The Wildabeast: Holy batshit, batman she is weird. Click here for an introduction.
This morning at Startbucks they were offering free lattes to people who introduced themselves to the barista. I introduced myself to the barista under my Starbucks name, Anastasia Beaverhousen. Instantly I was reminded of the late Karen Walker and how much my youngest sister, the wildabeast, reminds me of her. Both of their Pikachus are like Vegas, high traffic and full of glitter.
The wildabeast is beautiful, which is really her only option, being such a freak. She has an artist's eye for men who blur the lines between art and genitals. A late bloomer though, as I remember having to explain to her at the ridiculous age of about 11 what kissing was when, after catching her with her tiny ear jammed up against my older sister's door and asking her why she was spying - she explained to me that my older sister had been 'whispering right in a boy's mouth' all day - RIGHT IN IT! And she'd gone all Nancy Drew, determined to figure out what the secret was and report back up to Mystery Creek.
The wildabeast now dresses impeccably and consistently. But this wasn't always the case. Growing up she had two outfits, naked, and beauty and the beast underwear. When she was about five during lunch one day she had the following conversation with my Grandmother:
> wildabeast: Grandma, why doesn’t your skin fit your face?
> Grandmother: because I am old, little!
> wildabeast: How old are you? You look like you're about 5 billion years old.
> Grandmother: Oh, I don't remember anymore, little. I just tell people I'm as old as my skin hangs.
> wildabeast: You're stupid. Let me look in the back of your underwear, it will say your age. Mine say AGE:5, see? [puts the underwear she was previously just wearing on the table, as proof]
But that's wildabeast, and she's still pretty weird. She thought her hiccups were her teeth coughing. She called her farts 'butt dust'.