Happy Valentine's Day: THE CONTEST by Bruce Mero

It's always nice to celebrate a holiday with a new story. Here is one of my favorites that I lived through...That is my Grandma above on the altered tin. I remember summers at the Lake fondly and recall this particular conversation clearly. It was the first time anything interesting had ever happened at the supper table. I can't buy you all chocolates, but perhaps Dad has given you a chuckle. ;-)

The Contestby Bruce H. Mero

          Warm summer evenings at the cottage at Lake George nearly always found family gathered around the long table on the screened porch eating, talking and imbibing. This night was no exception. As dusk settled upon the lake surface and boats returned to the docks at the end of the bay, family members were engaged in a lively conversation, lubricated by liberal applications of New York's finest spirits. Our meal had been preceded by several bottles of Genesee beer and multiple glasses of red wine accompanied dinner. Dishes had been cleared from the table. The after-dinner conversation rambled from topic to topic, interspersed with laughter. We all were downing glass after glass of Cabernet from a gallon jug we had opened after dinner. It wasn’t long before we were all giddy and getting more so as contents of the wine bottle dwindled.

          It was my sister-in-law that first noticed that her mother was beginning to show the effects of the alcohol and suggested that someone hide the jug when her Mom went to the kitchen to get a cigarette. Upon her return to the porch, she asked to have her glass refilled and was told by the group and in unison, that the wine was gone. Undeterred, she returned to the kitchen and opened a bottle of Genesee beer and took a swig. Leaning on the door jamb between the kitchen and the porch to keep her balance, she looked a sight with a cigarette in her mouth and a beer bottle in her right hand. Surveying the gathered family, a wry smile came upon her face. She removed the cigarette from her mouth. Her left eye was nearly closed and a twinkle sparkled in her right eye. She looked at no one in particular when she stated that she was recently trying to remember which of her three former husbands had the longer penis. Incredulous, the six of us sitting at the table looked at each other with open mouths. Without hesitation, she then stated that she loved all of her sons-in-laws and wondered which of them had a longer penis. 

          She then looked at my brother-in-law sitting to my right, then me, then to my brother-in-law sitting on my left.  Her open eye still twinkled. 

          “Well,” she said.  “Which of you is it?” 

          In a commotion of sliding chairs and clearing throats, the six of us stood and bolted in different directions. The girls took their mother by each arm and led her back through the kitchen and into the living room. The three sons-in-laws slipped out of the screen door and out into the darkness where we spent the remainder of the evening feeding the mosquitoes from the back of the boat parked at the dock.  

          Breakfast the next morning was at first a bit awkward though it became clear after only a few minutes that the query of last evening had been forgotten by the questioner. Nervous glances between those at the table faded to smiles, then grins as the conversation went in other directions.