Do Something

“Listen,” I said, leaning into a curve on the Grand Central Parkway, just west of where I’d typically make my escape down the Cross Island, “if you want to do something nice for my mother, you have to give her your condolences.”

“For what? Who died?”

“My Aunt Marie. She was my mom’s cousin, but we called her Aunt Marie.”

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry. How’d she die?”

“No fuckin’ clue. Does it matter?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just say something when you walk in the house,” I said. “It’ll put you in her good graces.”

“I’m not saying anything until you tell me what’s going on. I feel like this is another one of your setups.”

“Trust your gut.”

“I knew it,” she said. “Why would you want me to do something like that?”

“Because I’d laugh my ass off and so would my mother. She couldn’t stand Aunt Marie.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” I replied, “her sister’s husband, who I misguidedly called my ‘uncle’ for my entire childhood, was cheating on his wife with Aunt Marie for years. It’s absolutely disgusting. That whole side of the family is trash.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Welcome to it.”

“That’s horrible,” she said.

“No shit. And Aunt Marie had a ton of money that her husband left her, and my ‘uncle’ was the sole beneficiary in her will. He’s fuckin’ loaded now. That’s what he was after the whole time.”

“Wow.”

“You know what I’m really wondering right now?” I asked.

“What?”

“I’d love to know where the wake is.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d love to go there and start a fight,” I replied. “I can’t stand any of those motherfuckers on that side of the family. They’ve treated my mother like shit for years, and I’d love to just walk in the funeral home and clean house.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious. It’d be like in those old battle royale scenes in the WWF where Hulk Hogan would get all pissed off and just start chucking guys over the top rope, only this time it’d be me choking a bunch of junkies until they turned blue. That would make me really happy. I’d finish it off by nailing Crackhead Pete with a Stone Cold Stunner, and then I’d pour half a beer on his head and drink the rest.”

“And then,” she said, “they’d have you arrested.”

“It’d be worth it, believe me. I’d relish every last fucking minute of it.”