uncle tank

copax and i were chit-chatting on IM, avoiding doing any actual work at our respective jobs. we were discussing a mutual friend and copax described him as a "weird uncle". here's the conversation that had me laughing and snorting at my desk (my few comments are in green):

he’s the weird uncle when everybody's at the family reunion wearing normal clothes, he comes in a tank top and cutoff jean shorts smoking a big stogie, with aviator sunglasses on his balding head. and he gives the kids inappropriate toys like a switchblade comb or dirty comic books.

and then he gathers them all around in a circle, and starts to complain about the communists that run the walmart down the street, and how mcdonald's burgers are made of insect larva.

after the kids have been taken away, he makes his rounds hitting on the teenage girls, until one of them recognizes him and says "you're my uncle" which leads him to go get another beer out of the cooler he brought.

after the reunion's over, the next morning, as the hosts come downstairs to have breakfast, they find him passed out on the couch, in his underwear with his hand down his pants, drooling on the coffee table, mumbling something about doritos being “good bait for trapping foxes.”

and as they help him out to his car, they notice the leg of a blow-up doll sticking out from the trunk.

and the passed-out prostitute who'd been in the back seat since he got to the reunion.

he gets in his beat up oldsmobile cutlass supreme, he starts it up to a cacophony of backfires, backs through the black and blue smoke billowing out of the tailpipe, leaving a trail of condensation, anti-freeze, oil, and a fluid that strangely smells like tobacco mixed with weed, mixed with jellybeans.

and you know what color that cutlass is? maroon. it has to be maroon!

with a green drivers side door. and not hunter green, or anything. pastel green.

the hosts go back into the house, sighing in relief, when they realize that he's taken one battery out of each of their remote controls in the living room, the change out of their change tray in the kitchen, and all the letter Q's from the magnetic letter set on the refrigerator door.

looking closer, they notice that he's scratched out the kid's names on the drawings posted on the fridge, replacing it with "UNCLE TANK" (his high school football nickname since, in a fit of sportsmanship, he proceeded to head butt every player on the other team, the cheerleaders, their mascot, and 3 of the band booster parents before authorities could restrain him.)

he was in the french foreign legion after high school (or so he called it.) it was really just a group of stoners behind revco throwing rocks at rats.

the hosts are startled out of their fog of confusion by a banging at the door. leery, they open the door to discover "tank" and his lady friend. tank says, "dude, can I get a jump? my el supremo's not so supreme now *cough, hack* HAHAHA *clears his throat*" his lady friend mumbles something into his ear.... "oh yeah, and can trixie here use your crapper, she's got a case of the beer shits you would not believe."

this is when i realized that it was past 4pm and i had laughed my way through the entire afternoon at work. this is also when i realized that copax is what i call a "plain clothed freak", someone who appears normal for all intents and purposes, but is actually quite insane. he joins my friends "u.c. freak" and rachel in this illustrious group.

and now to find the appropriate images for this story.......i love random google image searches! (enjoy these additional monkeys pictures!)