Second Cousin Joe

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story about a girl. It's random. VERY random.

Submitted: August 26, 2008

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Submitted: August 26, 2008

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The most interesting person I met on my holidays.
By Rosalie Saxon.
The most interesting person I met on my holidays was Harold Jones, the Prime Minister. I met him at his son’s wedding to my sister Letitia. There were a lot of important people at the wedding, such as most of the Cabinet. I had the chance to talk to Harold Jones. I found him very easy to talk to, which is good, because I’ll be seeing a lot more of him.
We talked about politics a lot, most of which I wasn’t very interesting. Still I found him the most interesting person I met on my holidays.  
 
“Great essay, Rosalie, but just a little far-fetched, don’t you think?” said Mrs. Ferguson. “It’s very unlikely that you actually did meet Harold Jones on your holidays.” I sighed. She didn’t believe me, like almost everyone in my class. Everyone except my best friend, Eliza Carter, thought that I was pretending that my sister, Letitia, got married to Adam Jones, the Prime Minister’s son. Didn’t they watch the news? It was the second story on the ABC news, and there was a picture of ME on there, for goodness’ sake. I was a bridesmaid, but it was hard to recognise me, with all the make-up that Letitia had insisted that I put on. 
“Don’t you watch the news, Mrs. Ferguson?” I asked. “It was the second story on ABC news on the 19th of January.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course I watch the news. The American news, I’ve got satellite TV.”
“Do you read the newspaper?”
“I read the American newspaper. All they report is the election.”
“Well, search for Letitia Jones on Google. You’ll believe me then.”
“I don’t have Internet access at my house,” replied Mrs. Ferguson.
“Well, search here then,” I said.
“Just go to lunch, Rosalie. You won’t get enough time to eat.”
“I’m a fast eater.”
“I want to eat my lunch. Please, just go away. I believe you, but I want you to rewrite the essay.”
I could tell she didn’t. I knew she just wanted me to go away. I wasn’t stupid. But it was hard to believe that my sister had just got married to Adam Jones.
***
“Rosie, come over and look at this,” said Tatiana. Tatiana is my other older sister. She’s 21, and very annoying. I hated it when she called me Rosie. It was a nickname she gave me when I was five, after I had drenched myself in my mum’s Crabtree & Evelyn Rose Perfume.
“Tatiana, for the last time, DON’T call me Rosie,” I said.
“Okay, I won’t call you Rosie if you look at this.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t they teach you anything at school anymore? It’s a poll, silly,” Tatiana said.
“Oh, a poll, I see,” I said sarcastically.
“Just look at it. See, it’s a poll on the hottest couple for January, and 56% of voters thought that Letitia and Adam Jones were!”
“And who were the other couples in the poll?” I asked.
“You know, the usual bunch of brainless celebrities. Now go away, I need to study for a test.” Tatiana HATES celebrities. She thinks that they are a bunch of brainless people who go around having plastic surgery every other day.
“You were the one made me look at the stupid poll, in another one of those stupid magazines you read,” I retorted. “And I AM going, I need to rewrite my essay on the most interesting person I met on my holidays, cos stupid Mrs. Ferguson doesn’t believe me about meeting the Prime Minister.”
“She’s the American one, isn’t she? I never liked her.”
“What a surprise,” I muttered under my breath. Tatiana has a little thing about Americans. A big thing, actually. She hates them. No, loathes them. Even more than she loathes celebrities. She particularly hates American celebrities, so that accounts for most of them. Especially the dumb ones like George Bush, Paris Hilton and Bindi Irwin. Well, Bindi Irwin isn’t TECHNICALLY American, but her mother is, so that counts.
“What was that?” asked Tatiana.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. Maybe TOO quickly.
 “You were commenting on my hate for Americans, weren’t you?” she said.
“I just don’t get why you hate them so much. Without them, we wouldn’t have the computer or the telephone or the Twilight series.” That was the main reason I didn’t hate Americans. Without them, the Twilight series would never have been written.
“Someone would have invented them sooner or later. Anyway, to me they’re just dumb people who speak weird. And WHY are you so obsessed with Twilight?”
“Tatiana, they’re good books. Before I read them, I thought there couldn’t be a book better than the Harry Potter books, but there is. Americans aren’t ALL dumb. Just most of them.” I didn’t exactly like Americans either, but I didn’t HATE them.
“Rose, I thought you needed to finish that essay for Mrs. Ferguson, the American English teacher?”
“I do, so I’m going now!” I went to my room and started to rewrite my essay. It was hard, because all the interesting people I’d met over the holidays were either politicians or, um, politicians, neither of which stupid Mrs. Ferguson would believe. Maybe if Harold Jones had invited George Bush to the wedding, Mrs. Ferguson would believe me.
“Dinner!” called out Mum.
“Coming!” I replied.
***
“Mrs. Ferguson, I rewrote the essay,” I said.
“Good. What’s this one about?”
“The Prime Minister’s son.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“At my sister’s and his wedding.”
“Why can’t you do something like everyone else, like your second cousin Joe or something, or your brother-in-law?”
