Uncle Monty takes a seat next you adorned in blood stained camouflage and reeking of an odor previously thought to be reserved for things in an advanced state of decay.
“You smell like the ass end of rhinoceros,” Cousin Bucky exclaims through a pinched nose.
“It is a very pungent odor,” your uncle Monty confirms.
“Why?” You ask.
“Why what?” Uncle Monty responds.
“Why do you smell like the ass end of a rhinoceros, and why do you seem entirely unbothered by the fact that you smell like the ass end of a rhinoceros?”
“It’s a new masking scent I’m trying out.”
“A masking scent?”
“You know, to mask the human scent so you don’t frighten off the wildlife when you’re hunting.”
“That smell is meant to not frighten things off?” Cousin Bucky says with bewilderment.
“The scent of humans often frightens some animals,” Uncle Monty explains.
“Well, if you were going for a smell that’s inhuman: mission accomplished,” you tell Uncle Monty. He takes it as praise–it wasn’t really meant to be.
“Thank you,” Uncle Monty beams with pride. “This is a scent of my own design.”
“You created this smell?”
“Absolutely. There are few secret ingredients that I can’t reveal, but mostly it’s yak urine and deer semen.”
“I just threw up in my mouth a little bit,” Cousin Bucky tells you as gets up to leave. “You’re on your own.”
“I’m certain I don’t want to know the answer to this, but where do you get deer semen?”
“Let’s just say, I’m resourceful.”
“Unnervingly creepy would have been my choice of words, but we can go with resourceful.”
Your cousin Rebecca stops on her way past. “Hey Uncle Monty did you get anything today?”
“What do you mean?” Uncle Monty seems confused by the question.
“Haven’t you been hunting today?” She responds.
“Why would you think that?” For a self-proclaimed inventor, your uncle Monty is really quite dim.
“Because you’re all dressed in camouflage and you smell like death,” she explains.
“Have you not met Uncle Monty before?” You tell her matter-of-factly.
“Yeah. Have you not met me?” Uncle Monty backs you up.
“You’re both idiots,” Cousin Rebecca says as she walks away.
“You do wear an awful lot of camouflage, Uncle Monty.”
“I wear a normal amount of camouflage.”
“You have a camouflage wallet.”
“I need a camouflage wallet.”
“Why? In case you get mugged by a deer?”
“I need a camouflage wallet because I hunt.”
“Drop that thing in the forest and you’ll be hunting.”
“When I get this masking scent approved by the FDA, this camouflage wallet will be stuffed with cash.”
“I’ll be holding my breath–mostly because of the smell, but good luck.”
“If those pricks at the FDA weren’t so completely anal. A few tumors in some lab rats and a couple of random puss filled sores and they put a complete halt on progress.”
“How many lab rats?”
“Just three or four…dozen.”
“Those pricks,” you say disgustedly.
Before your conversation can proceed any farther down a genuinely disturbing path, your Aunt Zelda demands everyone’s attention because it’s time for your uncle Ronnie to say the blessing.
And so the big family reunion officially begins.