My mom informed me that I'd be the one tasked with entertaining my cousin when her and my great-aunt came over from Scotland. My great-aunt who married a Glasgow judge and my cousin who grew up wealthy in Scotland's capital. The same fancy great-aunt who was responsible for the only time I ever got soap in my mouth as a child.
Last time my aunt visited, my mom warned seven-year-old me to be on my best behavior. So naturally, I farted on her. My Grandpa found it hilarious, my darling mother did not. Liquid soap right in the mouth. Punishment didn't even make sense. Needless to say I was nervous for our second encounter.
When I was introduced to my cousin, or re-introduced rather, it was awkward. After asking pleasantries on the flight and duration of stay I had nothing. So we went quiet. Well, the grown-ups did not like that. They continued to tell us how close we were when we were infants like that meant anything to either one of us. Then my aunt told us the last time we were "hangin oot" together was when she had the two of us naked in the tub. Thanks for that, that definitely makes the situation way more comfortable. My cousin turned beet red at her grandmother and I pretended like I didn't hear it.
Separate and conquer was the method of choice. I had to get my cousin away from the adults so we didn't have to act like them. My other cousin, an American one, just closed on her new home and it seemed like the perfect excuse for a "cousins only" BBQ. Long story short, my Scottish cousin got hammered and it turns out she's hilarious. I don't know why I was surprised, my blood does run through her veins after all.
After good drinks and better conversation, my one buzzkill cousin decided to question our Scottish guest on why she says "cunt" so much. Wasn't exactly what we were prepared for from the Glasgow socialite. She apologized and told us that cunt didn't have the same zing on it like it does here. Then she explained to us the many uses of the word. For instance "the cuntin thing, or ah cunt, or instead of ma friends I say ma cunts, or calling a child a wee cunt".
That's when I chimed in with "Would you call your grandma a cunt?"
To which she replied, "Oh Gran? My favorite cunt."
All of us laughed except one, one scowled. When the giggles died out everyone's new favorite cousin got real serious. She said "You cunts don't say that word like we don't say 'fanny'."
Umm fuckin what now? What's wrong with fanny? We told her that's what children use sometimes instead of "butt". She scolded us for letting children use the word in the first place. I didn't have the heart to tell her it's not necessarily every day vocabulary. She was enjoying being disgusted with us revolting Americans.
Then she looked me dead in the eye and said "You wouldn't use that word with your Gran, would you?"
"I mean sure. Like if she was dizzy or something I could say 'Grandma sit back down on your fanny."
She started gagging and said "Good lord. Please doont say that in front of me ever again."
Language is a cruel mistress. Location means a lot. In Scotland "cunt" is a term of endearment while here in America it's grounds for termination. The more you know. I thought the trip was a resounding success. I even discussed plans to visit the old country. My darling mother once again, disagreed. I'm too tall and strong now for soap in the mouth, so she's banned me from her homeland.
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