There was no way it could be Uncle
Timothy. He’d been cautioned. As far
as I knew, he was far away. The whole
thing was a puzzling enigma. Whatever
the story, I was relieved we had some
food. I unpacked the bags. There were
the usual glamorous items. William’s eyes
bulged in his head. He literally drooled.
I sat and munched thoughtfully on a
stick of celery. William chomped greedily
on oven baked crisps, until his belly was
full. He burped loudly and grossly. As
we cleared the messy table, there was
a gentle rap at the door.

Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist

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