‘A horse walks into a bar,’ Uncle Tony begins.
‘Oh God,’ I think, ‘here we go again.’
Somehow I always end up sitting next to Uncle Tony at family events. Always stuck with the lousy jokes. It is too early, most of the guests haven’t arrived. I’m way too sober to pretend to be amused. And this is an old one, he must have told it to me a dozen times before.
I shouldn’t complain I suppose, there isn’t going to be anyone here that I actually want to talk to. I only see these people a couple of times a year, we have nothing in common. Listening to Uncle Tony’s jokes is easier than making small talk. I guess that must be why he does it, it’s easier than pretending to care.
‘Why did the chicken cross the road?’ he asks.
What? Did he even deliver the punchline to the last one? I must have zoned out for a bit.
‘I can’t wait to find out Uncle Tony. I’ll just head to the bar first. You want the usual?’ And a quadruple whiskey for myself, it might help me find a sense of humour.