Andabate, andanine, andaten, and eleven!

[Jean-Joseph Cote]

> You're thinking of your Aunt Agnatha.  She's a hagfish, isn't she?

And here I was expecting lamprey jokes.

Y'know, I really did have an Aunt Agatha.  Well, no, not really.  She was
the second wife of Uncle Bud (nobody ever called him Ernest), who was
something like my father's first cousin once removed (I think).  (That's
right, we are talking about my father's side of the family.)  Except
nobody's really sure whether Bud and Agatha ever got married.  Not that
it matters.  She was still Aunt Agatha to me.  She was actually born in a
cotton field in Alabama.  And she was a fantastic cook.  Uncle Bud took
me to the only two major league baseball games I ever saw, at Shea
Stadium -- he had season's tickets to the Mets.  One of the games was
against the Giants, and the crowed booed every player on the team as they
were announced, except Willie Mays, who got big cheers.  Uncle Bud told
me that he fell out of a third story wondow in NYC once, and got up,
apparently unhurt.  But when he walked back into the building and stepped
into the elevator, he found that he couldn't press the buttons, because
he had broken both arms in multiple places.

Jean-Joseph