“This is good champagne.” I don’t think he knew the difference because he’s a beer drinker. Sometimes, whiskey.
Around twelve-thirty, brunch was over. All the cousins drove all the cars because the adults were still a little too drunk to drive to the graduation.
Except for my dad, because he was too busy videotaping everyone with a camera he rented from the video store.
“Why buy a camera when you only need it three times a year?”
So, my sister, brother, dad, mom, and I each had to go in a different car to make sure nobody got lost.
I went with all my Ohio cousins, who promptly pulled out a “joint” and passed it around.
I didn’t smoke any of it because I wasn’t in the mood, and they said what they always say. “Charlie, you’re such a pussy.”
So, all the cars pulled into the parking lot, and we all got out.
And my sister yelled at my cousin Mike for rolling down the window while he was driving and messing up her hair.
“I was smoking a cigarette,” was his reply. “Couldn’t you wait ten minutes?” was my sister’s.
“But it was a great song,” was his final word. So, as my dad was getting the video camera out of the trunk,
and my brother was talking to some of the graduating girls who were a year older and “looking good,”
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