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5:54 a.m. - 2007-01-19


I had to share this.

Remember Pervy? I haven't written about him since Jesus was a baby, so you may not remember him.

He's my nephew ... whenever he came to our house, he'd somehow manage to get on our computer and surf for porn because he couldn't do it at home.

Well ... Pervy's 18 now.

He graduated from High School and then tried to figure out what he wanted to do with his life.

Pervy's a large boy. Very quiet. Kind of ... intimidating looking unless you've known him since he was born and has seen him with bad haircuts and have yelled at him for using your computer to surf for porn.

But if you're a stranger and saw him for the first time, you'd think "Is this guy going to try and kill me?"

He's got a ticking time bomb look to him.

So Pervy went to one of the local community colleges here last September and ... I dunno. I guess he didn't like it or something because he no longer went there.

He wanted something bigger.

And he got it.

He got a job at "The Happiest Place On Earth".

For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about ... it's in Orlando Florida and a giant mouse runs around the place shaking everyone's hands.

Got it?

Now then ... the thought of this kid who looks like he's in extreme pain every time he smiles getting a job at the Happiest Place blah blah blah cracked me up to begin with.

My in-laws drove him to Orlando.

Takes over eight hours to get there.

And they did this on Sunday, January 7th.

Less than two weeks ago.

Yesterday, Susie got the call from her sister-in-law.

Pervy's been fired.

Today's January 19th.

He lasted a total of 10 days at the Happiest Place On Earth (If You Don't Count Pervy).

Why'd he get fired??

This is the story we're getting.

The kid carries a pocket knife with him everywhere.

I haven't done that since I was 9, but he still does it.

And ... Grandma packed a set of steak knives in his suitcase thinking she had done a good deed. The kid now had all the tools for a lovely steak dinner for six.

Or a bloody massacre in the Happiest Place's employee apartment complex place.

Apparently there is nowhere in the Official Rules For Living In The Happiest Place's Apartment Complex that says you cannot under any circumstances eat steak.

Or cut your steak.

But when Pervy stumbled across the steak knives, he was told by a nervous roommate that he was breaking a rule.

So he took a towel, wrapped the steak knives up in it, and stored the towel full o' knives in his locker at work, fully intending on sending the knives home as soon as he got his first paycheck.

Security got wind of this on Wednesday, confiscated the knives and Pervo was told that they would deal with him the next day.

The next day (yesterday ... hope I'm not confusing you with the timeline), he was told to pack his bags and get the fuck out of the Happiest Place On Earth, goddammit.

Pervy ... who needs an act of congress in order to utter a single syllable because he's a sullen teen ... silently left without giving his side of the story.

He called home yesterday morning and said "Come get me, Dad".

So my brother-in-law had to go BACK to Orlando yet again yesterday (twice in 11 days) to pick him up and bring him home.

This story is so bizarre that I'm having trouble believing if it's true.

Like I explained to Suze ... the boy lost my trust years ago and has never done anything to gain it back.

I'm willing to bet the roommate saw him, saw the knives, thought "this guy looks like a terrorist" and called security on him.

I do NOT think he intended to do any harm to anybody. Don't even suggest it. The kid looks like a psycho, but being a psycho entails having a wee bit of initiative and Pervy doesn't have any.

So Pervy's on his way home this morning.

And I sooooo want to invite the family over for dinner.

For steaks.

YOU bring the knives, Pervy.

Today is mine and Susie's birthday.

I turn 45 today.

This week also starts my 8th year in Diaryland.

Holy freakin' cow.

How time flies when you have birthdays and shit.

My cousin Danny died of a massive heart attack on Monday.

He was 47.

Wasn't really out of shape ... gave up the smoking and cocaine years ago. Still drank like a fish from what I understand.

I hadn't seen him in over ten years and even then it was just for an hour or two.

People seemed to genuinely like the guy and I liked him when we were growing up as kids but the only connection we had now was the occasional Christmas card.

Still, it came as quite a shock.

He's the first cousin I've had that died that I know of.

I've got a lot of cousins on my Dad's side but I couldn't even name them all to you.

They could all be dead for all I know.

And standing in my front yard right now ... zombie cousins.

"Come join us, Bobby. Come join the undead."

Are zombies undead or is it just vampires?

Hell if I know.

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