I don't give a shit what kind of happilymarriedbeatleslovingstampcollecting
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
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 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
but most of all
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
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.