I don't give a shit what kind of happilymarriedbeatleslovingstampcollecting uncle you have - my uncle wears shirts with holes, scratches himself at weird places and smells like goat cheese and I love him for that damnit. He's also bald except for the bit of fluffy hair behind his ears that he sometimes strokes when he tries to recall stuff and he has a dog named Bingo one of his girlfriends once left in his basement - my uncle only mentions the women in his life when he's drunk anyway and then he keeps stroking his hair cause he forgot their names. He talks about infinity and love and gives me small packages with white powder to hide from my mom. While we're watching naked women on TV he tells me about the inevitability of all things and I listen to him and admire him cause I love my uncle. He grins when my mom calls him a bastard, grins when he takes me on his lap to tell me about all the stupidity in this world, grins when he drops me on the floor, grins when he watches TV and grins when he passes out late at night. My uncle is weird and sick but most of all utterly cool.

I mean, he is full of those strange phrases that really don't make much sense but must have some hidden, deeper meaning. Sometimes I try to copy them to impress the kids in my class but it never sounds as good as when he says it. I once said 'all women are whores' during biology class but no one thought I was cool. Sally Jane called me an idiot but I don't care cause Sally Jane is stupid and wears ugly clothes. I called her a capitalist whore and she started to cry. Late at night I wrote down what my uncle had told me the sunday before and when my mom found my notebook under my pillow the next morning she smacked me in my face and I told her she was a bitch a stupid bitch just like Sally Jane and then she started crying too and she started shouting how much I sounded like my asshole-dad and I told her I was sorry and she hugged me and smacked me in my face again and then she said she was sorry sorry sorry and I said it was O.K. but it really wasn't and my face hurt.

Next sunday we'll go to my uncle again and then I'll sit on his lap and ask him what my future will look like in this bloody world and he'll grin and scratch himself and he'll just whisper the same god-damn words he has been whispering for 50 years now:

Smoking crack is kinda cool.

And he'll burp like a cannon and we'll crack ourselves up once again and I'll try to imitate his raspy voice smoking crack is kinda cool I'll say smoking crack is kinda cool

it's kinda fucking cool damnit!!!

and we'll laugh louder and louder till he'll drop me on the floor again.

And when the kids in my class call me names I just close my eyes and pretend to be as big as my uncle and when they throw food at me I just pretend it's my uncle spilling beer and when they beat me up I just think to myself that I'm dead.

'wish them assholes could all just be like my uncle.

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.