You’ll Go “Clunk” When Your Mom Gets Hold Of You

, , , , , | Legal | January 12, 2021

In the early 1980s when my parents are first married, they are staying in the town my dad grew up in. The town has less than 2,500 people. Everyone knows everyone else, and they’re all related in some way. One night, after having dinner with his parents, they return to the place they are staying to find someone has broken in and stolen most of their things, including my mother’s collapsible pool stick, which is her pride and joy.

They report it to the police, tell his parents, and try to find a way to calm down. Dad suggests they go to the local bar, get a couple of drinks, and maybe ask around about it. As they sit there and talk to some people, Mom hears a very familiar noise. It’s the distinctive “clunk” noise that her pool stick makes when it strikes the cue ball. She gets my dad’s attention and points out the pool table to him.

One of his cousins is playing pool, and the stick he’s using is the one making the “clunk” noise.

Mom: “[Dad], that’s my stick!”

Knowing better than to cause a scene in a bar, my dad went to the payphone… and called his aunt. He told her what had happened and that he thought her son was the one who’d broken into the house. His aunt came down immediately and dragged my dad’s cousin out by the collar of his shirt, screaming up one side and cussing down the other. 

Turns out, he HAD been the one to break into the house, figuring my mom, who was from out of state, would have really valuable stuff to sell. Luckily, he hadn’t had a chance to sell anything, and they got everything back.


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Making Baby Jesus Cry

, , , , , | Related | December 24, 2020

It’s Christmas Day at my grandparents’ house. Dinner has been served and eaten, presents and stockings have been opened and, to entertain the eight cousins in attendance, my aunt has come up with some party games.

First up is “pin Baby Jesus in the manger.” My oldest cousin, a ripe twenty years old, offers to be the first to have an oversized Santa hat pulled over his eyes. Once that’s in place, he gets spun around by many eager hands a few times. It’s simple from there: get Baby Jesus from his hand to the manger that is no more than five feet in front of him.

The manger is taped to a closed door, which my cousin had noted before having his eyes covered. Next to said closed door is a painting that has hung there for as long as any of us can remember. When he gets close enough, my cousin confidently leans one hand against the door and slaps the Baby Jesus as hard as he can onto the glass of the painting’s frame with his other. 

Lots of shouting and laughter ensues. After it’s established that he didn’t break anything, my cousin turns to my grandma and asks an innocent question. 

“That means I get to keep the painting, right?”

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This Story Ramps Up Quickly

, , , | Friendly | CREDIT: Anonymous by request | December 22, 2020

‘Twas the morning of Christmas and all through the house, every family member was beginning to rouse. My cousin and I crept into the den, to see just what Santa had brought for us then. My cousin saw near my stocking a Pikachu skateboard, something he saw and decided he’d hoard.

Okay, I don’t want to keep rhyming this.

I’m spending Christmas with my entitled aunt and uncle and their kids. My little a**hole cousin sees the Pikachu skateboard and tells me he wants it.

Me: “I want a million bucks and a new car. Who died and made you God?”

The kid looks at me like I just put a parrot in a microwave — shocked and insulted yet still in awe.

Cousin: “Come on, man. You always get the cooler stuff. Look what I got, dude.”

He points to his stocking, full of candy and football stuff. He even got this year’s newest “Madden” game in there. I am in seventh grade and this kid is in fifth grade; he’s too old to cry over not getting his way on Christmas.

We creep back to his room, quietly arguing over who gets to keep the Pikachu skateboard under MY stocking.

Cousin: “You’re gonna give me that board. I’ll make you.”

Me: “Not a snowball’s chance in H***.”

We wait for our parents, grandma, and his older sister to wake up.

[Cousin] tries to act surprised at what he got for Christmas, but I don’t, because I just think it’s pointless to do that when you already know what you got. I get a good load this year, too.

[Cousin] tells his mom that he MIGHT wanna trade with me. His mother — my aunt — looks like Coraline’s mother. She turns her creepy Claymation-looking head to me.

Aunt: “Is it okay if you trade with your cousin?”

Me: “Depends. I totally want my skateboard.”

Cousin: “Well, that’s what I want.”

Me: “Eh, I’m not interested.”

Aunt: “Let’s wait until we open gifts. Then, you’ll all know what you have, and you’ll be able to change your mind.”

