  My Christmas Vacation So, did I mention that I have really got a weak stomach? I think it�s an after-withdrawal recovery thing, but no matter. What is important is that I have a weak stomach, and Kurt is a shit connoisseur; he can tell type of animal, condition of said animal, and perhaps even what the animal has eaten all on the basis of a stool sample. These are the two important things to note when I explain a thing or three about Christmas this year. We were staying at Crazy Uncle Paul�s place. Paul has not, nor has ever been my uncle.
He�s not crazy either, just pretty bizarre. He likes to scare people. He was pretty famous in my community for having a bunch of twenty something stoners always at his place. They�d get high, and Paul would fuck with them. He�d say stuff like he was the devil, that he controlled the weather. Explains a lot about me really; I have this tendency to lie to people I don�t respect, or when I�m really cranky.
Not very nice, I admit. Once, I was in the airport with a doped-up Lucas, preparing for a six hour flight. I typically have Lucas� stripe in the middle of his head painted a color, purple or blue, but on this occasion, his stripe was pink. Prreeeeeetttyyy. It was five in the morning, and a stewardess asked me if Lucas had just had an operation. I told her that he was the first dog to be a recipient of a monkey brain.
I AM A BITCH�she said �Really? He had a brain transplant?� �No. Not really,� I bratted, and walked away. Anyways, Paul is like this to a truly extraordinary degree. He�s the type of guy that, when you�re doing dishes, he�d stand behind you, really close, and not say anything. When you turn around, you�d get the living shit scared out of you.
Paul had one of these stoners hanging out with him a little more than the others. He had convinced himself that Paul was the devil. He stabbed Paul in the jugular. Paul, all 65 or so years of him walked the 45 meters to his brothers place, holding his hand to his neck, and his brother drove him to the hospital. Luckily, Paul had taken a month long respite from his alcoholism, and he lived. In the police statement, it was written that the stoner kid had whimpered �Oh no, he�s going to kill us all!� and vamoosed out of the house.
That�s the end of the digression, like I said, the important bits are that A) Kurt is a shit conniseur and B) I have a weak stomach. Oh, and the house is haunted, but tough shit, you�ll read about it tomorrow. 
