Uncle Al

Today's post comes courtesty of my memory and my late Uncle Al. Let's just say that among my family, enough stories exist about Uncle Al that we could publish a daily blog and exist for the next twenty years.

Hmmmm....a good idea. I may do that. An Uncle Al blog.

So, when I was about 11 years old, we were all over at my cousin Bradford's house. Uncle Al was his dad.

We're downstairs, pestering the shit out of Uncle Al while he's trying to watch his "critters" on TV.

Al would sit for hours, in the days before Animal Planet and the Discovery Channel, and watch Wild Kingdom or any other show shot in nature, preferably on the African prairie.

He called the animals his "critters".

So, while he's trying to watch his "critters" we're acting like a bunch of Sugar Hyped Assholes, screaming and carrying on.

He then tells us "Boys, you know, there's some pudding upstairs in the fridge."

We knock eachother over climbing the stairs out of the basement and to the kitchen.

Bradford scoops us all a few mounds of the brown bliss and I take the first taste.

It's not pudding....it's gelatinized gravy.

That Al, he's a funny motherfucker...