The Oscars

“What is this on television, a football game?” Aaron asked Joe Watts.

“Nope, buddy,” he said. “It’s a golfing tournament.”

Aaron looked at Aunt Wilhelmina, who rolled her eyes. “Even more exciting.” His aunt burst out laughing. Score one for me, he thought – Aunt Wilhelmina couldn’t stand Joe and often wondered (aloud, to Aaron) why in the hell her stupid sister had ever married him.

Joe snorted between beer gulps. “Hey, cut out the sarcasm, Aaron Aardvark.”

Aaron made a squirrely face at his uncle – his aunt’s husband, he thought with a mental fuck you to ‘im. He’d get back at Joe Watts one day.

And then he pictured it – tying him up in a sling and making him watch the 1954 Academy Awards. You know, the one where that Philadelphia pig stole the Oscar from Judy Garland. And before the Oscars, they’d watch a Bette Davis movie – yes, “The Letter.” Actually, “The Old Maid” would do a better job of making Joe gag. Oh, and after the Oscars, they’d watch “Auntie Mame.”

Now that would be going into gay overdrive. And Aaron wasn’t even gay. He just liked having sex with men.