Uncle John's Bathroom Readers Novels & Stories

As we stepped in, he gave a small nod to the first store’s attendant we met before hurrying off to a quiet section of the store. While Uncle Al ran his long hands along the books on the shelf, soft hurried footsteps caught my attention. A girl of about five years old with pigtails peered at a man who had a book propped on his face. As soon as my uncle stopped pacing, the quiet air of the room felt different. I felt like I won and lost a trophy at the same time as wailing laughter reached my ears. “Do you feel that?” “That,” Uncle Al tapped on a seemingly ordinary leather book about cooking and grinned, “is our ticket. Place your hand on the book.”

I followed my Uncle into the bathroom and watched as he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his jeans, tossing them to the corner. He placed the magazine on top. He was still wearing the flannel, white briefs and white athletic socks. His beer-belly pushed his shirt forward and away from his briefs a little. I wet my toothbrush and squeezed toothpaste onto the bristles as I watched him (in the mirror) approaching the toilet. My fit body was small in comparison to his, but I was fascinated by him.

Everyone was having a blast on the yacht for Valentine’s Day when my boyfriend, Ethan Hayes, asked me to go tell his uncle I fancied him. “Go on, tell him. You’re a lucky girl if he actually takes a liking to you! Next time we meet, I might even have to call you auntie!” Vivian Lawrence, his childhood sweetheart, was by my boyfriend’s side, smiling triumphantly. Just a few minutes ago, they had shared a glass of cocktail. I clutched the watch in my pocket—bought with two months of my savings to make peace—my heart riddled with holes. Suddenly, a line of live comment lit up before my eyes: “I’m sick of this jerk. Girl, go for the uncle. He’s the real big shot. He’s fancied you for a long time

When the five of them arrived at the Bailey mansion, they rang the bell furiously. “Show yourself, Anthony Bailey!” Anthony had seen them from upstairs. He knew he could not avoid them any longer, so he put down the bottle, washed away the smell of alcohol, and changed into a clean set of clothes. As he got downstairs, he then sat on the sofa and removed himself from all emotions he should not be seen with. He casually picked up the financial newspapers and read them nonchalantly. The butler opened the door. The four Uncles rushed inside furiously, and the sight of Anthony casually reading the newspapers angered them even more.

Joel is a physical therapist who is skilled at using body language to treat patients' ailments. John is watching him with admiration and mumbles while his uncle shows how to process applying the poultice. "He appears to be quite intelligent and well-educated. He is really attractive and gorgeous." “Are you already married, Uncle?” John asks with a smile. “Given how attractive you are, a lot of women might find you attractive. “ Elaine says, "Your uncle is already bachelor," with a little laugh. Despite having numerous girlfriends, none of them had stayed with him for very long since they were battling over him. “

“U. Uncle Ethan.” That was when my world stopped. Uncle? Could this true or I'm the one hearing the wrong thing? My breath caught in my throat. The word echoed in my head like a gunshot. Uncle… Ethan? I looked properly this time. His face was calm. Too calm. Sharp features carved like they were never meant to smile easily. He looked young. far younger than Liam and one could think Liam was his elder brother not knowing he was Liam’s uncle. His eyes were dark, cold, and deep, like still water that hid danger underneath.

My fingers trembled as I dialed the number I hadn't called in years. Then an old, hoarse voice answered. "Hello?" "Uncle?" My voice was hoarse. "It's Damian." Silence on the other end. Long. I almost thought he had hung up. "Damian?" "I need your help, Uncle. I wouldn't call if it wasn't important." "Tell me."

The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, crawling over my skin. Haley returns with a bottle of water and presses it into his hand without a word. Muscle memory, not thought, he twists the cap and takes two long gulps, water sloshing loudly in the quiet room. I notice stupid things — like how his hand trembles just slightly, how the bottle crackles under his grip, how he struggles to swallow. Whatever is about to come next … it’s been buried deep. And it’s finally clawing its way out. “There are a lot of people in that we,” Uncle John says carefully, like the word itself might explode. “Some of them I can’t name right now. For … different reasons.”

I just finished getting dressed after Warren barged in the shower earlierwhile I'm getting a bath. I heard him playing with bubbles from inside the bathroom, he is been there for half an hour, he is still taking a bath. I just explored the whole house, this house is too big for a simple minded boy. I didn't think that my uncle loved Warren so much. he doesn't look like he has a special feelings for his children. I gues I really shouldn't judge the book by its cover.

But ignoring him, I go and lean against my table as I hear noises coming from outside as the door knob rattles. I hear Uncle's rage-filled voice as he orders someone to break the door. Crossing my arms, I wait for them to break the door as I eye John, slowly bleeding to death. When he begins to pass out completely, I throw a glass of water on his face along with the glass. His eyes snap open as blood splatters from his mouth that is flowing from his broken nose. I hear gunshots as the door knob falls on the ground as Uncle kicks the door open. He steps inside and looks around the room, scanning it.