Nowadays, it seems like everywhere you turn, you can’t help but read something new and terrible about the ever-growing anti-vaxxer movement… Mumps? Measles? Rubella? All these diseases are back folks, and the only reason why is because a group of selfish (and woefully misinformed) parents simply refuse to vaccinate their children.

And, look, I get it. Obviously, the anti-vaxxer movement is one of the vilest social trends out there. Putting your child’s life at risk like that? Talk about morally irredeemable.

But do you know what's even worse than anti-vaxxers?

Yeah. That’s right. My Aunty Vaxxers—my terrifying, needle-wielding aunt who breaks into my bedroom each and every night, and holds me down, and then gives me thousands upon thousands of vaccines every time that I'm sleeping.

Seriously folks, I know the anti-vaxxer movement is bad and all (trust me: no one hates Jenny McCarthy more than I do). But let me tell you, my Aunty Vaxxers… She freaking suuuuucks!

Here, I'll explain: see, it's silly, but for my entire childhood, I honestly had no idea that Aunty Vaxxers even existed. At least, that is, until last weekend, when my mom announced that her sister, Constance Vaxxers, would be spending a few weeks at our place.

Well, as you can imagine, I thought this was pretty weird. So I said “Ha. Mom, what are you talking about? You’re an only child, aren’t you?”

Then I chuckled at how goofy she was being.

My mom just stared at me, and I got a little quieter.

“No. I have a sister, Daniel. And you will treat her with respect,” replied my mother icily, her usually-warm eyes turning cold and foreboding.

I laughed and said “What?”

And then my mom said, “Be quiet, and do as you're told, Daniel.”

And then the door burst open, and in walked my Aunty Vaxxers.

And, boy oh boy, was she spooky!

Seriously, I’m talking spooky, people! Like, do you know what those nurses in the American Civil War looked like? You know, the ones who treated gangrene and stuff… here’s a picture, for context.

Anyways, Aunty Vaxxers looked a biiiit like this, but her skin was withered and grey, and her nurse’s smock was ripped and disheveled and covered in a thin, oily layer of centuries-old dust. And her hands were palsied and covered in scars. And her eyes were milky and white. Like a blind man’s eyes.

And, as soon as she walked into our house, she stared directly at my mother and whispered: “Hello sister, has the boy had his vaccines yet? I will vaccinate him. I will vaccinate the boy. The boy needs his VACCINES!!!”

Oooof.

Talk about freaky, folks!

I mean, seriously, I know that people are mad at the anti-vaxxer movement right now and all… But, if they really wanted to fight evil, then they should fight my Aunty Vaxxers.

Because’s she’s way, way worse.

Like five times worse—at least!

Anyhow, as you can imagine, dinner was pretty awkward that night. See, it turns out my Aunty Vaxxers isn’t that much of conversationalist. And so, the whole freaking night, I kept trying to engage her in polite, dignified chit-chat, to see where she was from, and if she was married (you know, regular stuff like that).

But, whenever I tried to talk to her, she would just look away and mutter in a weird, croaky voice something sinister like:

“The boy must be clean. Clean. Clean. I must cleanse him. I must cleanse the boy with my vaccines. The vaccines will give the boy strength. I must make the boy stronger. He is weak. Weak and unclean. The needles will pump the medicine into the boy. I will give him the needle. The vaccines will purify him. Purify the boy—”

And she just wouldn’t shut up! Talk about rude, huh?

But the worst part was, as soon as I went to bed, I could tell that my Aunty Vaxxers had followed me upstairs to my bedroom (which was really weird, because the guest bedroom was all the way downstairs in the basement…). And, even worse, every time I asked her if she needed help finding her room, she would just scratch at the door with her grimy fingernails, jiggle the knob, and then whisper:

“Vaccines.”

“Vaccines.”

“Vaccines.”

“Vaccines.”

“Vaccines.”

“Vaccines.”

“Vaccines.”

“Vaccines.”

“Vaccines.”

“Vaccines.”

“The boy must be cleansed.”

“Vaccines.”

“Vaccines.”

“Vaccines—”

And she kept doing this for hours until I fell asleep to the sound of her whispering.

Or, at least, I fell asleep until about three AM, when I was abruptly woken up by the creaking of my bedroom door. And when I looked up, I was shocked to see a withered, decrepit face inching its way into the bedroom, its sightless, milky-white eyes gleaming in the shadows.

“Aunty Vaxxers, is that you? What are you—” I muttered sleepily.

But then, before I could even finish, Aunty Vaxxers sprinted into the room (which was pretty surprising, given that she looked like she was at least 150 years old. Talk about doing her calisthenics, amiright?).

Then she pinned me onto the bed, leaned down next to my ear, and whispered in a cruel and ancient voice: “Quiet, boy. Quiet. Go back to sleep. Your dirty eyes are not yet clean enough to witness the Ceremony of Inoculation. So drift off to dreamland, child. And when you wake up, you will be clean. Clean and vaccinated.”

And then she put a damp rag over my mouth and I fell back to sleep immediately… I mean, seriously folks, say what you will about the anti-vaxxer movement, but at the very least they’ve never done anything thaaaat bad! Honestly, the stuff they’re doing is only, like, 80% as bad as my Aunty Vaxxers—maybe a little less, even!

Well, in any case, I guess there must have been something on my Aunty’s rag, because, after that, I fell asleep for the next 13 hours. And when I woke up, I was shocked to discover that my arms were now covered in thousands upon thousands of tiny needle-marks—places where, I can only assume, my Aunty injected thousands upon thousands of vaccines into me…

Then I looked up at my doorway, and saw that Aunty Vaxxers was standing right there. Staring at me. And smiling.

And she asked me how I felt.

And I said that I felt tired.

And then Aunty Vaxxers frowned and said: “No. No. NO! That means that you are still unclean, boy. I shall try again tomorrow. Soon… soon you shall be consecrated.”

And then she walked away, and I spent the rest of the day shaking uncontrollably beneath the covers of my blanket.

Anyways, I’ll wrap things up right now, because I don’t want to bore you all with more stories about my kooky family… Especially because this whole thing is such a non-issue! I mean, what am I even complaining about? That I’m getting too many vaccines? Ha. I mean, even a total idiot knows that kids should get vaccinated (despite what Jenny McCarthy and her misguided anti-vaccine movement might say about that).

But, I just wanted to get this off my chest and see if anyone out there had any suggestions. Because this has been going on for the past nine days now, and my arms are starting to get reaaal tired from all of these vaccinations. Hell, my entire body is getting pretty tired!

Oops! Looks like I’ve got to stop writing right now; I think I hear my Aunty coming back up the stairs, which means that the Ceremony is about to begin again. See ya, guys! If I don’t write again, it means that this time she finally purified me for good!

So long, everybody!


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