Annie Kruger had not seen her mother Hannah or her older sister Betty for several years. Annie's aunt and namesake, Hannah's sister Annie, was turning seventy. The Friday before Aunt Annie's party, Annie had flown in from New Mexico to Birmingham, where Hannah and Betty lived. They picked up Annie from the airport, and then the three of them drove up to Nashville for Aunt Annie's surprise party.

Annie's cousin Annie had flown in to Nashville from her home in Nebraska. Both cousins had been named for their Aunt Annie. To reduce confusion at family gatherings they were referred to as Annie One, Annie Two, and Annie Three. Annie Kruger was Annie Two.

The weekend had been a good one. Annie Two had worried about it, because her relationships with her mother and sister had been strained in recent years, but many of the old wounds had healed, or at least scabbed over, and the surprise party for Annie One went well, with all the cousins and aunts and uncles happy to be together again, however briefly.

The drive back to Birmingham on Sunday was also relaxed and enjoyable. Annie had difficulty remembering when the three of them had such a good time, laughing and giggling, and cutting up at restaurants. It was almost like old times.

As planned, they arrived at the airport with time to spare for Annie's flight back to Albuquerque. Waiting for the boarding call, they passed the time talking about the weekend. When the announcement came that it was time to board, Annie stood up, gathering her things.

At this point the story diverges. There's the Annie version, and there's the Hannah/Betty version.

From Annie's viewpoint:

As Annie stood, Hannah said, "Annie, you need to wait until they announce your row before you can get on the plane."

This is just the way Hannah was. She seemed to naturally assume that no one else was competent to manage their own life, and that her guidance was required at every step, especially by her children.

Like her siblings, Annie had grown up thinking this was just the way people treated each other. Now in her fourth decade, having lived without her mother's guidance for twenty years, and having spent much of that time in therapy, Annie without even thinking about it said, "Mom, I'm a big girl now. I can get on a plane by myself."

Hannah and Betty both appeared stunned, their mouths literally hanging open in astonishment. Annie had talked back to her mother! Annie sighed inwardly. She could tell immediately that she had done the "wrong thing" once again. The weekend was indeed turning out to be just like old times.

Betty walked over to Annie, ostensibly to give her a goodbye hug. In hugging Annie, Betty put one arm around her neck, essentially putting Annie in a headlock, so she could hold her close while she whispered none too subtly in her ear, "My mother doesn't deserve to be treated that way!" Not "our mother," but "my mother."

Betty had always done the headlock-hug, at least with family members. She had always acted as though her younger siblings were her personal possessions, slaves required to do her bidding and expected to be grateful for the privilege. So this act was completely in character for her.

Annie, however, was not the same little girl who for twenty years had lived with the emotional and physical abuse of her mother and sister before choosing to move twelve hundred miles away. As Betty whispered menacingly in her ear, Annie reflected on her Criminal Justice classes, recognizing that Betty's actions met the technical definition of assault. Annie reflected further on her martial arts training, thinking how easily she could break the headlock Betty had on her, and how quickly Betty could be on her back on the floor with yet another look of astonishment on her face, since neither she nor Hannah were aware of Annie's prowess in the dojo.

In the end, Annie chose to be non-confrontational and to detach from the situation. When Betty released Annie from her headlock-hug, Annie simply picked up her bag and said, "I'm going to get on the plane now." She then turned and walked away.

From Hannah and Betty's viewpoint:

As Annie stood, Hannah, just trying to be helpful, said, "Annie, you need to wait until they announce your row before you can get on the plane."

To Hannah and Betty's amazement, as Annie slowly turned to face them her hair turned to writhing snakes, her eyes began to glow an evil shade of red, electricity crackled from her fingertips, and in a demonic voice reminiscent of Linda Blair in the movie "The Exorcist" she spat, "I'm a big girl now. I can get on a plane by myself."

Betty, though horrified by this satanic response, bravely moved forward to hug her sister goodbye, confident that her moral strength and innate goodness would protect her from this hell-spawned apparition. After all, it was only her little sister Annie.

Putting her arms around Annie she sweetly reminded her, "My mother doesn't deserve to be treated that way." She could feel the malevolent energy coursing through Annie's body, crashing against Betty's shield of righteousness. She smelled sulfur in the air, felt the very fabric of her world being battered by Mephistophelean forces, but Betty courageously stood her ground.

When Betty finally relented and released Annie from her loving hug, she and Hannah were further amazed to see Annie puff up like a toad, seeming to shimmer as though her presence in this world was not altogether certain, as she picked up her bag and venomously proclaimed, "I'm going to get on the plane now" and turned and stalked away.

Betty turned to Hannah. They exchanged weary looks. It was difficult being the only two perfect people in the universe, surrounded by legions of evil and just plain stupid people. The two of them had always known they had each other, and that had helped them survive the onslaught of iniquitous idiots who populated their world.

As they walked away from the gate, surrounded by the fires of hell, protected only by their unwavering faith in their righteousness and innate superiority, anyone watching saw only an older woman and her middle aged daughter walking together, an ordinary scene on an ordinary day at a quiet airport in an ordinary town.