With an N in the Middle

Kegerator.

Sure, it sounds like the marriage of two of the greatest post-Edison inventions of all time, but oh...it is so much more. Beneath the shining tap, at the core of its being, the kegerator holds the fuel that makes Flynn family bonding possible.

Coors Light.

The following may seem too good to be true, but I assure you, I am not creative enough to think up a story this awkwardly enjoyable (though embellishment is not out of my realm). Names have been eliminated in an attempt to mask the guilty parties...but that does not make them any less guilty. Guilty of being inappropriately hilarious. This is their story.

I had just returned from the Irish festival, fresh from freeing my inner leprechaun, to find the rest of the family trickling in from their usual weekend activities. Mom and Dad were bringing Stella, the new puppy who just might be the spawn of Satan, back from her now weekly session with the doggy therapist (aparently dogs can be bipolar...who knew?). They also had three piping hot pizzas in arm, ready to feed the rest of the troops who had recently returned from summer pick-up lacrosse games. Yes...while the rest of my sibling exercise I down Killian's Irish Red and eat fried fair food.

After tending to some loose ends, the family finally settled in the living room for some good old pizza and television. Of course, this also meant Dad would get to put his new kegerator to use, and he happily poured two Coors Lights for he and Mom out of the living room tap.

He would later revist this task several times. This is where we now find the family, joyously sharing the happenings of their days while Dad tries to decipher the dialogue of Grey's Anatomy over the ruckus.

Dad: "Maybe I could hear the TV if everybody wasn't talking!"

Sister: "Hey Dad...P.S." and then, after the appropriate pause for effect, "with an M in the middle!"

Dad, looking at once shocked and confused: "What did you just say?"

*Everyone looks at each other, trying to figure out what is so offensive in the letters P.M.S. I, however, being clever, understand my father's dismay.*

Me: "You thought she said penis didn't you?"

Dad gets a smirk on his face, and doesn't even need to start nodding before the rest of the living room erupts in giddy laughter reminiscent of grade school sex education classes.

Me: "Penis."

Mom, quick on her feet: "With an N in the middle!"

Sister: "Penis!"

At this point my brother is now crying because he is laughing so hard. I am still playing the penis game with myself. And now my sister chooses to enlighten us with some of her educational experience.

Sister: "We always used to play the penis game in anatomy class, because we were allowed to say it in there. Someone would say penis and we would all laugh."

Dad, getting flustered: "Yeah, well you're not allowed to say it in this house."

Mom, after a few sips of Kegerator goodness, looking directly at Dad: "Oh really? Penis, penis, penis."

This sends the crowd into stitches. Flatulence ensues. Now it's all over.

Dad: "Who did that? Ugh...get out of here!"

Me: "Mom's over there saying penis, and then someone farts and they have to leave?"

Mom, completely serious: "Well, when I say penis I don't smell."

The family decides this is entirely too much excitement for one night and eventually the laughter subsides. The kegerator is shut down for the night. The spawn of Satan is put to bed. Another Sunday night in the living room has come to a close.

With an O in the middle.