#SONIC BABYSITS CREAM FULL VERSION PART3 TV#

All she needed to do was raise her eyebrows when I'd come home from a sleepover at my own cousin's house. Mom slammed the door in his face, and didn't speak to anyone in the family for weeks.īut Mom didn't need to divulge details of that night in her cousin's bed to drive her 'uncles are not to be trusted' message into my brain. My own uncle-Mom's little brother-had just knocked on our front door, imploring her to attend. Mom never forgave her for that, she told me the day after her uncle died, explaining why she'd refused to go to the funeral. Her mother-my grandmother-sent her back to sleep over at the cousin's house many more times. Mom did tell us that she ratted him out to her own mother, who slapped her and told her not to repeat the story. Mom never told us what happened under the sheets, or if he tried anything the next time she slept over. It seemed to work, and though we never, ever discussed the plan again, we kept it up annually.

or so, reflecting on the gaffes Chuck committed this year.

#SONIC BABYSITS CREAM FULL VERSION PART3 TV#

Then we all padded back into the living room, turned the lights back on, and watched TV until 11:00 p.m. After my father had turned out the lights, Chuck felt awkward enough that he left. sharp, we all retired to our bedrooms and put on pajamas, pretending that it was our bedtime. I remember my mother explaining the new plan to me, on a bright Thanksgiving morning when I was 5, and I remember Operation: Get Rid of Chuck kicking into action: at 8:00 p.m. The football games would go on and on, and there Chuck would sit, beer in hand, irritating everyone, refusing to leave. He would drink beer after beer, trying to egg my father on in matters of politics and religion. Thanksgiving always seemed like the biggest holiday for Uncle Chuck: He would sit on our couch, which my mother would cover with a clean bed sheet before he arrived in order to save the furniture from his ripe and, at times, fungal smell.

A confirmed bachelor, Chuck haunted our family holidays like a ghost wrapped in a foul-smelling, beige cloth. My father's brother, Uncle Chuck, was a man apart: apart from hygiene, apart from manners, apart from any social life outside of his addiction to dog-track racing and the creepy world of the United States Postal Service, where he worked.

Sonic babysits cream full version part3