We open gifts. When my cousin asks AGAIN if I want to trade, I repeat myself again.

Me: “Nope, I think I’m fine with what I got.”

My mom tries to break up the situation.

Mom: “Son, go put your stuff in the car; we’re leaving after lunch.”

Cousin: *Screaming* “But I want what he got! I want that skateboard!”

He hides his face and starts acting like he’s crying. I still say no. At this point, my aunt looks at me like I farted in an elevator — offended and s*** on. My mother helps me take my stuff, grabbing the skateboard first.

Aunt:Wait! Can I look at the skateboard? I may just go buy the same one.”

She takes a picture of it with her flip phone.

After we put all our stuff in the car, we all decided to go back to sleep — all except my younger cousin, of course. I’m sleeping on the couch.

When we wake up from our siesta, it’s near lunchtime. The sandwiches that my mother and nana make at Christmas time are unlike anything else. Paired with pineapple pie, it’s like a party in your mouth.

I ask where my cousin is; his mother says he’s at a friend’s house playing football.

While we’re all eating, my cousin walks into the house. He’s got this LOOK on his face like he’s accomplished a difficult feat. He says he isn’t hungry. Okay, that’s weird coming from him; he almost always has an empty stomach. He avoids eye contact with me. I get suspicious, so I get up to look in the car to see if anything is missing.

Cousin: “No, wait!”

I open the car door. Apparently, [Cousin] took the car keys from my mom’s purse and unlocked the car with it, and he took my skateboard. But he didn’t just skate on it! He had, somehow and I don’t know how, managed to break the thing in TWO. And he thought I wouldn’t notice it if he tried to tape it back together with electrical tape. I was pissed, and I cried.

My cousin always has this “if I can’t have it, nobody can” motto. I’ve never wanted to hurt someone so badly before in all my life.

Moral of the story: don’t let your kid be like Dudley Dursley.

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Autobots, Roll Out In Embarrassment

, , , , , , | Related | December 11, 2020

When I’m a teen, my family is visiting my family and we go to a movie theatre with the younger generation of kids and teens. We go to see one of the “Transformers” movies and I am seated beside my cousin who is so dyslexic that, even as a teen, he can’t read.

During the movie, all of the baddies are checking in over walkie-talkies in preparation for an attack. They are speaking their own alien language, so I lean over to my cousin to read the subtitles to him. The music swells as the scene progresses, so I get louder with it. Then, it stops suddenly to build excitement for the coming battle.

In this sudden silence, I yell the final subtitle.

Me: “ALL HAIL DECEPTICONS!”

The roar of laughter from the almost sold-out show, my family, and their friends shook the theatre.

To this day, the younger ones of the family who were there still rib me about it.


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What Happens In Canada Stays In Canada

, , , , , , , , | Friendly | October 27, 2020

This happens a few years ago, before the US lifts its embargo on Cuba. My roommate has an American cousin who’s come up to Canada for the weekend. One of my other roommates is a bartender and has mixed up some drinks for us while we’re hanging out.

American Cousin: “Wow, that’s really good! What’s in it?”

[Bartender Roommate] reels off a list of ingredients, including rum.

American Cousin: “What kind of rum?”

Bartender Roommate: “Ah, my very favourite, [Brand].”

American Cousin: “Never heard of it. Is it Dominican?”

Bartender Roommate: “No, it’s Cuban.”

American Cousin: “Dude! You’ve got a hookup for Cuban rum?!”

[Bartender Roommate] laughs because she thinks he’s joking.

Bartender Roommate: “Yeah, my super-secret connection, the [Provincial Government-Run Liquor Store].”

American Cousin: “No way! Can I get in on this?”

I cut in because I can see he’s actually serious.

Me: “You can pick it up at most liquor stores here.”

American Cousin: *With a wink* “Sure, sure. So, you’ll hook me up, yeah?”

No matter how hard we tried to persuade him that it was completely legal to buy Cuban products in Canada, he kept thinking we were pulling his leg because “Cuban stuff is illegal.” Even taking him to multiple obviously legitimate liquor stores and a specialty tobacconist didn’t convince him. However, he seemed happy to go home with two or three bottles of rum and some cigars, so all’s well, I suppose.

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