Yup, it was dysfunctional.
Gran: how nice to see you.
Naomi: do you like my dress?
Mom: have any wine? I totally forgot to bring some.
Holt: very nice place, ma’am.
Me:
Then, entering the living room for appetizers, who was there to greet me but John, dressed in a black suit and wearing his usual douche-smile.
Gran: look who’s here!
Me:
John: Hey jackass, nice nose. Snorting those drugs, does it still give you a nice high? Oh, right, killing your girlfriend probably brought you down a bit, right?
Of course, he said this just quietly enough so only my sister heard. But dear lord, did my sister ever hear it.
Naomi: Hey asshole. Jacking off, does it still give you a nice thrill?
And, before I could stop her, my sister grabbed one of my grandmother’s many expensive liquor bottles, and, without warning, she smashed it right on John’s groin.
Splat.
Sure, part of me was guilty, but let me tell you this: it was pretty badass.
Me:
John: Holy fu—
Mom: Dear fucking god, someone get me a vodka.
Holt: What the hell?
Naomi: Whoops.
And the night was only getting started.
