In writing about the adventures of obnoxious great-uncles, here’s a gem about Uncle Pester (recall, the one who picked a fight with me at the casket).
He’s got a daughter who’s a little older than me who loves him to death. Fought for him when he was getting shoddy medical care (went into the hospital with the flu and had to have open-heart surgery due to all his misadventures there). It kills me that he came through all this and is still an evil asshole and my sweet grandfather didn’t fare so well.
Uncle Pester’s daughter came home from work two hours early on the day of my grandfather’s viewing. Pester happened to call her and get her on the phone, and he asked what she was doing home so early. She’d replied, “I came home two hours early to get pretty.”
His answer? “Then you should have come home last week.”
Seriously. This is what I’m related to. *kick*
My cousin loved my grandfather — like a dad, as did practically everyone in the family.
And we wonder why I say the wrong one was in that coffin. …