My Uncle's Family - Chapter 2

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Topic: The Rest of the '90's


"Aaarrgghh…"

I’ve only been across the border about a week now, so my intestinal trat still hasn’t had time to adjust. All those little bacterial amoebic girardia hitch-hikers are having a field day with US haute cuisine, i.e. Taco Hell, Burger Kong and the like. When I’m on the road, though, and I get these friendly little visits (“hey boss, we’re still here!”) around three in the a.m., I scout a Denny’s and throw back about a gallon of coffee. Conventional wisdom dictates that coffee isn’t the best cure for ye olde revenge de Montezuma… but I’ve got a weird feeling that there is really very little actual coffee in the 3 a.m. pots at Denny’s. I mean, have you ever tasted it? Pure acid and caffeine.

Now, I could be wrong and it could be all in my head, but the cure works, whatever twisted little chemicals they throw in. Maybe they should branch out: Denny’s 24 Hour Diner & Pharmaceutical Development, Inc.

I’m not near a Denny’s right now, however. Right now where I am is sitting at a table across from my uncle, and I’m feeling the pain.

“Rice.” Uncle Vin looks at me over his newspaper, sports section, of course. He resisted getting a computer until last year, when an army buddy showed him the magic of ESPN.com; he’s now addicted. Still, he won’t ever give up his morning sports section, at least not until the papers finally go under.

“Excuse me?” At the moment, I’m having a hard time buttoning up my new 501’s (eah, I like the old school jeans). When you first get ‘em, the holes are just too damned small and tight. I’d been wearing cotton pants with a drawstring for the past two years, so my fingers were not used to the action yet. They’d get there, though.

“Rice, I said.” Yeah, Vin, you did say that, I thought. Would you mind actually explainga bi? I’m standing here, in pain, in a foul mood in the doorway of your living room, ineptly fumbling maladroitly with stupid button-flys, fingers still feeling frozen, and the first thing you say to me after five years has something to do with a staple grain whose origins could probably be found in Asia? I try not to let my frustration show.

“hey Uncle Vin, how are ya?” I ask, finally sliding that last button into place. I did manage to shoot him a look of total confusion as well, hoping that would suffice as a prompt for an explanation. Who knows, maybe he’s developed some sort of strange affliction that the fam has neglected to let me in on, so I’m trying to play it cool, like “rice” didn’t even happen. Hell, he may not have even said it, he may have just been mumbling something else, like “good to see you,” only it sounded like “rice.” Cause that’s, ya know, totally plausible.

“Waldo, you gotta lissen when I tells ya somethin’. Rice – that’s th’ thing ta take care o them Paddy Squirts. Trust me, over in “Nam, we used ta junk or cell a lotta our c-rations, an opted for th’ local crap. That was usually rice. Clogs ya right up, keeps ya solid, reg’lar. Glad ta see ya Waldo – wanna beer?”

Uncle Vin has never really been accused of being less-than-direct. Or over emotional. He considers himself worldly ‘cause he’s been to more places than Aunt Seen – he was in Vietnam (and Thailand on one leave, but I’m not supposed to know that). Other than that, everywhere they’ve been, it’s been together. Most parts of Illinois and the surrounding states. They skirted over the boarder to Canada when they went on their Niagran honeymoon eons ago. California on the pretext of checking out schools for Tony, but really it was just to see Disneyland. They wanted to see how it compared to Disneyworld, where they’d gone once in the early 80’s. The only school they saw was UCLA, and then it was only because they’d gotten lost on the way to Universal Studios. And that’s pretty much it.

Real world travelers they are.






I just stumbled across the beginnings of a second chapter, hand-written in a random journal. There may be more than one chapter 2, then. I did edit this a little, updated for the present. earthwulf