Constance Bee

She grouched, grumbled, griped and groaned. We complained about her complaining. She was a pain Still we lugged her around to all family reunions She could clear a good story off a picnic table in seconds Replacing it with something dour, dank, disgusting and depressing She is our great Aunt Constance Bee. Here she comes now, watch the relatives scatter. Same attitude, same gripes, same wheezing and sneezing. She walks toward us one leg at a time, bearing down with a hard look. You have to admit she is consistent, mother says. She has enough consistencies to be predictive, actually. On a good note, we know if we bring her, we do not have to stay forever. The rest of them clap as we get up to leave; which makes it easier to get out the door. Which may be why we always bring Aunt Constance Bee.