Mama's Herringbone Leisure Suit

As long as I can remember, Mama's Herringbone Leisure Suit hung on the coat rack in our kitchen.
She would comment on it's beauty and craftsmanship every time one of my schoolmates came over for dinner.

"Oh, did you notice my fine Herringbone Leisure Suit? Don't you just love the way it holds the light? It was made by some of London's finest tailors."
She would go on like this for what seemed like hours...

Nights when there were no dinner guests, she would tell me strange tales of the suit. She said it was the very same suit that she wore to her first Satanist Séance - and in that fine garment, she had slaughtered 33 baby pigs and eaten 12 live sparrows (this was customary at one's first séance back then). If you looked close enough, you could still see the dried pigs blood on the lapels of the jacket.

Mama's Herringbone Leisure Suit hung there as a reminder to all of us of her bygone glory days... long before the domesticated life she had come to know all too well.

Sometimes, when all the lights were out and I was tucked into bed, I would hear her prancing around the house, weeping as she twirled and spun in her tribal dance. Her shrill cries like the scratching of chalkboards. "Herringbooonnneeee..." I would hear her whisper at my door.
To this day I wake up and see visions of her dancing around that old house. I find comfort in these thoughts - and I wonder if maybe there is a little bit of Mama's Herringbone Leisure Suit in all of us.