Chapter 2
Drinking Game Tally: 18 drinks, 7 chugs, 0 shots
Creep Award: Corinne
Chapter 3
Drinking Game Tally: 12 drinks, 27 chugs, 3 shots
Creep Award: Christopher
Friends! Countrymen! YA readers! Lend me your shot glasses! It is time for another installment of everyone’s favorite tween porn book, Flowers in the Attic!
Where last we had left our intrepid narrator Cathy, she and her obnoxious siblings: Closeted Chris, Caterwauling Carrie and Consumptive Cory were having a tale spun by their psychotic mother, Conniving Corrine.
Corrine has explained to her children that they are poor (and thus worthless), and that she is going to trade in their happiness in order to have her very own jacuzzi tub. She doesn’t exactly say it like that, but that is what she means.
Which, can you blame her? I mean, those jets are extremely relaxing.
Sit back, refresh yourself on the drinking game rules, and let’s get ready to retch!
Chapter 2: Road to Riches
The trains run like snakes through Pentacostal pines – R. Adams
Number of Drinks Taken: 18
Number of Drinks Chugged: 7
Number of Shots: 0
Chapter Summary
Well, jeepers!! We sure have been on this train forever! The twins are sleeping straight through, because they are bizarre goat children who never learned that the job of any child aged 1 day to 15 years is to be as obnoxious as possible on public transportation.
Chris keeps looking at me, when he isn’t making fuck eyes at Momma, and I sure do think he’s dreamy and handsome. But gosh, I wish Momma would answer our questions. Everytime we ask her something simple, like when will we get there or why her dad hates her or why she keeps looking at us and then muttering to herself about sunshine, she just avoids the question. Weird!
It’s also kind of weird how the train conductor is calling my mom a totally different name. I’m sure that there’s a perfectly logical reason that we’re travelling under false identity to creep into our grandparents’ mansion in the dead of night! Probably it’s like we’re on that show Punk’d, which hasn’t been invented yet.
I can’t wait to be rich! I’m going to be such a horrible bitch to everyone!! It’ll be awesome!
The Creepy Award Goes To
Once, Twice, Three Times a Creeper, Ms. Corrine Foxworth-Gardner-Dollanganger!! Okay, check it: beyond the nervous hand-ringing and ENDLESS clasping of things to her bosom (who the hell clasps that many things to their bosom? The only thing I clasp to my bosom is loose money when I’m out at the bar and have forgotten my purse), she also hauls all four of her perfect, illegitimate, twice-inbred children (is inbreeding like adding negative numbers in math? Do two instances of inbreeding count each other out?) down through the country in the middle of the night, under an assumed identity as if she is motherfucking Jason Bourne. Corrine Dollanganger!!! I know Jason Bourne; I am friends with Jason Bourne. You, lady, are no Jason Bourne!
And then, just in case you haven’t realized that she is A CRAZY PERSON, she totally starts talking to herself – IN FRONT OF HER CHILDREN – about how she is planning to imprison them for the rest of their lives. Of course, her kids are all dumber than a sack of hammers, so it’s not like they realize that she is announcing her Evil Plans. BUT STILL. A little decorum, Ms Foxworth-Gardner-Dollenganger, if you please.
Notes from the Margin
And I supposed I’d have my own maid to lay out my clothes, draw my bath, brush my hair, and jump when I commanded. But I wouldn’t be too stern with her . . . unless she broke something I really cherished! Then there’d be hell to pay – I’d throw a temper tantrum, and hurl a few things I didn’t like, anyway.
You see, Cathy?? THIS IS WHY YOU CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS! Go back to your attic!
“Wake up the twins!” snapped Momma . . . “Stand them up on their feet, and force them to walk, whether or not they want to.” Then she mumbled something faint into the fur collar of her jacket that just barely reached my keen ears: “Lord knows, they’d better walk outside while they can.”
Corrine, WHY DON’T YOU JUST KILL THEM NOW? I mean, I’m not advocating the murdering of children – not even annoying ones like Cathy or skeevy ones like Chris – but you’rejust going to try to kill them anyway in just a few years/300 pages. YOU COULD HAVE SAVED US ALL SO MUCH PAIN!
I had seen and heard [Momma] wheedle with our father about money matters, and always Daddy was the one to give in and be won over to her way. Just a kiss, a hug, a soft stroking caress and Daddy would brighten up and smile, and agree, yes, somehow or other they could manage to pay for everything expensive she bought.
