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I smiled meekly. I was pondering what I should do about my food situation – or lack thereof – when I heard a yell from below.

“Give me a B!” a cheerleader somewhere down on the sidelines yelled.

“B,” the crowd roared.

“Give me an A!” she yelled again.

“A,” the crowd responded.

“Give me a T!” came the cheerleader’s cry.

“T,” the crowd replied.

“Give me an apostrophe!” the cheerleader demanded.

“Apostrophe,” the crowd yelled.

“Give me an S!” came the cheerleader’s yell.

I, however, was quick to jump in to put an end to this travesty.

“No!” I shouted defiantly.

There was silence.

“I said, give me an S!” came the yell again from somewhere down below.

“No!” I shouted again. I was feeling a bit obstreperous and considerably annoyed.

“Why not?” shouted the cheerleader, emerging from the crowd.

I blinked twice. I removed my glasses, breathed on them, wiped them with a tissue, and put them back on my face. It didn’t help.

There, right there in front of me, in a cheerleader dress with two pom poms, stood Aunt Ruth.

At the moment I saw her, she saw me.

A sly smile formed on her countenance.

“Oh no,” I thought to myself.

“Oh yes,” I imagined her thinking.

“Give me an N!” she began.

“N,” the crowd responded.

“Give me an A!” she continued.

“A,” the crowd obediently echoed.

And she continued with many more letters until she completed her phrase.

“What does that spell?” she yelled.

“Nauseating Nephew,” the crowd gleefully roared.

“What?” she screamed.

“Nauseating Nephew!” the crowd shouted, even louder.

“One more time!” she commanded.

“Nauseating Nephew!” the crowd exploded.

She then marched up to my row in a rather pompous and grandiose fashion.

“Hey Nitwit Nephew, what’s eating you?”

“Aunt Ruth, you spelled BAT’S with an apostrophe.”

“So? Since when did someone say that you could declare apostrophes to be illegal?”

“They’re not illegal. But you don’t use apostrophes to turn a singular noun into a plural noun.”

“What do you mean?’ she asked.

“One flying mouse is a bat; two are bats. There is no apostrophe in that plural word.”

“I see it all the time,” she argued.

“Aunt Ruth, it’s gross. It’s just wrong, plain wrong. I have two dogs. I saw three flies. I ate two cows. I found six …”

“You ate two cows?” she asked incredulously.

“That’s just an example,” I countered.

“Well, I don’t know … I mean, after you ate seven hot dogs, I’d think that …”

“Aunt Ruth, listen. Some words you add an ’s’ to if you want it to be plural. Sometimes you add ‘es,’ and sometimes you may do something like change a ‘y’ to ‘i’ and add ‘es.’ But never ever do you add an apostrophe because you want a plural.”

“But what about this: I ate the dog’s food.”

“That’s not plural then,” I said. “That’s possessive. You have a dog. You ate his food. You ate the dog’s food.”

“My dog is Fifi,” she defiantly stated.

“What?”

“Fifi. It’s a she. You said I ate his food. I didn’t. I ate her food.”

“Whatever,” I sighed.

“I have two cats. What do I do about that?” she asked.

“Make a fur coat?” I suggested with a smug smile.

WHAM!

I hadn’t noticed that she had an umbrella in one hand.

My head was still spinning from that blow.

“Uh, sorry,” I apologized. “Two cats? You would say, ‘I ate my cats’ food.’ Put the apostrophe after cats.”

“Oh I see!” she exclaimed.

“You do?” I asked.

“Well, not really, but the game is starting.”

“Just remember this: apostrophes are for possessives and contractions.”

“Contractions? Like when you’re in heavy labor and the baby’s arrival is imminent?”

“Say good night, Aunt Ruth.”

“Good night, Aunt Ruth.”

And she bounded back down the steps in a series of hand springs that ended in a split on the fifty yard line.

The crowd was roaring, “Aunt … Ruth … Aunt … Ruth … Aunt … Ruth,” as I made my way back to the hot dog lady. I was still hungry.