They were listening to Bach while they sculpted windmills out of Play-doh. The Play-doh was blue. Aunt Gertrude would only allow blue Play-doh in the chalet. It had been that way since the accident.

Aunt Gertrude was 78 years old and she had no arms or legs. She had cut them off in 1983 as a display of devotion to Reggie, her pet octopus. Reggie could have cared less. I remember my Aunt as she wielded the chainsaw, slicing off her limbs, bathing everything in warm red gore. Reggie could care less. He just emitted some ink. Even when Aunt Gertrude lay there, clutching the revving chainsaw in her left hand, unable to cut her left arm off because there was nothing to hold the chainsaw with. So I helped her. I cut off her final arm. Now Aunt Gertrude bounces everywhere. She had a giant teflon spring installed in her asshole.

Some people feel sorry for Aunt Gertrude because she is nothing but a head and torso (she flushed herself down the toilet twice.) But can she sing? Well, once she was invited to the Met to sing the Marriage of Figaro (and songs from Cats.) Three minutes is all we could take. Her singing was, and still is, terrible.

When she was done, she bounced off the stage using the giant teflong spring installed in her asshole. There were no accolades, no applause, no roses. Aunt Gertrude retired to her room, where she contented herself watching an old video of my grandfather playing with his marionette collection.

I have not seen my Aunt Gertrude in years, but I thought of her last night when I was at Wal Mart and I saw they had blue Play Doh for sale. Just for kicks, I opened the jar and I made a giant Play Doh spring. I think my Aunt Gertrude would have liked it even if it wouldn't have fit in her asshole.