced, mature one.

Once, when I was in kindergarten or first grade, I wanted Double Post to play with me. She said, "No, you're not cute anymore." As deeply as that cut me at the time, it was nothing compared to the frequent "appearance" of "Airie."

Actually, I'm not sure how to spell it, because I only heard it spoken when I wanted my sister's time and attention. She'd say, "I can't play with you; I'm playing with Airie." She would then commence to showering affection and offers of treats onto "Airie" in a sugary sweet falsetto.

"Airie, come play Barbies -- we can use Ubie's. Airie, do you want a popsicle? Airie, do you want to play hide and seek?" I'm sure Airie would win at that last one, because she was invisible. Then, after she was done torturing me thus and so, she'd say, "I'm too tired to play with you now. I played with Airie." This happened ALL THE TIME.

I haven't even touched on the "Crazy Joe" incidents.

You can't call DCFS anymore, people, but I will accept sympathy.