The village idiot of Las Vegas gets told off by his uncle Ned for calling at an awkward time.

I called uncle Ned today to see what he was doing and he answers the phone like this. "Hey man, it's the fucking brain surgeon. Shouldn't you be in surgery doctor instead of bothering me?" Uncle Ned nicknamed me brain surgeon a little while back. I asked him why the nickname and he told me such -"Because that is what you fucking are. You're a brain surgeon." The moniker really started to stick after we got into a heated argument about politics and where things were headed in the world a little while back. Ned is a bleeding heart Liberal while I am a registered Libertarian. I try not to let our political differences get in the way of our relationship, but damn it is hard, real hard.

"How are things going Ned?" Ned isn't in the best of shape nowadays. So whenever I call him, there's always a surreal feeling of maybe this is the last time I will ever talk with him again. Maybe his caregiver will answer and tell me that she is sorry for my loss. Well, fortunately that feeling will have to wait for a later date, because everything seemed fine with him today. "Brain surgeon, I have been thinking about you a lot the last couple of days. And I have come to a few conclusions. The first is that you are a fucking idiot. The second is that you have got to change your game with the women in Las Vegas. It's always the same. They get to know you and then it is adios amigo." Ned enjoys giving me a hard time about always getting dumped, but hey, I deserve it to some extent, and goddammit, it's just nice to hear his voice. It's the voice of a man who has little left to lose.

"Ned, what do you think of KU's chances in the tournament? Do you think they have what it takes to go all the way?" I didn't have much to talk about when I called, so I figured I would just ask him what came to mind. He told me this, "I don't give a shit who wins the tournament, brain surgeon." I then asked him what he had for lunch. He tells me this, "I had a tuna on rye." He then says this to me in a very surly voice - "Brain surgeon, do you have anything important to tell me? If you don't, I am going to hang up. I was in the middle of masturbating when you called." I apologized for the interruption and told him that I would call him later. He then hangs the phone up without even saying goodbye.