Ariel Bouvier – Winston-Salem, NC


I had just finished feeding my herd of goats when I heard that familiar roar of a 70’s muscle car.  The car was kicking up so much dust that the Zombies living in my woods started coughing.  You know they do have a tendency to get allergies in the summer and I could never find an Insurance plan that would cover them.

Classic country music permeated the air as the car screeched to a stop almost running over my pet monkey.  Out jumped my cousins Eugene, Earl, Elma, Elvis, Ebenezer, Efrem, Eduardo, Ernest, and Elvin.  I was so happy to see them all.  I just love family.

They were returning from a week of hunting Bigfoot and they wanted to show me the vacation photographs.  Elma was so excited that she had met Ric Flair on the beach and she couldn’t believe that they spent three days watching women-in-prison movies.

Cousin Earl met a supermodel and discovered on their first date that not all supermodels are women.  Efrem laughed a lot about Earl’s date until he found out that his date was actually a robot.  Elvis never could live up to his famous moniker so he wore oversized pants and carried a hammer with him.  Every chance he got he would shout, “It’s hammer time!”  Eventually he was ignored because no one under the age of 30 knew what he was talking about.

A few minutes later Ernest and Elvin got into this huge fight right in the middle of looking at the photographs.  Ernest said that “Road House” was the coolest movie ever and Elvin said it was the stupidest movie ever made.  Finally in the heat of battle, Eduardo stepped in and pulled out his pepper spray and gave them both a blast.

Elvin told Eduardo that he was going to beat the dog snot out of him and Ernest said an Uzi would do a better job.  Eduardo ran into the woods where he was accosted by my pet Zombies.  He screamed as he tripped over the chicken wire that kept my monkey out of my illegal garden.  I don’t know why my parents only taught me how to cultivate one plant.  Well at least now it can be used for medical purposes.

Finally everyone calmed down and went into the house for some lemonade and beer.  I popped a big bowl of popcorn and we all gathered around my new oversized flat screen.  I loaded the collected works of Burt Reynolds into my old DVD player and sat back on the sofa with my pet monkey Fred perched on my shoulder.  My cousins threw a bunch of pillows on the floor and settled in for some serious Reynolds action. 

Well all but Elma, she was text messaging Ric Flair every five minutes.

There is one family custom that we started a few years back.  Whoever drinks the last beer has to kiss the monkey. 20If some PETA person is reading this don’t get all excited, Fred likes it.  As a matter of fact he likes it so much that he’ll drink the last beer and then kiss himself.  In some other countries this custom may seem strange, but here in my neck of the woods it’s a tradition.

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