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5:17 a.m. - 2003-01-14

UNCLE F'N BOB'S DAYCARE CENTER

Soooo...last night, I'm sitting in the den playing with Andrew and I hear a car honking in the driveway.

Pervy's here.

But you know what? Screw it.

I'm NOT getting up to let him in. These dumbasses now know the code to get in our house...so fine. They can use the code to get in.

So I sit there and just keep playing.

Then I hear a knock on the door leading in from the garage.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

But you know what? Screw it.

These jackoffs let themselves in whenever they want ... so fine. Bring it on. It may be in the 20s outside and in the 30s in the garage. But I'm NOT getting up to let them in.

"Helloooooooo?" comes the voice from the laundry room.

Ah. They figured it out.

Pervy, his younger brother Sissy Boy and their father The Human Doorknob all enter.

"Uncle Bob!" the Human Doorknob says. "How goes it?"

"I'm sick," I said in my newly acquired deep baritone complete with gutteral raspiness.

"Yeah," the Human Doorknob says because he's deaf as a dead possum and thinks I said "I couldn't be better, o wonderful brother-in-law!"

"Would you mind watching Sissy Boy tonight?" he asks. "He begged me all the way over here to skip his Bible Study and stay here to play with Andrew."

Alright.

I'm not running a fucking daycare center to take care of a couple of halfbreed perverted fuckwad freaks here.

This is my home. My kingdom. My castle.

I never fucking agreed to watch your tub o' shit perverted son in the first place. But at least...at the very fucking least...Pervy has slowly caught on to the fact that I don't want him here every Monday night and makes a minimum of sounds and movements while he's here each week.

But Sissy Boy's another story altogether.

Sissy Boy prances around the house, spouting his backward opinions on everything in the house and dragging out every single one of the over 3,000 toys that my son has into the den and then just LEAVES them there.

Picking up after himself???

What kind of concept is that? At home, they haven't cleaned house since the 80s. So why in the world should he be expected to put things back where he found them here?

I'll give Sissy Boy credit though...he is the ONE person outside of Susie and me that Andrew just LOVES to see.

Andrew's a totally different kid when Sissy Boy's here. He plays and squeals and just adores Sissy Boy.

So they're playing cars or something for about ten minutes. I'm somewhat happy because Andrew's out of my hair for the time being, Susie's on a conference call in the office and isn't around to monitor how badly I treat her nephews and Pervy has taken up residence on the sofa, perusing his printed-out list of Pokemon cards.

Anyway...the first ten minutes go by quickly before Sissy Boy is standing at my side.

"Uncle Bob," he says cautiously. "Can I play with your Play Station?"

Aha!!

The little sissy couldn't last 15 minutes without having to ask it.

Y'see...this kid's a fanatic about my Play Station. The thing basically sits and collects dust until Sissy Boy comes over and plays with it.

I knew he had a secret agenda as soon as The Human Doorknob said that he'd be leaving him in our care "to play with Andrew".

Yeah right.

That kid was jonesing for a Play Station fix big time. I could see it in his thickly bespectacled eyes.

"No Play Station tonight," I said firmly. "You told your dad that you wanted to stay here and play with Andrew and that's what you're going to do."

"But I've plaaaaaayed with Andrew already," he said.

...Like playing with my son is a fucking chore. "But I washed the dishes, took out the garbage and played with Andrew. Now I want to play Play Station."

"I don't care," I said. "No Play Station. If you're going to tell your Dad that you want to stay at my house and play with my son, that's what you're going to do. Had you told your Dad that you wanted to stay at my house to play Play Station, then you could play Play Station."

He pouted while my son...my baby...my precious little two year-old stood there with a little plastic ball in his hand, waiting for his best friend in the whole world ... the Sissy Boy ... to come back and play with him some more. My son was getting his first taste of being used.

So Sissy Boy grudgingly went back to playing with Andrew, but the level of enthusiasm that was evident in the first ten minutes of his stay was now zapped from the room. Now it was all "What Andrew? Yes, you have a car, Andrew. Go play with the car, Andrew."

The little sissy bastard child.

Granted ... these kids love to play with the Play Station because all they have at their ghetto house is my old Super Nintendo to play with. They don't even make games for Super Nintendo anymore. Hell, they don't even make Play Station games anymore, I don't think. I could be wrong. I don't buy them anymore, I know that.

And I would let them play with the Play Station if I knew that it wouldn't lead to any bickering and fighting. But AS SOON as the power is switched on, Pervy and Sissy Boy pull out their knives and start stabbing each other in the back, fighting over who gets to go first, who's played longer than the other, whose game is more boring, etc.

And don't think that it was only Sissy Boy getting on my nerves last night.

Pervy wanted to sit and droll on and on about..."Lord of the Rings".

For those of you new to the site, I have absolutely no use in my life for fantasy crap. I don't care for Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons, Renaissance Faires and anything else that requires you to get all dorkified in order to enjoy it. If I were 20 years younger, I would still be pounding the crap out of people who did bring this up to me.

But being the elder statesman that I am, I merely sigh/groan/moan and politely excuse myself from any conversation that brings this crap up.

So anyway, Pervy's sitting there telling me all about The Twin Towers and how it's the best movie ever made and that I have to see it because after the movie, when you're walking through the parking lot, there's a parade of people spitting on you and calling you a loser and throwing beer bottles at you. Which is so cool because it's just like when he steps foot off the school bus each morning in front of his school ... except it takes place at a theater and these people don't know just how overwhelmingly nerdy he is like the kids at school do.

I tell him that I don't go to the theater and I have no interest in seeing it.

He asks me if I've seen the first one..."Lord of the Rings: We've Got Dancing Elves In Here".

Nope. I have no interest in seeing it.

He informs me that his uncle, my fat, lazy, good-for-nothing, Coke-stealing, $1,500-owing brother-in-law has it on DVD.

That's funny. I didn't know my brother-in-law HAD a DVD player.

I'm informed that he bought one for Christmas.

Oh.

Well ain't that a kick in the ass.

The guy owes me $1,500 and has owed it to me for about five years. But he bought himself a DVD player for Christmas.

Hey...that's just fine, bro. You just take the money you owe me and forget about it. Spend it on midget porn and gay hookers and DVD players, you fuck.

.

.

.

.

Alright...I just had a long talk with the Mrs. after her morning walk all about her fantastic new financial opportunities hosting parties for her la-de-da new business venture.

So I need to finish this up.

I would have never pegged my wife for wanting to get involved with a hoity-toity ladies' business where she has to be all "Next is our fantastic new glass tray that would be perfect in a dining room setting".

She's fully planning on giving it 110%.

I'm fully planning on raising this boy myself.

Alright.

Enough bitching.

I haven't even started on how lousy I feel this morning.

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