Oh man, where to even begin. What was once a happy family with my husband, Chezz, and two wives, Lotty and Rylee, has devolved into a spaghetti junction of petty name calling and familial infighting in the past few weeks that makes the Kardashians look like the fucking Adam’s Family. 

It all started with a light discussion over Thanksgiving dinner. Usually this is something we do privately as we revere holidays involving stuffing oneself full of comfort food as sacrosanct, but this year we had some in-laws come over to help plan. This screamed disaster, not least because Chezz’s mom is a fucking gargoyle who likes to use canned mashed potatoes like the Soviets are still threatening to invade, and boy did things turn into a clusterfuck real quick (and not in the good way). Normally we can manage the quadrupling of family drama that plagues our relationship, but apparently when it comes to how to properly prepare the turkey everyone has one collective brain cell they fight over.

Lotty’s mom kept screaming about cooking it on a spit like we’re all a bunch of neanderthals, Rylee’s uncle was adamant that using anything other than a lemon and pepper baste would hurt his tastebuds, and for some reason Chezz’s little brother kept muttering about how it doesn’t matter how it’s cooked as long as he can batter-dip his corndog in it a couple of times before it gets served. It took four hours just to get through the main course discussion, and then I had to request an adjournment for an hour so we could formulate new game plans.

Problem is, everyone left during the break. Lotty and Rylee’s families said they were going to cook turkeys so desirable they’d make you want to liquidate your 401k and make sweet love to them in Ibiza, a statement that made Chezz’s little brother erect with desire and the rest of us recoil with disgust. I then had to escort my family out after my dad came to blows with Chezz over whether to use flaky or butter-brushed crescent rolls, leaving everything a mess. 

None of us have communicated since, aside from sending ominous messages over LinkedIn. Please help!

For context, we have a four way marriage contract that binds all of us in the holy matrimony of the lord, so there is usually 100% transparency with our emotional states. Recently, though, Chezz and I felt that Lotty and Rylee were spending a lot more intimate time together, ya know, knockin’ the clogs and whatnot, and we confronted them in a respectful manner about it. Whad’ya know, they say they want to leave the Four Fuckscateeers (our group marriage name) and elope together! And, to add insult to injury, they want to take Chezz with them!

I couldn’t believe it! Chezz backed me up in the moment, but in the days after I can feel his magnetic pull towards those two, dropping lascivious winks across the foyer like I wasn’t even there. Lord forgive me for what I did next, because Abby I know I should’ve been the bigger man, but to get back at them all I rekindled an old flame with Rylee’s best friend Sheela and we batter-dipped the corn dog so much over the weekend I’ve been waddling like a penguin for 4 days. Turns out Lotty had a similar idea and was gettin’ her donut glazed by my cousin at the same time behind Rylee’s back, so as you could imagine this didn’t go over with the others real well and now we’re stuck in a right rut. We’re not talking, sleeping in our double-king, or even sharing cereal anymore!

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