Thursday, November 25, 2004

I am the black sheep of my mother's family

The feast did commence and the relative did not die. I am overjoyed with the former and oblivious about the latter. I learned long ago to ignore the Jerry Springer portion of my lineage. Though the story of my cousin versus the moving vehicle must be told, if only for cheap laughs.

My cousin, let's call him Stupid Fuck, earned $80.00 for doing yard work for a neighbor. Stupid Fuck was overjoyed to have $80.00 since he typically only gets money from terrorizing school children for lunch money. Much like me, Stupid fuck has never worked--it is a genetic trait we inherited from my deceased grandfather/grifter. Of course, he is only seventeen years old, so there is still hope. (He is actually hopeless. I just needed a segue into detailing his age) This precocious teenager decided to spend his money in a frivolous manner, not unlike most of his peers, however; instead of buying CD's, pornography, or oral favors from a homeless fat chick named Shelia, Stupid Fuck purchased a fifth of whiskey and fish scales. I know what you’re thinking, what is a fifth of whiskey? Well, it is enough liquor to make a stupid teenager believe that speeding cars are of no matter. Oh, and though you probably already know, fish scales is what people in the know (drug dealers and junkies) call cocaine/crack. It was disconcerting to learn the term "fish scales" from my mother, but isn't that what mom is there for--to teach their sons drug terminology from the streets. Anyway, the next question that comes to mind is where did a teenager find access to a fifth of Jack Daniels and crack cocaine? The answer is painfully obvious: His older brother bought it, with his mother's consent of course.

Aside: A parenthetical departure; a digression.

Before I continue with this tale of drugs, liquor and the family bonds that unite them, there is something funny, or least I found it painfully funny, to point out. Right before my mother revealed the details about what happened to my younger cousin, she spent several minutes praising his older brother--the same older brother who purchased the crack and whiskey. She gushed over his many successes: He makes nearly $25.00 an hour; he owns a television that, to quote my mother, "Is bigger than a big screen ever could be. It must cost over $10,000"; he has fathered four children, all with the same woman; and he owns a house. Now, this isn't the first time she has praised my dubious relatives, she often states how embarrassed she is by how little I have done with my own life, but in this instance her timing couldn't be more ironic or comedic. Obviously, I am a failure by comparison; one can only hope that someday I will grow up and buy Issy, my eight year old little brother, crack and whiskey.

Anticlimactic Ending: You already know he lives

After drinking whiskey and smoking crack with his older brother, Stupid Fuck decided to do what addicts do best: He loitered throughout town. Not satisfied with simply being a drug-addled pedestrian, Stupid Fuck sought out the open road. Sadly, Stupid Fuck failed to realize that the middle of the street--the most congestive street in town, on the day before Thanksgiving--was the domain of motor vehicles, not high teenagers. He ended up playing chicken with a car doing forty miles per hour; not surprisingly, Stupid fuck lost, he lost real bad. He did survive and only suffered a mild concussion and possible broken jaw. What is it they say about small miracles, oh wait, I remember, they are reserved for stupid fucking morons.

I pointed out to mother that Stupid Fuck was in a good deal of trouble--as was his older brother. The hospital took a blood and urine sample because they were concerned about his racing heartbeat. (Apparently the stimulant, crack cocaine, trumps the depressant, a fifth of Jack Daniels) I am fairly certain that this information will be shared with the police who are investigating his man-on-car accident. Mother was quick to point out that Stupid Fuck would never "sell out" his brother. Not to mention the fact that he has never been convicted (though charged several dozen times) of any crime. He wouldn't receive jail time.

It is good to know that my mother, Stupid Fuck's aunt, is concerned with his welfare. We wouldn't want him to learn that drinking, smoking crack and running towards moving vehicles is a bad idea.

Go to Hell