In a lot of ways, my uncle’s passing (which occurred under mysterious circumstances) was one of the worst things that ever happened to me. I really loved Uncle, and we got along famously. I can assure you that I have no idea why anyone would say anything to the contrary. And while his death took a toll on me, I’d be lying if I said there weren’t some good things that came out of it. Like the cherry red ten speed I inherited from him since he had no children of his own.
Here are six things that I will now be able to ride away from.
Marcus, The Boy Who Claims to Be My Uncle’s Son That Was Born Out of Wedlock, and Therefore is Entitled to the Ten Speed
My alleged half-cousin Marcus is fourteen, but he is the fastest kid in his grade. He ran the mile in under seven minutes, according to Coach Dave, who shared this information with me after he saw how cool I looked on my ten speed and grew desperate to earn my approval. Seeing as I am forty years Marcus’ senior, and I’ve come down with a bad case of wet-ass this summer (medical condition that makes you sweat a line into the back of your khakis), it would appear that Marcus could easily catch me and force me to share the bicycle. If I were on foot, that is. I can reach speeds upwards of 25 mph on this thing, so Marcus doesn’t stand a chance.
The Feeling in the Pit of My Stomach That I’ve Done Something Wrong
It’s so weird because I obviously have no reason to feel guilty since I had nothing to do with Uncle’s unfortunate passing. But just the other day, I noticed the feeling when I went into the woods to go to Church (I worship that tall drink of water known as The Blair Witch). Luckily, when my conscience refused to cooperate, I was able to ride my ten speed out of there and down the road. There’s nothing like the wind in your hair to quell the (unfounded) anxiety that you played a role in your uncle’s death.
Detective Rodgers, Who Just Wants to Ask Me a Few Questions
Sorry Detective, but if I’m not being arrested, I’m going to pedal out of here. I already told you. The last time I saw Uncle, we were arguing because he refused to let me have his ten-speed bike. That’s just normal bonding stuff that uncles and nephews do. And when Uncle wore the weighted vest in that sensory deprivation tank and drowned, even though he’s afraid of water and would often talk about his disdain for vests since they make his arms feel left out, I was miles away. As the security camera footage from that rest stop showed, I was sweating and washing my face off while staring at myself expressionlessly in the mirror when his body was found. It’s an airtight alibi, dude. Maybe you should do some real police work and try catching ISIS, instead of harassing an innocent civilian like me.
My Wife, Who Thinks I’ve Been Acting Funny Ever Since My Uncle Died
I’m not the one acting weird. I’m acting normal. And by the way, everything I did, I did for us. Look around you at what we have. This ten speed. This basket on the ten speed. These reflectors I put on the ten speed so I could cruise at night. All of this luxury that you’re enjoying watching me enjoy is thanks to Uncle dying. So unless you want things to go back to the way they were when we were nobodies who didn’t have a ten speed, I suggest you stop asking questions.
My Aunt, Who is Trying to Drive a Wedge in the Family By Spreading the False Allegation That I Killed Her Husband
Aunt Michelle, come on. Just look through all the family photos Uncle and I have together. Here’s one of me glaring at him at Thanksgiving when he refused to let me carve the turkey. And here’s one of me looking at him out of the corner of my eye at Easter after he chided me for my lackluster performance during the egg hunt. And here’s one at last year’s 4th of July barbecue. I’m staring at him emotionlessly, but my fists are clenched SUPER tight. Do you remember that barbecue, Aunt Michelle? I do. I had to walk there because Uncle refused to let me borrow his bike. It took me four hours and it was one hundred degrees.
Uncle’s Ghost
This spiteful apparition shows me no mercy. He warns me that I may be able to outrun him temporarily, but I will never be rid of him; he has promised to make me atone for my actions. But guess what, bitch? If you want to make me atone, you’ll have to catch me first, a task that is nearly impossible since my bike has literally TEN different speeds. Good luck.