family: a short story
Dear Therapist,
Well modern families are a unique bunch, no doubt. We call them "blended families" in our part of the world. Norway is like no other country in the world. We have six months of bright day light and six months of an inky black darkness, that requires an Inuit or a Vikings blood to survive. It is gruelling! An Indian girl had come here some years back, seeking an adventure and was quite startled seeing our weather, our culture, and our way of life! She was a foreign entity to us too! I will never forget her walnut brown skin, long neck, broad hips, the deep hollow of her voice (quite husky for a woman) and the lilting intonation of her speech. It was her bottoms that beguiled me the most: firm and round like a pumpkin hollowed out to perfection. I have secretly spanked it a couple of times, curious to see if it quivered like a balloon. I must confess, it was very firm!
She visited our house once, on a Sunday when the entire family was home after church. We perform as a team in the small red brick church on the corner of Grieg Street, across Sibelius park, and people come from all over Oslo to hear us! My daughter is particularly famous, and I am a very proud father. Can I tell you honestly, I sometimes feel like hitting the stupid idiots who gape at her! Am I wrong in feeling that way? I feel like extending the arm of my stiff black suit and smacking them hard across their faces! I see the love and longing in their eyes when they hear her voice! They stare at her slender, young frame and listen spell bound as she weaves them into a spell with that sweet, sonorous, soprano melody. She literally sparkles, and my heart swells with pride! How i wish my son Klar, was even the slightest bit like her! Yes, he is talented no doubt, but he is the black sheep of our family. He has a wonderful voice too, deeper than my daughter's, since he is at that brink of puberty, so I would call him and Alto. He is husky and plaintive when he closes his eyes and sings Ave Maria i can see the audience hold their breath. It is a voice that directly reaches the ears of God. But he is the black sheep because secretly he is an atheist! Ours is a barren Godless country, we are now converting most churches into Museums. It pains me to see that. However this one is the last house of God still standing, and I am so so proud to be a part of it! My wife always takes my son's side in all our fights about religion. To be honest, I'm fed up of that woman. Her nasal twang gets on my nerves, and I think she sounds like one of those swans floating on the lake in Sibelius park, constantly hankering after a crouton. She used to be quite shapely when I married her, slim and delicate as a reed. Now she is thick at the waist and I find her long tubular frame quite unattractive. Typical Viking lady: in our country, the cows look better than the women! She complains bitterly about me being a bad husband. She says I am unable to perform my husbandly duties by her, that she has been unsatisfied for years. One day I will muster up the courage to tell her, it's her bloody voice that puts me off. Every time I feel a stirring in my loins, and she shouts "You Bafoon!" and I feel the stiffness angled against my groin recceed into the hollow between my legs. It is terrible!!!
You may wonder why I am telling you this story, well it's partly because you are my therapist, and because you need to know why I am fully justified in having an affair with Mrs. T. Uba from next door. It began as a casual dalliance. I would wink at her across the pews during choir practice, and she would blush a furious shade of red. She is a handsome woman, so large and well rounded that her giant breasts sit on the wooden pew in front of her. Her buttocks firmly straddle two chairs, and I found myself fantasising how it would feel to lie in that golden ravine of skin between those large mounds, and listen to her deep voice whisper sweet nothings into my ear! "Jeg vil blåse deg," she whispered into my ear one day, very suddenly, in between the two verses of St. Matthew's passion. I felt myself turn scarlett! I pinched myself to confirm this wasn't a dream. "I vont to blow you," she whispered again in English. I felt a stirring of passion in between my important parts. That day, dear Therapist, I felt youthful and vibrant again. I moaned loudly, with passion as she rolled on top of me in tiny bed at the back of the church, and our shouts of joy could be heard as high as the steeples. It is actually no surprise that her husband heard our lamentations of passion and stormed into the back room, red with fury. Mr. T. Rambo N.E., true to his name, was a veritable Rambo. He caught me by my erect member and swung me across the room. "Aaaaaaaaa," screamed Mrs. T. Uba sharply. "How dare you do that to my lover!" "You are vitch!" replied her husband loudly. There was a huge scandal in the church. They called us ungodly, heathens and Mrs. T. Uba and I were thrown out from the congregation. We play now in the museums that use to house God, with all the outcasts who prefer to see paintings adorn the walls, instead of images of Our Lord. It is said that my beloved Mrs. T. Uba's scream was heard so loudly all over Norway, that it has been immortalized into a painting by a local artist.
As for our blended family, it is frowned upon by people in the Eastern world. How can a Woodwind live with a Brass? Well I have finally found my happiness!
Best regards,
Mr. Basoon
Since you have the look of a confused monk, I am drawing a family tree.
Her family:
A picture of us today:) a Modern blended family
The picture drawn by the local artist
Ps: I have one question for you, confused monk. Who is the Indian girl who came to visit???