Albert Belle is Coming to Dinner
All right, gang! Former major leaguer Albert Belle is coming over for dinner next Thursday. Now we all know he's a little moody, and he's got that bad hip and everything, so I've prepared a list of things we've got to do before his arrival.
Mom
Albert is very sensitive about his hip condition, mom. It forced him into early retirement in 2000, so your ramp has got to go; I don't want him to think we built it for him "just in case." I'll lay out a selection of tools by your wheelchair tonight, and I need you to get this done before the bus comes to pick you up tomorrow morning. I'll also put out some heavy gloves to give you extra grip for wheeling the materials out back. Since the sub-grade for the new lawn isn't done yet, it might be a little muddy out there.
Dad
No one will believe that this hovel is a tax attorney's home, so here's your back-story: you were a plumbing apprentice who had a little too much J.D. one night and hit mom on your drive home while she was out looking for you. You've both been on disability since then-hers physical (obviously) and yours psychological. You're also the sub-chairman of the AA committee and a born-again Mormon.
Julie
OK Jules, Thursday is your night to shine. I hear the things said about you around school, and I just want you to know, as your big brother, that you're not as repulsive as they say you are; your nose isn't bigger than your fist and your hair isn't receding that much yet. What you've got going for you is youth. I know you can't fathom
it now, but once a guy gets older (Belle is 40 this year), that attribute becomes more and more appealing. The bottom line is I think you have a shot, and we both know you're probably not going to get another one. I went out and bought you a sack of connies, some thong underwear and a pair of knee socks. You can hit me back later.
Brad
Look, Brad. People are tired of hearing about how you backed over mom with the LeSabre. And how you're 29 years old and still delivering newspapers at 4 in the morning with the Jones' van and earning, what, $600 a month? Or how the accident crippled you on the inside yadda yadda blah blah. Here's your back-story: you're a deaf-mute from Canada who we adopted because you tried to assassinate your special-ed teacher in a moment of temporary madness (not your fault), and it was best for all parties involved to get you out of Flin Flon, Manitoba, as quickly as possible. I made you a paddle out in the workshop that you'll affectionately refer to as "Stampy" by striking it with your hand and moaning loudly. Stampy is your best friend, and the shrinks think it's the key to your soul.
That should do 'er, guys! If any of you have any questions, I'll be in my room Photoshopping our family portraits.
Brendan's favourite cities are Edmonton, Canada and London, England. He lives in the former.