Table Talk

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I really hate family get-togethers. If it were up to me I would never see half the lunatic that bear the same last name. I knew my mother was up to something when she borrowed the wolverine mobile as my younger brother Clarence called it, the neighbor’s blue and gold conversion van. Our neighbors were the biggest Michigan fans to have never been to Michigan, that I know of, I’m still trying to figure that one out. The first time I saw the van, I thought that’s a cold ass paint job, with the giant “M” and wolverine on both sides covering the entire back half of the van, but I thought the gold wolverine fur seats were a little over the top and my baby brother Thomas always got a rash from sitting on them. My mom told us to pack enough clothes for three days at Auntie Mattie Pearl’s house.2

A weekend at Mattie pearl’s had some guarantees, such as, a drunken argument between family members, who are inseparable sober, but are swore enemies once they get on the sauce, a secret being revealed from a minimum of ten years ago, or my personal favorite, who’s baby is it? When the whole family sat down, at the table, to eat dinner, my younger brother thought it would be entertaining to give an update on my sexual status. It sounded like he was talking in slow motion when he said, “Mom, you know Jermaine did it with a girl in your bed last week.” There was a multitude of reactions. Silence followed the loud crashing of silverware and plates, the choking sounds of the elderly, and the faint snickering of my younger brother. My uncle broke the silence with, “Boy it took you 14 years to get laid, congratulation”. He was the only positive voice in the mob. My mother just gave me “that look” I could tell she was embarrassed. It was going to be bad for me when we got home, but it would be even worst for my younger brother when I got him in a room alone. 3