Hey, kid. That's right, you. Come over here. Do me a favor— see that bucket of ice? Yeah? Well, bring it over to me. Thanks kid.
You ever tasted whiskey? Oh, you haven't? Well, here take a sip.
Ha! Has a bite to it, don't it? This stuff will put hair and your chest. Here, take a swig of water. That'll wash it down.
Tell me, kid. Your Mom still upstairs squawking with my old lady? Squawk, squawk, squawk. What are they talking about—how bad their husbands are? Yeah, I thought so. That's why I stay down here. I'd rather listen to the static on the shortwave radio than listen to the static in the kitchen.
These broads will drive you crazy if you let 'em. I don't let 'em. I spend most of my time down here in the garage alone here with my friend Jack. That's Mr. Daniels to you, son.
Kid, by the way, don't tell your mother I let you taste whisky, OK? Capiche? Good, good.
Billy, when you get a little bit older, you're going to want to meet a lot of girls. And that's ok, son. Have some fun while you can. I married your Aunt Nancy when I was 19. Got hitched a church in San Diego that had a neon sign. Place call the Four Square Church. Got hitched and went right into the Navy. Too young.
She was my brother's sister. We met while he was courting her. What are the odds that man is going to fall for the sister of his brother's girl? Not as bad as you'd think.
Son, believe it or not, broads are like janitors. They carry with them a lot of keys but for some reason they never seem to have to key to every door. There's always one room or another they can't open. This is just a fact of life. And there's nothing wrong with it. Nothing wrong with it at all.
Kid, you're going to meet a lot of women in your life. Make sure you sow some wild oats. But after you've broken a few hearts, just pick one. Don't be in a hurry and don't wait too long. Just pick one and be done with it. At some level, they're all the same.
Son, I bet your Mom is wondering where you went to. Come here. Take another swig of water. Make sure she can't smell that whisky on your breath.
And kid— do me a favor? Please shut the door on your way out.
That's either an animal or a bad toupee on his head.
ReplyDeleteDon't say bad things about this guy who I'm pretending it my uncle.
ReplyDeleteHow funny!
ReplyDeleteI'm confused.
ReplyDeleteI don't know if this is a true story or not, but either way it made me sad...
ReplyDeleteKamuel,
ReplyDeleteIt's mostly not true. I just did a Google image search for "1970s" and "uncle."
Ms. Proofreader-- One thing that seems fun to me is taking old pictures and re-imagining them. So that's all I'm doing.
ReplyDeleteAh yes, the days when (almost all) older gents used the word "broads" without irony and no one really thought twice about giving kids sips from their "beverages." We used to get sips of strawberry daiquiris!
ReplyDeleteOh boy, what's Uncle Carls gonna do behind that closed door?
ReplyDeleteI really like the idea of writing a narrative from some random person's picture. I'm going to have to try that!