These Secrets

I glance out of the window at the tiny trees, people, cars, and buildings I can barely see below me. My Aunt Dorothy is fast asleep next to me, and she's been like that since before the takeoff. Her white-blue hair- or what was left of it- was tangled up in a pair of rented earplugs. Yeah, rented earplugs.

  "Who rents earplugs?" I had asked. "You could just go to Wal-Mart and get some for like five bucks, and they wouldni't have other people's earwax on them!" And, to this, she had responded:

  "Five dollars is too much money for a pair of earplugs. I'm opnly going to use them this once. I don't want junky electrical beings in my home for the next fourty years!" Of course, the rented earplugs cost six dollars, and there was no way Aunt Dorothy was going to live another fourty years. Honestly, I don't know if she'll make it through this one. For like, the past ten years, Aunt Dorothy's health has been slowly declining. Apparently, her issues cost more than we had, because more than once I had heard of relatives planning to plant rat poison in her Caprisi salad and deal with the consequences. If you hear a bunch of thirty year olds who'd rather be locked up in jail than eat with your aunt three times a year, you know something's up. Nobody's ever told me anything, though, and with everyone in my family being so secretive, I feel like something's always up. Like, any minute now, I'm about to be Punk'd, and Ashton Kutcher is gonna jump out from behind a potted plant and be all, "You just got Punk'd!" Or whatever he says. But nothing ever happens.

  "What the heck? Something actually happened!" I had shouted when Aunt Dorothy drove me to the airport.

  "Quiet, boy," she had told me. "Don't draw attention to yourself. Fly under the radar.Speak to no one." And then, just as quick as she had came, Superspy Auntie had disappeared and Aunt Dorothy had gone back to hobbling around, speaking sweetly, and calling any male under fifty 'Sonny'.

  "May I see your tickets, ma'am?" A flight attendant asked.

  "What? Who's there?" Aunt Dorothy shrieked, suddenly waking up from her slumber. "Oh. An innocent stewardess. Here are my tickets, Young Missy." Stewardess? Young Missy? WHat the heck was up with the old bat?