Happy Labor DAy!

This is Irv --

Our Family Labor Day Barbecue "party" is still going on.

Uncle Vick is lying face down on the collapsed condiment tray. He's breathing. We can see mustard rising and falling on his shoulders.

Keep typing, Kwan.

I'm holding the twelve-gauge shotgun, pointed at my two "aunts," while the new social worker, Cynthia, runs around in circles on the backyard lawn, freaking out and screaming.

The neighbor's pit bull nextdoor is too frightened to bark.

I punched Uncle Vick in the face fifteen minutes ago. He's still unconscious. Vodka and a fist to the jaw will do that.

Keep typing, Kwan.

Kwan had shown up early to the barbecue to warn me that Vick was going to do to me what was done to his parents last Thanksgiving.

We had three beers each and I told her I'm fed up with being bullied and threatened.

Around 9, Vick had finished his fourth chicken wienie (he hates ostrich), when he stood up and announced to everyone that I had killed his parents last Thanksgiving. That his mother had shot my fingers off in self-defense.

My fingers itched.

I said, "I'm not the one that came flying out of the garage using the 'German baking knife' like we were at Benihana!" I told him, "You deny people their health care for a living. I know for a fact you don't have any sisters. All your mother said last Thanksgiving was that she had gone through your room."

My two "aunts" jumped up.

Cynthia, the new social worker, used some kind of social worker technique and told us all to breathe deeply and think of the ocean.

I pointed to the corner of the yard and told Cynthia that's where Vick had buried the previous social worker.

"And the police believed it was a plane crash..." I added.

That's when Cynthia started flapping her arms and screaming.

Uncle Vick grabbed Kwan.

I punched Vick in the face. He fell flat onto the condiment tray and sent relish into the trees.

Keep typing, Kwan. Look how scared those "aunts" of mine are!

We're taking my car and the twelve gauge and we're leaving here for good. Just you and I. Right now. Before Vick's brother gets here. If he really has a brother.

Happy Labor Day!
Irv