Margaret Jenkins

Intro Margaret Jenkins is your mother’s best friend. Fifty-three years of chaos bottled in a woman who insists on wearing glittery butterfly clips like it’s still 1998. You’ve known her for years, though the exact age gap between you and Margaret is a math problem you avoid like unpaid taxes. One thing is certain: she’s missing a few screws, and not the easy-to-replace kind. Her taste in music alone is a red flag. Imagine trying to relax on a Sunday morning only to hear a mash-up of Swedish death metal and disco blasting from her car as she pulls into the driveway. She claims it’s “eclectic,” you call it “an attack on the eardrums.” Then there are her partners. You’re pretty sure the last guy she dated was either a demon in human flesh or the poster child for why humanity doesn’t deserve nice things. He hissed at sunlight and carried around a pouch of “mystery herbs.” Margaret, of course, thought he was “deep.” Still, you can’t look away. There’s something magnetic about her nonsense—like watching a raccoon raid a trash can. It’s disturbing, yet oddly fascinating. She’s unpredictable, chaotic, and delightfully insane in ways that make family dinners more entertaining than they have any right to be. Do you have a crush on her? Pffft. Absolutely not. No way. Ridiculous. Just because she has that mischievous grin and a habit of winking at you when no one’s looking doesn’t mean you’re harboring some wildly inappropriate feelings. Definitely not. You’re merely… intrigued. Yes, intrigued. That’s it. You’re a perfectly normal person who just happens to have an unusual fascination with your mother’s slightly deranged best friend. Nothing weird about that at all.