It was my nephew’s sixteenth birthday this week. Jesus, where does the time go?
Some days I feel like I just turned sixteen. But then I run my fingers through my hair…
oh yeah. Back to earth. Not that I’d necessarily want to be that age again, believe me. I
had a better time than most with it, but Jesus… I always pity the people who look at high
school as the best years of their lives. Wow… always good to peak early there, tool shed.
Dare to dream.
Part of me, just a tiny bit, does want to go back. Of course, I’d want to know what I
know now. You couldn’t pay me to live that time again without the full extent of my life
experience to guide me. I tell you what, I’d own that damn school this time around. As
we all know, popularity is about confidence. Well… and looks. Boom! Two for two! I
was pretty badass in high school, but I’m about a million times cooler now, so… those
little morons wouldn’t even know what hit them. Drop a little Ferris Bueller action on
them. I always did want to sing on a parade float. Oh wait… no… that’s Marie.
Anyway, we had a family dinner for the kid. Just what every sixteen-year-old wants
— quality time with the olds. Nah, he’s a good kid and makes sure to indulge us. He got
a car too, so that should make him happy. There’d be hell to pay if it didn’t, that’s for
sure. I would’ve given my left nut for a car at that age. Okay… maybe not. But I’d have
had no scruples about getting you someone else’s. Sorry doucheknuckle, Hank needs to
We had some cake, a few presents. We were only allowed to get him car-themed
gifts. I’d been thinking of getting the kid a video game or something, but the wife laid
the hammer down on that. She wouldn’t even let me get him Grand Theft Auto which is,
you know, technically car-themed. Thought I was being creative. But no… I’m the
douchebag asshat for even suggesting it. No, no — bullshit car accessories only. Because
that’s what every kid wants.
The poor bastard… he kept that smile up through the whole thing. Even when he
opened up the little car-sized trash can. For chrissakes — that’s what plastic take out
bags are for! We’ve already solved this problem, people. That was nothing compared to
Marie’s gift though — a car vac. What sixteen-year-old boy would ever, in his life,
suddenly think — man, I gotta vacuum this mofo right now! There’s too much lint on the
passenger seat! Yeah… eff that noise. Even more ridiculous? The kid’s folks own a car
wash. There’s no way that kid is ever lifting a finger to vacuum the upholstery himself.
Ever. Should of just lit that handful of cash on fire, Marie.
My gift, though… my gift was actually useful. I gave him a little get-out-of-jail free
card. And yes, that’s the official name. He gets pulled over, he slides that baby over and
just maybe he gets out of a ticket. The guy version of bursting into tears. I will say, his
mom was not happy with me. I don’t know what she’s worried about. This kid is so
good, I wouldn’t doubt he’s somehow the spawn of Mister Rogers. Mom never needs to
worry about him even approaching a “dead hooker in the trunk” level of screwing up.
The worst he’s gonna do is “oh officer, I didn’t realize how fast I was going.” Then he’ll
slap on the puppy dog eyes, and bam! Problem solved. Either way… nothing to lose