Uncle lucifer was my most interesting uncle. He was an elk hunter, but he wouldn't kill the elk. instead, he would chase it down, knock it to the ground and suck all the gristle out of it's neck though a Donald Duck straw.
He was fun to be with Uncle lucifer; he could eat a whole bowl of alphabet soup and then vomit up the vowels and consonants separately. his hobby was attending reunions of groups he had never belonged to and pretending to be people who were long dead. till the end of his days, Lucifer remained biter that when he was a boy there had been no seedless red grapes. he died in an Indian furniture outlet when he was torn to pieces by a pack of Cape Cod hunting dogs. ~The Late Great George Carlin: When Will Jesus Bring The Pork Chops
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