My Cousin Jim
Short Fiction by Geoff LaCasse
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Cousin Jim – second cousin third removed, third cousin second removed, or whatever – phoned yesterday to ask if we (me, wife, and our three lovely kids) wanted to visit them (Jim, wife, motley collective of youngsters, dogs, cats, and whatever else) for the weekend. Loneliness called, and no wonder. No one – not one person in the greater family – had shown the slightest interest. I mean, I had heard rumours even his birth parents were reluctant, and they’re the nicest people in the world.
Most of us would agree Jim and family were good people. Of course, I had heard about their being super neat freaks and driving even the most inoffensive to madness. And did they really need bleach in such a quantity as a personal cleaning agent, or scrub their bodies until the blood dripped dark red? A mite excessive but, what the heck, nobody ever accused them of being drug addicts or alcoholics, and they showed little inclination towards pole dancing or putting the toilet roll on the wrong way or crossing the street without looking both ways.
No, the family knew Jim as a klutz of monumental proportions, someone to whom accidents were a common occurrence. We’re not talking about someone who stepped on his tongue while trying to impress the girl next door, or ran his face into a signpost while walking and talking with his best friend. No, Jim was a real klutz.
The list of his ‘accidents’ would take hours to recite, and probably bore the hell out of most of you. Instead, I present you with the regurgitated list – and ignored misadventures from planes, cars, boats, motorcycles, bicycles, skis, and additional forms of transportation. Planted his face into the only parked car in a carpark the size of Vancouver while skateboarding. Nose and front teeth have never been the same. Fell through the ice and suffered hypothermia while skating in a roped-off area. Lost left middle finger to amputation. Sawed into the main powerline and burned the bottoms of both feet while doing renovations on his house. Two littlest toes on his right foot and big toe on his left foot. Slipped into a debarker the first day on the job. Two fingers from his right hand (and very nearly both arms). Stepped too close to a bonfire (twice) and singed himself from tip to tail. Permanent loss of eyebrows from the (first). Tripped over the family cat and fractured his skull tumbling down the back stairs. Partial loss of sight in the left eye and permanent vertigo. Accidentally drank acid (sulfuric, not LSD) in chemistry class in high school and damaged his internal organs. Esophagus and stomach problems from the acid, made worse by his love of greasy food and cardboard packaged wine. Hell, he even sprained his right thumb to the point of useless - while playing tiddly-winks! You can also add in his many nut allergies (fortunately not anaphylactic), cat allergies (see cat, above), dust allergies, amongst others in his misery.
Jim might have been the perfect advertisement for the Darwin Awards except his input to the human gene pool (three little ones in the past five years for five total) through his wife had been largely unaffected, a wonder given what was missing (and fortunate on what wasn’t). He was no daredevil but instead a klutz. A big klutz. A ‘must stay away from because of potential collateral damage’ klutz. So a visit was definitely a no go. As I explained to Jim from the safe distance of the phone call, “I’m sorry, Sonja and I are taking the kids on a round the world trip starting this weekend. Won’t be back for a couple of months.”
It’s better this way, don't you think?
Geoff LaCasse is Canadian and retired and a published author enjoying his free time writing short stories, often based on his travels. Sometimes his stories use humour to make a point.