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My Uncle Vinny could ruin just about anything, including Christmas. I don’t know how he climbed up into our family tree but that branch needs to be pruned.
Every Christmas morning we wake up at 5 a.m. because we have excited children in the home who can’t wait just two more hours for me to get up and have my coffee at a decent time.
Last year started out with early morning company and a gift exchange with the ripping open of presents like we were all savages on a deserted island possessing no social graces.
My Uncle Vinny displayed his complete lack of class by wrapping his gift for my mother in an empty medical Cologuard box. For cryin’ out loud, who does that? For that moment in time, everyone had the same image burned into their head, and his outer Christmas wrap of tinfoil made no difference in softening that visual nightmare.
One of the gifts he wrapped for my son kept moving under the tree. When the gift was opened we realized the hungry present came with a lifetime commitment. Our lack of words led us to name the puppy, “Payback” – oh, and we will, the name won’t let us forget.
I don’t know why he was left unattended in the kitchen but he made an egg nog and booze mixture without letting anyone know. He then placed a punch bowl filled with the creamy beverage in the living room and left to go fishing in the backyard pond.
It wasn’t until kids started slurring their speech like little drunkards, that we realized there was a problem. At the hospital we received a court date from an awaiting officer for allowing underage drinking. The cop wanted no part of hearing any excuses. Because we owned the home we got the appointment with the judge, not my Uncle Vinny. We’re still paying that fine.
His other gifts for those who were present on Christmas morning last year included, a personal hygiene kit, an ugly sweater, a subscription to Motorcycle & Muffler Madness magazine and a 10-pound Reese’s peanut butter cup. My friend had just had arm surgery and was instructed not to lift more than five pounds for eight weeks. She re-injured herself lifting his stupid peanut butter cup.
The puppy he gifted my young son that morning dropped a pile on the living room floor, which was bad enough, but then the robot vacuum cleaner he gave us detached itself from the base and ran over it trying to clean the floor. It should have known that mess was not vacuumable, proving that AI may be just as dopey as my uncle.
I’m a bit terrified to have him over this Christmas but I can’t say no because he belongs to my sweet aunt and I want to see her. They come as a package ya know.
This year, I bought my uncle a large drone and had his full name and address painted across the top of it. It won’t be long before he gets in trouble with it, and there will be no question as to whom it belongs to and where it can be located. It will be worth the money.
I also gave the local booze store a photo of my uncle with instructions to call the cops if he shows up. After telling them what he did last year, they agreed. The officers can question him for a while.
With him busy for a bit, this Christmas may be a little less chaotic, at least for me. Merry Christmas! Anngee Quinones-Belian of Murphy is a staff correspondent for the Cherokee Scout. Her humor column runs every other week. Email her at anngeeq@gmail.com.