Family Time, Day 2.
Wine rations are low. I am texting friends:
Me: “I’m in a car listening my mom and grandfather talk, and ‘Disco Duck’ is on the radio for some reason. So… I’m just gonna jump out of the car and hope for the best.”
Friend 1: “BWHAHAHA.”
Friend 2: “Holy shit, that is amazing. Godspeed.”
Me: “The conversation literally just went from houses in the city Grandpa worked on back in the day, to this area being ‘right near where Butch’s* friend was murdered,’ to ‘I have to go to that Indian doctor later this week.'”
Friend 2: “I look forward to your alone time. That is a lot to process.”
*When you’re white trash (as I am), there’s always a Butch. Fact. I know two. If you’re really lucky, you’ll get a “Butchy.” But you have to BELIEVE.