My Uncle George, now there’s another one. This guy: what a worthless piece of crap. He’d come around, always tryin’ to soak pops for money, eat a free spaghetti dinner, cop nights on the couch when whatever stripper he was working finally came to her senses and kicked him out.
Holidays, he’d come around with this brown paper grocery bag full of ‘presents’. It’d be stuff you get for twenty-five cents at the drugstore or free with a happy meal. He’d play it like Moses coming down from the mountain.
He taught me to drive, though. I was almost twelve.
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Title by: superduperjes
Story by: David
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