Greg emerged from the hallway to find his Uncle Bob in the living room, which was not particularly a surprise, splayed on the couch nude except for a pair of flip-flops, which was. Greg’s mother’s brother was watching what appeared to be a morning talkshow on the television, while drinking a beer and digging into a bag of potato chips.
After a brief, inarticulate cry of horror and a judicious repositioning to limit his field of view, Greg said, “Um, Uncle Bob, what are you doing here?”
“Washing machine’s out,” said Uncle Bob, not turning away from the television. “So I came to use yours. You don’t mind.”
Greg frowned. “How did you get in?”
“Brigid let me in before she went off to work.”
“I assume you weren’t dressed like that at the time,” Greg said.
“Don’t be stupid, boy, of course not,” said Bob. “I don’t lounge around naked in front of women. That would be weird.”
“Uh huh,” said Greg. “You do know that I work in the living room, right?”
“Go right ahead,” said Bob. “Doesn’t bother me.” Then, shaking his head at the television, said, “These dumb broads. First they run a segment about how fat women all are and how they need to go on diets, then ten minutes later they’re showing off a cupcake recipe.”
Greg shook his own head, then said, “You know, Uncle Bob, I have a bathrobe you could borrow.”
“That’s very thoughtful, my boy,” said Uncle Bob. “But I’m fine. Oh damn, out of chips. You don’t have any more, do you?” He stood and flip-flopped his way to the kitchen cupboard.
“Gaah!” said Greg, scooped up his laptop in a frenzy, and retreated to his room for the rest of the day.