My aunt is utterly insane. Men in white coats need to track her down, tie her up, put a straitjacket on her, and throw her into a room with rubber walls where she can’t hurt anyone. I’m not kidding! Seriously! Whenever she visits, she starts snapping her fingers in front of my face. Then she starts asking me questions about my nerves and appetite, checking to see if I’m showing any of the common diabetes symptoms. Somehow, some way, I seem to end passing her inspections though I’m worried one day she’ll pull out a syringe and try to inject me full of insulin. I have no idea what that would do to me, but I really don’t want to find out any time soon. One Thanksgiving, my mother was having trouble cooking the turkey, so my aunt grabbed a meat cleaver and ran outside. We were about to call the police, but my father found her trying to hunt turkeys out in the woods. And, no, I do not think the turkey is a woodland creature. I’m just lucky she didn’t start hallucinating that everyone around her was a turkey. I don’t know if we all could have fought her off.