Howard, And His Memories Of The Tale Of Uncle Cuthbert’s Adventures With Him
One day, on Tuesday the seventeenth of October, Howard The Person was returning
home after having two delicious hotdogs for a mere two dollars, at Wasses Hotdogs, in scenic Belfast, Maine. He angrily strolled into his living room, taking no consideration for anyone except for himself and the living room he was entering. Howard had a countenance quite similar to that of a fellow who would play his part in a movie, had a movie ever been made of Howard’s wandering the streets of the town in which he lived. Howard The Person loved his streets, and took full advantage of the enjoyment they could bring him every day that he went out on them.
But suddenly! Low and behold! In the living room! Howard’s eyes caught sight of a scale statue of his long lost uncle, Cuthbert! Excitement flowed through Howard The Person’s blood. He was excited. It excited him to think that there was someone else in this harsh and wonderful world who held old odd Uncle Cuthbert dear in their black and blue little heart.
As Howard gazed at the finely carved, and carefully brass-plated statue of his long lost, odd, old uncle, he remembered the first time that the two of them (liberated from financial slavery) visited the British Empire. They all ate turkey without using any silverware, upon arrival. The queen laughed at their silliness, and by doing so stepped out of character, lowering herself to common status, and sending the entire monarchy spinning out of control like a silly dervish trapped in the desert. Uncle Cuthbert was wearing his green sunglasses. Howard wasn’t.
Howard The Ever-Lovin’ Person then thought of the time when funky old Uncle Cuthbert and he were playing flute in the desert, and saw a whirling dervish go by. It made them dizzy. Howard and Uncle C. were waiting for their ride, and having a good old time.
They were always having good times, as Howard The Never-Forgetful Person now recalled, as he drifted into his memories, and picked out the one where he and the ever-growing Uncle Cuthbert went to the sea, and went deep-sea fishing on Cousin Ralphie’s row boat built for three. Cousin Ralphie. The sheep sheep of the family.
The idea of sheep made Howard hungry, as he stood nearer and nearer to the brass-plated memento. He made himself a sandwich, and as he sat down, he ate it. Uncle Cuthbert used to eat things. The nicest of things, that he would pick out at the corner store, just around the corner. Ahhh, the things old Mister Uncle Cuthbert and Howard The Person would do. Those were the days of early mornings, and nights, following many hours later. Sleeping, waking up, eating breakfast, brushing their teeth, taking a shower, planting the garden, spying on the neighbors, blackmailing them with death threats, eating lunch, brushing their teeth, taking a nap, getting up, brushing their teeth, briefly leaving the country, reaping the profits of many a space program, having a tall glass of water, sitting on the porch, eating dinner, washing their hands, taking their pills, brushing their teeth, and going to bed. What a life. The good life. The best of lives. It was all gone now, though.
But then, suddenly, a familiar figure appeared outside Howard’s door! Old, odd, long lost Uncle Cuthbert had found his way home at last! No, no. Wait. It was only Howard’s eldest daughter wearing an Uncle Cuthbert mask that she had purchased at the mall without her father’s knowledge. Howard was so overwhelmed with fear, shock, pride, and happiness that he fell out of his antique chair, and right onto the statue. It broke into one million tiny little pieces, all of the brass corroded, and the wood burnt up.
Howard The Solitary Person returned to his mundane desk job at the office as soon as he could.
