My uncle was obsequious, purple & clairvoyant, pompous, obese & ate cactus, dull, boring & omnipresent & criticized things he didn't know about. "He needs his knees removed!" said my uncle. "Put a bowtie on that giraffe!" was another of his favorite sayings. My uncle was a braying jackass of a man. A bitter lackluster trainwreck of a man. But I needed him to for his Avril Lavign record collection. My Uncle the braying jackass of Vermont had somehow, keenly sensed her greatness and cornered the market on manure and other similarly smelly substances. My uncle was a strange one, or "complicated," as he put it. He liked to braid his scraggly beard and dress like a sk8er boi although he was a 64-year old accounting lawyer. His tattoos, an amalgam of death-imagery and tax forms, disturbed the participants at the Annual Tax Conference but got him more Publicity than he wanted. The tattoo police were looking for me, and I conveniently became the first tattoed mouse in the streets of Hsu City. It was a top Onion story. Then the news revealed the tattoo had belonged to the skin donor and not to me. I lost sponsors left & right. Being a famous mouse without endorsement deals meant my 15 minutes was up. The ghost of Walt Disney showed me the door. "Get out of here, you tatoo-less rodent freak!" it snapped. It was then I began my life on the skids; lying in the gutter drinking Moonshine and reenacting Steamboat Willie to strangers for money with no steamboat and only...well you get the idea. Minnie had left me after the firing and married Goofy. I got what I deserve, I suppose, acting up &thinking people would love me, actually believing Walt would render me immortal at a theme park in Florida, of all places. RATS...

 

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