So, I told y'all about the time my scuzzbucket uncle interrupted my stepdad's funeral because he urgently needed to buy dick pills. I have so many nutty stories about him, because he is one of the biggest jagoffs on the planet. I bet you've got some messed up relatives too. Let's swap yarns, shall we?
The Boob Car:
The Boob Car is one of the few stories where Uncle didn't actively try to fuck anyone over. This one is just amusing.
Back in the early 60s, he painted gigantic boobs all over his car. Somehow, he convinced my very conservative grandparents that they were actually mountains. My uncle is a conman—a natural born hustler—and he can be astonishingly persuasive.
My mother ended up inheriting his car when she turned sixteen. On the first night she had her license, she got pulled over by a cop because she was driving the wrong way down a one way street, in the dark, with her lights off. In a car covered with boobs. When she started crying hysterically, the cop let her off with a very stern warning.
The Nonexistent Poker Playing Dog
My uncle once lied his way onto the local news by telling an elaborate story about owning a dog who could play poker. He didn't actually have a dog—or even any pictures of someone else's dog to support his claims—but for whatever reason, the news ran with the story anyway.
Why did he lie about owning a dog that could play poker? Fuck if I know.
The Nonexistent Family Reunion
My uncle once contacted the Sally Jessy Raphael Show and told them an elaborate lie about reuniting with his long lost siblings. (Her show specialized in these kinds of stories.) They completely bought it and were ready to book all of us. Unfortunately, his plan fell apart when he told us about it and we refused to lie our asses off with him on national TV just to get a free trip to New York.
The Magic Rocks:
A few years ago, my uncle attempted to launch a scam involving magic rocks. He made several websites extolling the numerous benefits of his magic rocks: healing powers, financial good fortune, emotional and spiritual fulfillment, you name it.
The best part of the magic rock scam was his storefront. He rented some shop space and put up a sign that said [His Town's Name] Information Center. His goal was to trick tourists into coming inside. He believed that once they realized his magic rock store wasn't an information center, they'd be perfectly happy to purchase his wares. Instead of, you know, being pissed or put off by the fact that some oily conman was trying to sell them shitty rocks.
My uncle has ripped off so many people over the years. For a while, he was a contractor who took people's money and then disappeared once he'd knocked giant holes in the walls of their houses. He stole people's credit cards. When my grandmother was dying from a brain tumor and had lost all ability to communicate, he stole her credit cards, and then lied and said she'd told him he could use them. He is a straight up thief.
Most recently, he made a bunch of crappy websites plastered with pictures of his town's official seal. He put up donate buttons and wrote a bunch of copy that made it seem like they were official city pages. Why would people even donate money to a city? Fuck if I know, but some suckers supposedly did before his girlfriend stopped paying for web-hosting and the sites went dark.
Our Pretend Ancestors
One of his current scams—and I don't understand what the endgame is with it—involves a richly detailed, completely fabricated story about a family ancestor who never existed. He has written thousands of words about her, across dozens of websites. He's also claiming that we're descended directly from Jesus, because he found proof of this on the internet (LOL. SO MUCH LOL). Also, Cleopatra, Charlemagne, Caesar, and pretty much any other interesting historical figure.
Recently, my grand-uncle's wife passed away. She was quite old and had few surviving relatives. After the funeral, there was a gathering at her son's house. Besides my mother and uncle, the only other guests were her daughter-in-law's family—a large group of first generation Filipino immigrants. None of them knew my grand-aunt, and most didn't speak English.
My uncle felt it was very important to get up in front of everyone—a gathering of complete strangers who mostly didn't speak his language—and spend twenty minutes reading to them about our fake relative and our fake family tree. Mind you, this was a funeral for a woman who had just married into our family. Our pretend ancestors had no connection to her whatsoever.
Again, I don't know what the purpose of the fake ancestry stuff is. But it's interesting that my uncle seems to make a habit out of being a weird, self-involved dick at funerals.
There are a buttload of other crazy, horrible things he's done, but now it's your turn. Dish on the doings of your worst relatives!