My Only Bitchy Cousin Is A Yankeetype Guy The Exclusive < WORKING ◉ >

Because that’s what you do with your only bitchy cousin who’s a Yankee-type guy the exclusive. You refuse to take his advice. And you love him, loudly and publicly, knowing he’ll complain about it. Perfectly.

He became, in his own words, “a defensive caricature of a Northeastern elitist.” He leaned into the sneer. He grew his hair long. He started drinking black coffee and reading The Economist in the lunchroom. The kids called him “New England” like it was a slur. He called them “bless-your-heart barbarians” and considered it a fair trade. Here is the thing about Prescott’s bitchiness: it is never lazy. A lazy insult is broad. Prescott’s are bespoke. my only bitchy cousin is a yankeetype guy the exclusive

We all gasped. But then my uncle laughed—a real, belly-shaking laugh—because Prescott had, in his horribly precise way, diagnosed the problem: the burgers were indeed overhandled and under-seasoned. Because that’s what you do with your only

I typed: My only bitchy cousin is a Yankee-type guy the exclusive. I meant it as an indictment. But as I stared at the screen, I realized I had accidentally written a poem. Perfectly

I published it anyway.