Good Ol’ Uncle Levi

William Toblerone, contributor


Once again, Uncle Levi pulled out his old yearbook to show us how much potential he once had.  He was an accomplished track star and the president of his senior class. He usually skipped past the page where he was voted “Most Likely to Succeed”, because it saddened him that things didn’t go as planned. One look around his rusted old trailer and you knew he had taken a huge whiskey-soaked detour on the road to riches.

Everyone in town referred to Uncle Levi as Piss Pour. The “Pour” part is not a typo. He would get his beer money by standing in front of the Ingle’s Supermarket and threatening to pour a pot of piss on people’s heads if they didn’t pay him a dollar. It was a threat he would follow through on, so a buck was really a bargain to avoid a dousing from his pee pot.

He had no money for proper clothing, but he kept warm in the winter by wearing an insulated wingsuit. He stripped it from a young adventurer who failed to live through his jump of off the gusty Morgantown Bridge. Wingsuits are aerodynamically form-fitting, so his excessively large gonads enjoyed prominent display. This was the origin of his second nickname, Wingnut.

Hardship really brought out the creativity in Uncle Levi. He was too ugly to find a mate, and he had no money to pay for working girls. Still, a man needs an outlet, so he stole a life-size cardboard cutout of Carol Burnett from the local movie theater. The cardboard cutout depicted Carol as Miss Hannigan, from the original Annie Movie.

Next, He picked a fresh cantaloupe from his garden and warmed it over the fire until it approximated the temperature of lady insides. He carved a hole in it with a corkscrew.  Then he cut a hole in the crotch area of the Carol Burnett display, and aligned it in front of the hollowed cantaloupe. After he made sweet love to his creation under the light of a full moon, he claimed that it was “better’n the real thing!”  He said that Carol Burnett was the perfect lover, because she looked like somebody who might actually have sex with him if she were drunk or had dementia. I thought his third nickname should have been “Mellonballer”, but I never got the nerve to try it.

I recall one afternoon when he showed up at my door asking if I could help with some “couch liftin'”.  I reluctantly agreed. It sounded like I was only on the hook for a quick furniture move, after which I could get back to watching the Gilmore Girls. Instead, we dropped in without notice on nearly every person he knew. He would barge into their house, and announce that he wasn’t leaving until he got a “travelin’ beer.” While they were retrieving a beer from the kitchen, he instructed me to help him lift their couch, invert it, and shake the shit out of it. He scraped up all the change, cigarettes, and drugs before the residents could return.

That was just one of the many ideas he had for storing up enough money to someday take a dream vacation to Branson, Missouri. My Dad was discouraging, as he told him “You’ll never be able to afford that. You can’t even afford a pot to piss in.”  “Explain this then”, said Levi, as he emptied his trademark piss pot on Dad’s head.

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