Don’t You Come ‘Round Here No More!

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Nothing like listening to your one of many drunk uncles mumble a bunch of gibberish in your ear to kill your thoughts of enjoying Henny and coke later in the evening.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen Ray…and I would never try to. Out of all of the uncles on my dad’s side, he’s one of the least tolerable. That my friends is no easy feat to achieve when you have uncles that have tried to set their own wives on fire. I have nothing against him; I just don’t expect to converse with him anytime soon unless a gun is behind my head. I hadn’t realize how irritating he really was until today.

This is pretty much how our conversation went. What’s not in quotations is what I really wanted to say.

“Yes, Uncle Ray, you do look like Tony Parker.”

Too bad the only thing you’re shooting up doesn’t resemble a basketball.

“Haha @ him giving you a loan.”

Now get your broke ass on somewhere – your bad luck with money may trickle down to me…and I don’t need anymore pressure.

“Ha. Those young girls think I’m like 25/26, not ole 33.”

Stay.The.Fuck.Away.From.Young.Girls.You.Nasty.Bastard. You were this close to catching a case the last time.

“Yeah, man, it is a tragedy how they treat the women in Iraq.”

It will be an even greater tragedy for you if you don’t get the fuck from behind me.

“That’s cool you do the journalism thang, man. Gotta keep up with the news.”

N—–no I stopped using that word— if you don’t get the hell away from me.

“If I hadn’t gotten into those Bud’s and Bull’s, I would have been better off.”

True. I have something to admit, too: I would have been better off if I kept my ass in my room.

“The boy will do better, though.”

God willing. Now please go back to South Park.

After he leaves, my dad slithers his way near me to say, “Boy he damn sholl do talk fast. I was looking at you like, ‘Mike just saying uh huh, he don’t understand that n…..'”

I’m thinking, “You’re one to talk. Whenever I talk to you, I feel as if I’m holding a conversation with Hurricane Andrew.” Neither can help it: That’s just how many a folk with kin in Lousiania speak. Myself included at times.

Ray is gone. Thank God and all ‘nem above. Now I just have to deal with my pops, who I think is selling weed…again (I’ve learned that he did it when my older sister was a child). Deep sigh. More on that later, though. I have to get out of this bitch, pronto.

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