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4:32 a.m. - 2003-11-18


Today, the horror ends.

Grandpa and his wife are leaving for Atlanta sometime this morning.

I am physically and emotionally drained.

And fake-smile drained. I couldn't muster up one more fake smile if my life depended on it. I just wanna scowl for several days to get my facial muscles back in order.

Last night I picked up Andrew on the way home even though I wasn't supposed to because I wanted to put off the inevitable as long as possible.

We got home at 6 p.m. and were greeted by all the in-laws lounging throughout the house.

Susie wasn't home yet.

I just have a problem with coming home after a long, stressful day at work and having to just jump right into corny hillbilly mode for the eight people scattered throughout my house.

"Hey Uncle Bob! How do you work the DVD player?"

"Hey Uncle Bob! Can we eat the rest of this ice cream?"

"Hey Uncle Bob! Why did the chicken cross the road? Get this ... TO GET TO THE OTHER SIDE!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!"

Oh my goodness.

You people are rich, I say...RICH!!

Naturally, they're all hungry because they're gluttonous pigs from hell and the question of what Uncle Bob is going to fix for them to eat comes up.

Sorry guys. I spent my $161 to feed you folks yesterday. My grocery budget is spent for the next two weeks.

The one brother-in-law that I halfway like decides that he has an idea.

"I'll take care of dinner tonight!" he says, chest puffed out proudly.

I figure he's going to my kitchen to make Baking Soda Soup or something equally appealing.

Instead, he gets in his car and leaves for the grocery store to get some grub.

Now ... I know this guy. He can not do ANYTHING quickly. If he's going to the grocery store, he's going to be gone for at least two hours as he taps every melon and judges its hollowness or whatever the hell reason you tap melons for.

So it's going to be 8:30 or 9 before he gets back. Then he's got to cook whatever it is he bought. It'll be 10:30 or 11:00 before we eat. I'm telling you ... the man is slower than a three-legged turtle.

Color me shocked when the bitch gets back at 7:30.

...With a bucket of KFC under his arm.

Now I have no idea what my brother-in-law does with the money he makes.

He makes more than me. That much I know. Considerably more than me.

His wife works.

They have three kids whose wardrobe consists of free t-shirts that they get from various church functions.

They've lived in the same condemned house in the shittiest neighborhoods in the city for close to 20 years.

They own every "Ernest" movie known to man. If the house were to ever go up in flames, the "Ernest" collection is the first thing to be saved.

Then, as soon as the fire trucks show up, instruct the firemen that there's still three kids inside being burned alive while they hold and caress these precious comedy gems.

Anyway, the guy should have money.

So he buys a 12 piece bucket of chicken for 11 people.

With four sides and six biscuits.

We are fucking SHARING pieces of chicken with one another.

Breaking wings in half.

The real kicker is ... the brother-in-law who went and got the chicken gets first in line ... and immediately grabs TWO chicken breasts and a leg and puts them on his plate.

And nobody says a fucking word about it. He's a glutton. And apparently a glutton who failed simple mathematics.

He sets the standard. His wife grabs a leg and a thigh.

Pervy snags a breast and two legs.

It's like he went to get dinner for HIS family and the rest of us could eat shit for all he cared.

I finally got a bit bold which was due more to my irritation with the situation than anything else.

"Well, we still have a few chicken breasts and ribs left over from last night," I said. "Who wants some of that?"

"Ooooo...I want some of those ribs!" my sister-in-law with two pieces of KFC on her plate squeals.

She doesn't offer the KFC to anyone else. She wants ribs along WITH her KFC.

As it turned out ... the KFC fed five of the 11 people. Our leftovers fed the rest of the family.

I then faked a migraine and went to bed at 8:00.

Which conveniently removed me from the hugging line at the end of the night.

That's called "the dark cloud's silver lining".

(For the record ... no big Pervy news. He stayed pretty far away from me the entire weekend/Monday. For the most part, he played Gin Rummy with his step-grandma the entire time. When he wasn't shoveling food in his big yap.)

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