This was where the men in the family were, a motley crew assembled in a large, brightly-lit den. Empty pop cans littered every available flat surface and sports pages covered the worn hardwood floors and outdated area rugs. The noise coming from the television was only faintly apparent, as colorful commentary on the game was first provided by one uncle and then another, each trying to outdo the one before.
	"Walker's such a frickin' putz. Why the hell did they trade that lineman for his sorry ass? What's his name again?" "Howard, ya dumbass. And I don't know what you're smokin'. Walker's a frickin' god. Nobody throws a long ball like Walker." Maggie smiled amusedly at the back and forth banter. The men erupted in a series of heckles and, like a group of teenagers, started flipping off the television screen and slapping each other on the back, praising the occasional exceptionally well-phrased insult. More...