A work of fiction.
It was that time of the month again, and I was painting the roses red when Aunt Flo showed up, riding a cotton pony, tugging on the rag she had received when dishonorably discharged from the Uterine Navy, for riding the crimson wave.
She swung open the door and announced, "Miss Scarlett has come home to Tara! Steep some tea sweetheart and lets sit down for some Ladies Time." That meant giving into the curse of listening to all the tales of Aunt Flo's world travels.
In Europe, she had stayed in Germany with friends who called her cranberry woman. She wouldn't go to Denmark because the tomato soup was over cooked, but she loved going to England, even though her hotel always seemed to have a Japanses flag flying. Ireland, she said served the best jam rag, whatever that is.
She complains that when in South Africa, granny is stuck in traffic all day, but in Australia they let her put out the flag.
She hadn't ever planned to go to Australia, but she was in China when litte sister came by with her friend little Miss Strawberry from Japan and they talked her into going to a Red Party at Club Mensis during moon time. They got very drunk and thought it would be a good idea to go trolling for vampires in some place warm like the down under.
By the end of Aunt Flo's visit I was crying the tears of disappointed uterus. She took one look at me, patted my knee and said, "deary, go reboot your system, I'm only gonna be here for a short period."