Coffee House Stories 13  

Prompt: "The Remains"

by sloanranger

I guess reunions are stressful for any family. And for some families, using the current word – dysfunctional - they can be....well, just ...not... good.

Take my wife's brother, Uncle Jere' we call him. He's just got his leg monitor off and has cornered his two teenaged nieces. My own innocent, darling daughters, chaste as the driven snow, are snickering politely as their Uncle regales them with stories about a mythical three-legged monster. And Grandpa, titular head of the family and my own Dad, he's taking nips from a flask on the quarter hour and about to launch into war stories of Korean brothels. Things are not boding well.

Then there is my sweet bride, Penelope. Prim, politically correct, pure-of-heart-Penelope – a teetotaler if ever there was one. Yet last reunion, she got so high on the Riesling she serenaded the neighborhood for 20 minutes, ending the performance by mooning her friends peeping behind their curtains with a lilting version of, "Both Sides Now."  Dear, sweet, prepossessing Penelope.

What is left, the remains - is me - an only child and an even-minded chap, if I do say so myself. Every year, at dinner, after the festivities, I make it my business to go around the table and let each diner know exactly how much they've disappointed me the past twelve-month and make suggestions on how each could improve themselves.

Though meant with the best of intentions, they never seem take it very well. But this year -they came at me as one, pummeled me severely and tore my clothes half off before returning to their seats. All except Jere,' who just stood over me and stared, for quite some time.