Uncle Ed Ruins Christmas
By Ryan Patrick

Oftentimes, in large families, there’s that guy who just doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone. In my family, that’s Uncle Ed.

Uncle Ed’s preferred form of entertainment was seeing small children cry over practical jokes. It’s not that he was mean, per se; it’s just that he wasn’t nearly as funny as he thought he was. And each year, as Christmas approached, a new disaster was unwrapped. Once, years ago, he ran outside on Christmas Eve firing an air rifle at the sky as my cousin chased him in tears. After getting off a few shots, Uncle Ed yelled, “I got him! I got him!” My cousin has never been the same.

When I was five, all I wanted for Christmas was the greatest thing man had invented since penicillin: a Big Wheel. I was enchanted by its cool lines, excellent handling, and little blue trunk, just the right size for holding a peanut butter sandwich and a Little Hug. Then there was the hand brake that caused the plastic tires to leave skid marks on the pavement. I had been having nightly dreams about it in the weeks leading up to Christmas.

When Christmas morning came and went and no Big Wheel appeared, I was concerned, but I wasn’t pressing the panic button just yet. In my family, Christmas morning was always spent at home; then the entire family would go to Grandma’s house for the evening where, miraculously, Santa would usually leave a few more presents for the kids. I still had a chance at this.

After a dinner that seemed to last an eternity, the children were finally permitted to adjourn to the family room to check out the presents. But, after we tore through every single gift, my dream machine was still absent. I tried to be brave, forcing a smile while my all-knowing family grinned, knowing what was to come. Then, when it looked as though my holiday dreams had been shattered, my aunt said, “Look, there’s a big box behind the sofa that we didn’t see. It has Ryan’s name on it.”

I tore the wrapping paper open and found a Big Wheel box underneath. I screamed with glee as I opened the box and looked inside. But then, to my horror, there was no Big Wheel inside. Unknown to everybody in the family, Uncle Ed, who still lived with Grandma, found my gift, removed the Big Wheel, and loaded the box with coal. I broke into tears.

The adults were furious with Uncle Ed. They made him bring the Big Wheel downstairs, and then my Grandmother sent him to his room, even though he was 32 years old. That was many years ago. This year, my Uncle will be coming to my home for Christmas for the first time. Revenge is a dish best served ice cold. 

Ryan Patrick is open to reader suggestions for getting back at Uncle Ed. He can be reached at ryan.w.patrick@gmail.com.

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