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Tenderlungs

My uncle George Hogan, he lives in a shack close to the military base. He's always
the guest of unexpected rockets in his backyard. He's a nice man though, he'll
always give you candy if you're nice to him. His wife died a little bit back. Got
ran over by a military tank while checking the mail. He doesn't sweat it though,
he has no sweat glands, he's like a dog, panting when he's hot, panting when he's
out of breath. His old monte carlo, it's okay, a lot of people say it's stupid
looking. See, when he bought it, it was cool. Now they're outdated and people
laugh at them, but he's stuck in the past, where he was the man on the town. He
shoots his guns sometimes, but not often. "The military doesn't like that kind of
shit." He told me onetime after drinking beers. He stood the beers up to the
Christmas tree, they got to about three rows, three feet. I was spooked, but
he assured me everything was alright. This army base, it holds a lot of aliens. A
real nice selection of 'em. Some with weird eyes, antennas, extra arms and legs,
tails, wings, even multiple heads. They even have a couple that look just like us.
My uncle's seen 'em before, he says to me and smiles. A knock at the door, his
crazy little mutt starts barkin' and he goes to let the guest in. The visitor
introduces himself as "Corey" and pulls out a bottle of Captain Morgan. He's an
alien, but I'm okay with that. He's got a cricket in his backpocket, he starts
to chew on it. It reminds me that I'm only human.

One time my uncle had a midget friend over. I thought it was a descendent of
dwarven blood so I kicked it. My uncle belted me for that. Real hard, left a
blister. I never kicked another midget.