So you’ve stopped at the convenience store to pick up “marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate bars” for Uncle Finster.
As you’re doing so the store is robbed by a pair of masked men, one of which you discover your cousin Roscoe.
“So, you’re robbing stores now, Roscoe?”
“You’ve gotta stay busy.”
“Sure. Maybe take up whittling instead.”
“There’s no money in whittling…unless you’re like, really good at it.”
“You know what else there isn’t in whittling: conjugal visits.”
“What?” Your Cousin Roscoe seemed clearly confused.
“Because of all the prison time you going to be doing,” you explain.
“If you’re good at robbing stores you don’t go to prison.” Cousin Roscoe seems to exude confidence.
“But you’re not good a robbing stores.”
“Why do say that?” Cousin Roscoe seemed legitimately insulted.
“Well, while you were standing here talking to me, your partner fled with the money and the police have pulled up outside and are currently surrounding the building.”
“What!” Your Cousin Roscoe spins around and glares at Rodney. “Did you call the cops?”
“I pushed the button under the counter,” Rodney tells him apologetically. “I didn’t know it was you.”
“What am I gonna do? I’ve got to get the marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars to Uncle Finster.”
“Is that really your biggest worry at the moment?”
“You know how Uncle Finster gets!”
You and Rodney nod grimly.
“About that, Uncle Finster also told me to bring those things.”
“Uncle Finster says you’re unreliable. I mean, after that whole button pushing fiasco.”
“I know how to push a button!” You yell in exasperation.
“You’re not the only one,” Cousin Roscoe says sneering at Rodney.
Rodney just shrugs. “I’m not the one who’s letting down Uncle Finster and /or going to prison.”
“There’s only one thing to do,” Cousin Roscoe states resolutely.
“That’s what I was thinking,” you tell Cousin Roscoe.
“I have to take you hostage.”
“Turns out that’s not what I was thinking,” you quickly amend yourself.
“It’s the only way.”
“To get shot in the face?”
“There’s at least a 25 percent chance that will happen at the big family reunion anyway.”
You and Rodney nod grimly–there will be alcohol, firearms, and trigger happy idiots at the big family reunion–it’s practically required.
“Cousin Roscoe, I want you to think about this clearly,” you say in the most calming voice you can muster, “the police have surrounded the place and you don’t even have a gun.”
“We have one under the counter,” Rodney chimes in. “He could use that one.”
You gape at Rodney in bewilderment. “Really?”
“Great. I’ll take that.” As Rodney hands the gun over to Cousin Roscoe a scream comes from outside of the store.
After several frenzied moments of tear gas filled chaos, you find yourself being led from the store as you cough and gasp for air.
Your cousin Roscoe is being pummeled by several adrenaline fueled police officers.
Rodney has been shot in the leg.
As you watch your cousin Roscoe being roughly stuffed into a squad car and Rodney being loaded into the back of an ambulance, you realize that neither of them will be attending the big family reunion. There is one overriding thought that goes through your mind: those lucky bastards.