The Disappearance of Uncle Bill
Uncle Bill disappeared in September of 1967, at least that’s how the story goes. The story that’s recited after someone inevitably asks, “Who’s that guy there?” in the family photo. There’s almost always an expression of dissatisfaction left on their face with that answer, along with an intuitive sense that yes, there’s way more to it, and nobody’s talking. That’s usually about the time I pipe up, and explain that, as a matter of fact, Uncle Bill is in the crawl space under the house, tied up, in a double density lawn and leaf bag.
That usually gets them off the scent, so to speak. He does blend in nicely with the other items I have stored down there, in identical bags, way in the back, in the dark. Several of those items are in fact the curious, and way to inquisitive, old Aunt Gertie, and her cat. She’s a large lady.
I do speak with old Uncle Bill whenever I’m rummaging around down there under the house, or when I’m passing a foundation vent while walking out in the yard, tending my extraordinarily healthy vegetable garden. If there’s a neighbor outside, I just smile and wave. But I can always tell when they’re inside their house, watching from behind a window curtain. I don’t wave then. That would be weird.
Yep, there’s quite a story behind the disappearance of old Uncle Bill. And you’ll definitely not hear it anywhere else. If you do, please let me know.
Anyway, what with all the life size Halloween skeletons available now, I figured it would be as good a time as any, to bleach dry old uncle Bill, and slip him in at the table in the man cave downstairs. He’s always been my favorite.