LOLZ feminism is for suckerz!!!
It seemed to me like an inverted deep bowl of navy-blue velvet, sparkled all over with crystallized snowflakes instead of stars – or were they the tears of ice that I was going to cry in the future?
HOW DID THIS GET PUBLISHED?????? (and then there’s a rip in that page where I accidentally tore a hole through the last question mark in my rage)
“Christopher, did you hear what the grandmother said about a half-uncle?Did you understand what she meant?”
“No, but I suppose Momma will explain everything.”
Oh, CHRISTOPHER. Honey, what book have you been reading?
Chapter 3: The Grandmother’s House
Keep my commandments – God
Number of Drinks Taken: 12
Number of Drinks Chugged: 27 (holla, grandma’s rules!)
Number of Shots: 3
Chapter Summary
Well, gosh! Our Grandmother sure seems to hate us a lot! I can’t figure out why, either! She’s only just met us; how could she know that eventually I’ll have sex with my brother, my adopted father, my stepfather and a psychotic ballet dancer? I don’t even know that yet!
Anyway, Grandmother really likes telling us what to do, and what not to do, all the time. Like, we have to pray, A LOT. And we have to eat all of our food and never ever waste any of it, cause there are starving people in some other country that we don’t care about. Also, we have to make super sure that we don’t ever look at each other, and make sure we’re fully clothed at all time. Plus, Grandmother says that Jesus is watching us, and He’ll know if we get tingly feelings, you know, down there.
Also, Christopher is being even jerkier than ever! He keeps talking about how he can pee standing up, and also about how he’s a boy so he’s better and smarter than me. Except, I guess that’s probably true, on account of how I think girls are silly and flighty.
The Creepy Award Goes To
Christopher Foxworth Garland Dollanganger, Jr!! Oh, what, you thought I was going to give it to the Grandmother? NO! I’m never ever ever going to give it to the Grandmother, because I LOVE HER. I mean, sure, bish be crazy to the extreme. But, considering she’s been raped and beaten by her husband, repeatedly, for the last 40 years or so, I think she’s actually adjusting quite well. Not to mention that she’s the only one with an accurate grasp on the situation. She knows that no one is ever, ever gonna be free until Grandfather kicks the bucket.
Anyway, back to the award! Christopher, you are a Creeper!! Your weird obsession with your mother, not to mention your officious, misogynist attitude . . . well, it’s no wonder the only girl who’ll have sex with you – EVER – is your sister. I mean, after you rape her.
Notes from the Margin
He laughed, then said with sarcasm, “What else? As the man, and the head of the family, let it be known hitherto that I am to be waited on hand and food – the same as a king. Wife, as my inferior, and my slave, set the table, dish out the food, make ready for your lord and master.”
UGH.
“From now on, I am not your brother, but your lord and master; you are to do my bidding, whatever I say.”
“And if I don’t do as you say – what will you do next, lord and master?”
“I don’t like the tone of your voice. Speak respectively when you speak to me.”
I’m pretty sure I’ve watched porn that starts out this way.
“I admit, in verbosity you females are blessed, just as we males are gifted with the perfect instrument for picnic bathrooming.”
WHAT.
“Cold CEREAL IS WHAT WE LIKE!”
New band name?
I handed Christopher the list of do’s [sic] and don’ts that were carefully typed in capital letters as if we were so stupid we couldn’t understand longhand.
Aww, Grandmother doesn’t think you’re stupid (though you are)! She just really loves KANYE CAPS! Cathy, I’m really happy for you, and imma let you finish, but Dawn Cutler had the best incest storyline of all time! OF ALL TIME!
“Twelve: you will refrain from looking at members of the opposite sex unless it is absolutely necessary.”
It would’ve served Grandmother right if they’d been gay. Oh, but, I forgot. In VC Andrews’ world, you can be an incestuous crazy person who locks children in an attick and poisons them with arsenic for six months but being GAY? That’s just unnatural!
. . . as our very own mother and father had proved, likes do attract.
Understatement of the Year.
That’s it for this week! Next week, our little blonde assholes venture to the attic for the first time!! Aww! Our little babies are growing up! For six months, until malnutrition and lack of Vitamin D stunt their growth, of course.
