The ceremony was supposed to begin twenty minutes ago. I look at my watch to make sure I'm not crazy. Incredible. I've been sitting here for almost half an hour and there's been no sign of the bride or groom. Knowing my cousin, he's probably still trying to squeeze his fat ass into a pair of slacks.
"I told you we should've grabbed a bite to eat before we got here," I whisper to my fiancé, Liz.
She hands me a piece of sugar-free gum. "I need food, not fresh breath," I tell her as my stomach continues to growl.
"Don't complain to me, this is your family's wedding," she snaps.
"Well, do you have any of those crackers from the other night?"
"I don't know, look," she says handing me the ridiculously expensive leather Coach clutch I bought for her birthday, or anniversary, or Valentine's Day, who really remembers anymore. I search inside in hopes of finding anything of sustenance. Cell phone, tampons, hair clips, but no crackers. How can one little bag hold so much junk? I throw the bag back on her lap.
The combination of not eating and listening to this awful violinist play the same song over and over is making me nauseous. Just as I'm about to step outside, I spot my uncle. I do a double take when I see who's sitting next to him.
"See that older guy back there?" I discreetly point him out to my fiancé.
"The one with the terrible comb over?" she asks. "That's my uncle," I tell her. Surprised, she turns around to get another look.
"Don't stare."
"That's your uncle, the one that won the lottery?"
My Uncle Rich won the lottery two years ago. I believe it was something like $85 million. I know what you must be thinking – is his name really Rich? No, it's Richard to be exact, but everyone calls him Rich. The clever ones call him Richy Rich. I just call him Dick. Out of all the people in the world, winning the lottery couldn't have happened to a bigger prick.
To be blunt, my uncle has always been a selfish, alcoholic loser. He often looked down on other members of the family despite the fact that he was a middle-aged man with no job, no wife, and no hair. No matter how much he would belittle us, my Father always rushed to his defense. They were best friends until Dad met my Mom almost 30 years ago. Since then, whether it was jealousy or self-pity, Uncle Rich transformed into the ginormous assclown I've grown to hate. Still, Dad would go out of his way to help get Uncle Rich back on his feet. Whether it was setting him up with job interviews, or simply giving him money, he made it a priority to get the brother he loved back to normal.
Since you see how I feel, it doesn't take a Mensa candidate to know it never worked out. Uncle Rich just blew the money on booze and broads and became more of an old curmudgeon through the years. But the turning point was when my Dad passed away from a long battle with cancer. Good ol' Uncle Rich never made it to the funeral. We never got a call, card, text, tweet – not a single offer of remorse. Only six months later he stumbled ass backwards into the Mega Millions Jackpot. I believe it was a $1 scratch off he bought along with a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20. Life's funny that way, I guess. My Dad loses his battle with cancer; my Uncle wins $85 million.
Suddenly Uncle Rich is schmoozing with the family. He's spotted at all the gatherings, but with a little more hair and a lot more money. And shockingly, the rest of the family has forgotten just what a jerk he is. Now, whether it's Thanksgiving or Passover, everyone stands in line to kiss moneybag's big fat ass. 'Need another Scotch on the rocks, Uncle Rich?' 'Love the new threads Uncle Rich.' And my favorite, 'You look great; workin' out Richy boy?' Sniveling fucks.
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A Motley Wedding Crue
HumorA wedding, a rich, obnoxious Uncle and a Motley Crue song will come together to make a fun, little story! See how one family member handles knowing his Uncle's dirty little secret on his wedding day.
