Aunt Sookie & Me: the sordid tale of a scandalous southern belle

Aunt Sookie & Me: the sordid tale of a scandalous southern belle

by Michael Scott Garvin


Publisher CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

Published in Literature & Fiction/Humor, Literature & Fiction

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Book Description

Aunt Sookie & Me: The Sordid Tale of a Scandalous Southern Belle is irreverent, hilarious, and heartbreaking. All political correctness is buried alongside the dead corpse in the family vegetable garden in this riotous book. But don’t let the folksy and fresh recipe fool you, Garvin serves up a big helping of reality, cutting through small-town bigotry and bias.

Sample Chapter

This story is mine.

It belongs to me and me alone. Why I have chosen to lay bare such private matters to unfamiliar eyes is a mystery to me. Plenty of well-intentioned folks have warned me to keep such messy matters out of sight, hidden below my box springs.

The Sunday morning before we buried the frozen corpse beneath the vegetable garden, Aunt Sook looked me straight in the eye and said, “Folks who go around leavin’ their screen door swung wide open for every passin’ stranger and wild critter gets precisely what’s comin’ to them.”

Old Sookie was a wise one. I suspect her sentiment was true. Opening my door to y’all may be plain foolishness, and there lies the rub.

I was planted on Sook’s lap, plucking stray black hairs sprouting from her chin, while she painted my lips with apricot lipstick.

Peeking over the top of her bifocals, she declared, “Child, it ain’t no one’s concern how you live your life. It ain’t no preacher’s business, no politician’s, and it certainly ain’t no nosy neighbor’s concern.”

Stricken with the shakes, old Aunt Sook’s trembling hand applied the waxy lip color like we was traveling on some unpaved road. She drew a crooked line on my upper lip from one corner, clear across my mouth and up the far side of my cheek. Yellow cataracts blanketed her eyes, like two blue marbles coated by lemon custard. As she applied a teal eye shadow to my upper lids with a foam-tipped stick, I listened to Sook’s every word.

“Missy, you heed what I’m saying to you. A child with your peculiarities should just bolt her door tight and keep your private matters to yourself. Are you listenin’?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

My aunt Sook’s front door was always shut tight, locked, and bolted. I reckon I was the only living soul to possess my very own house key, strung about my neck on a tied shoelace. Jesus Christ himself, returning from heaven, could be knocking on Sook’s door, but she wouldn’t never unlatch her three deadbolts.

Sook pulled me in close and cupped my face in her quivering hands. Searching my eyes, she said, “Poppy, you gotta take a tight grip of what is rightfully yours, or someone else is likely to snatch it up. You understand, child?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ain’t no one ever gonna snatch up my story. This here story is mine to tell.


Excerpted from "Aunt Sookie & Me: the sordid tale of a scandalous southern belle" by Michael Scott Garvin. Copyright © 2017 by Michael Scott Garvin. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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