Annual Meeting Report

The ninety-second annual meeting of the Flibbertygibbet family was held at the home of Zelda the Cousin on June fifteen. Also present (besides me and Zelda) were twelve first cousins twice removed, fifteen second cousins three times removed, a whole bunch of shirt-tail relations and some who aren't blood at all, but who think they are and nobody's gonna tell them anything else. It is pure conjecture that there were spirits of bygone aunts and uncles in attendance, but knowing this family there probably were several.

The purpose of said meeting was to dispose of the property of Great Granduncle Grossno Moss. He came to an untimely end while traveling to Tahiti with his fourth wife (Lotta, nee Bumm) on a sailboat made from Popsicle sticks.

The bone of contention is that no one wants the stuff, not even Lotta, who is willing to give it all to surviving wives two and three just to get out of this wacko family and get on with her fifth husband, Hugme Tite.

The problem is that at the forty-first annual reunion, some of the family lawyers, notably the firm of Shyster and Gimme, decided it was best to incorporate the relatives and make any holdings one-for-all. For this they got hefty dues and cauliflower ears. Nonetheless, the contract that was drawn up was unbreakable. (Those who married outside the group, like me and Zelda, were at least able to retain some assets, but Groamier and Pfister weren't so lucky. Another story.)

So the reunion became a corporate meeting, complete with election of a board and Roberts' Rules until I volunteered to take notes a few years ago. At least now we have gone back to pot-luck instead of day-old from the Fantasy Meat franchise in Goober County.

I digress. The meeting was called to order at 6:15 by President Biteme Finch, minutes were communicated and old business disposed of. After a statement of the clan finances by Mr. Shyster, a fight broke out in the porta-john. This was stopped by Phew Higgins, who removed the offenders (and the porta-john) with his front-loader.

After much discussion about the legality of the disposal of the  property, Mr. Gimme declared a free-for-all and everybody piled into their cars at Zelda's estate and headed toward Figleaf, Kentucky like a bunch of loons looking for cornbread.

Disappointment was rampant. Nobody, except wives one through four, a couple of concubines and an occasional Grand Pyrenees had ever set foot in the Moss house. Grossno was well-known for his addiction to frozen confections, large canines and women of shape, but no one suspected what his fortified mansion held.

At last count, according to the accounting firm of  Shotgun and Grabbit (fourth cousins, blood to Zelda but nothing to me, thank you, powers that be) there were four million, eight hundred seventy-six thousand, nine hundred and two Popsicle sticks, six hundred eight tubes of model airplane glue (explains a lot), seven bolts of sailing cloth, the entire contents of a Home Depot nail and screw department that he bought out in 1972 and thirty-seven cents in pennies from the couch cushions.

A brief discussion revealed that none of the bunch wanted anything, except the three-inch wood screws and the one-eighth washers, a pound of roofing nails and the thirty-seven cents.

The meeting was adjourned when it was agreed to cook hot dogs over the coals of the balsa in a pit made from upholstery tacks.

A wonderful time was had by all.

Respectfully submitted.