The Butcher Returns

My Dad calls and he’s all like “Where’s your brother?” and I’m like “I don’t know.  I haven’t seen him since Thursday.”  And my dad says “He is aware that he’s not supposed to go on the honeymoon with them, right?” 

“I don’t know, Dad.  Maybe it’s one of those group marriages where the Butcher married both of them and he just didn’t have the heart to invite us.”

“Don’t even joke about that.  I’d never hear the end of it from your Aunt if the Butcher got married and no one from our family was invited.”

“Even if it was a group wedding.”

“Well, I’d never hear the end of it about that, either.”

“But you’d rather they refuse to come than not be invited.”

“It’d be easier on your mother and me.”

So, finally, yesterday, I’m sitting around in the post-offer-made glow of, obviously, making an offer on a house, my phone rings and it’s the Butcher.  He’s clearly calling from the gates of Hel.

“Ha-eelll [croak croak] looobbbeee”

“Are you still alive?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where have you been?”

“At the wedding.”

“Yes, you left Thursday and today is Sunday and…”

“I had to feed the dog.”

“Mrs. Wigglebottom?”

“Her, too.”

“I made an offer on the house.”

“Everything seemed okay to Mack and the Missus’s husband?”


“Okay then.”


He went to bed shortly after I got home yesterday and he’s still up there sound asleep now.