“Well, I’m not like everyone else, and also, this IS about my brother-in-law.” Mrs. Ferguson sighed.
“Okay, Rose, this is a great essay, but next time, please just write about something like everyone else,” said Mrs. Ferguson.
“Okay Mrs. Ferguson. Next time I’ll write a boring essay on how I met my second cousin Joe like everyone else. But don’t you get bored reading about everyone’s second cousin Joe?”
“Yes I do get bored; I actually enjoyed your essay. It was a good change for me. Everyone seems to write about their second cousin Joe. Well, Rose, you better go off to lunch. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
***
“Rose? Is that you? You’ll never guess who’s here!”
 “Hi, Tatiana. Of course it’s me. Who else would it be? So, who is it? Your new boyfriend?” Tatiana blushed.
“Don’t be silly. It’s Letitia!”
“Hi!” said Letitia, popping out from the kitchen.
“Hi, Letitia! What are you doing here? I thought you were meant to be in Barcelona!” I said.
“Oh, we decided to come back earlier cos I was missing you so much.”
“Where’s Adam?”
“He’s at his house; he wanted to see his sister.”
“How old is she again?” asked Tatiana.
“Thirteen. She’s such a lovely girl,” said Letitia. “It was such a sad thing that happened to her though.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Her mother died when she was five, and she was adopted by the Saxons when she was seven.”
“What happened the two years in between?” asked Tatiana.
“She lived in an orphanage. Her father was killed in a car accident when she was two.”
“How did the mother die?” I asked.
“I’m not exactly sure. Why don’t you ask Adam?” Adam walked into the lounge room.
“Letitia, I’ve found the perfect house. It’s only two streets away, so you can walk here,” said Adam.
“How much is it?” asked Letitia.
“It’s $3000 a week.”
“Oh, that’s not too bad. Can you ring up the agent and tell them we’ll take it?” said Letitia.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll ring him up now.”
“Rose, don’t you have homework to do?” asked Mum, walking into the room. She had just got home from work. She worked at a bank, and was almost always home late.
“No,” I said.
“Oh, hello, Adam,” said Mum. Our parents hadn’t exactly liked Adam when they first found out that Adam and Letitia were engaged. “I thought you weren’t meant to be back from Barbados until next week.”
“Mum, we were in Barcelona, not Barbados,” said Letitia, coming into the room.
“I thought you were going to Barbados!” exclaimed Mum.
“Well, we WERE, but there was a last-minute change of plans.”
“You’re the queen of ‘last-minute changes of plans’,” muttered Tatiana as she wandered into the room.
“What was that, Tatiana?” asked Mum. “You shouldn’t talk about people behind their backs’.”
“Mum, I wasn’t talking about her behind her back. She’s right here!”
“Oh yes, good point.”
“Now, girls, do you want to know why I came home early?”
“Not really,” said Tatiana.
“It was because I wanted you to meet your second cousin Joe!” exclaimed Mum.
“WHAT? We have a second cousin Joe? NOOO, this can’t be happening! I don’t WANT to have a second cousin Joe!” I exclaimed.
“Rose, EVERYONE has a second cousin Joe. It’s a fact of life. And, they’re usually crooks. But don’t worry, YOUR second cousin Joe isn’t a crook,” said Mum. “And, Tatiana, be warned, he is an American. “
“WHAT? He can’t be American. I thought it was bad having a second cousin called Joe. But I know something worse! Having an AMERICAN second cousin called Joe! NOOO! This cannot be happening to me! It’s a tragedy! It’s an even bigger tragedy than when they cancelled Doctor Who, because of ONE tiny swearword! Stupid Kevin Rudd. WHY did he have to make swearing illegal in shows before 8:30? WHY? It was only one word that isn’t technically a swearword! It was only ‘what the hell?’ They say that in every episode! This is SOOO annoying”—
“Tatiana, just shut up, you’re getting sidetracked,” said Letitia.
 “Letitia, don’t talk like that to your sister,” said Mum. “He’s coming here tonight for dinner.”
“Oh yay. How fun,” said Tatiana sarcastically.
“Tatiana, BE NICE.” The bell rang. “That will be Joe.”
“Howdy do. I am your second cousin Joe. Would you like to buy a chicken from the Chicken Champ chicken farm?” he greeted us.
“Definitely a crook,” I muttered to Tatiana. She giggled.
“What are laughing about, Tatiana and Rosalie?” he asked in a monotonous voice.
“Nothing, Joe,” said Tatiana.
“No, thank you, Joe, we would NOT like to buy a chicken from the Chicken Champ chicken farm,” said Mum. “And if you try to sell us anything else, you will not be welcome back here.”
“Are you sure? Or do you want a crocodile handbag from the crocodile handbag farm. Great handbags for everyone!”
“That’s it! Get out!” shouted Mum.
***
“Alright, everyone, go to lunch!” said Mrs. Ferguson. “Rosalie, stay for a while. I need to tell you something.”
“What is it, Mrs. Ferguson?”
“I found out that your sister DID marry Adam Jones. I’m sorry for not believing you.”
“That’s okay, Mrs. Ferguson. Remember you were saying that everyone has a second cousin Joe? You were right. I did have one. I’ll write an essay about him if you want me to.”
“No, you don’t need to, Rosalie. Now you should go to lunch, because you look like you are about to faint.”
“Okay, I will. I AM about to faint.”
“See you tomorrow. And don’t forget that essay on whales and how they should not be killed for their meat,” said Mrs. Ferguson.
“I won’t, Mrs. Ferguson.” I suppose Tatiana WAS right, Americans WERE annoying. But Mrs. Ferguson was right too, because now I know that everyone has a second cousin Joe.
Second Cousin Joeà

THE END


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