Oh No.

"I can't believe you did it dude!"
I was still half drunk from last night, but was somehow able to mutter, "Do what?"
"You don't remember?"
"No, not at all. What- what did I do?"
"Let me show you the pictures," is what I remember my friend saying as I lurched upright on his couch. I saw the pictures, and, yes, it all came back to me then. The beer, the whiskey, the gin, the whiskey, the gin; yes, it all came back to me then. And then, of course, the urination on the grave of my great uncle. He was my mother's father's step brother, I had never even met the guy. I guess that's what happens when you have friends who like to get drunk in graveyards and are goodly enough to take pictures of your "dignified" desecration of head stones.
"Wow," was all I could muster at that moment.
We ate a quiet breakfast consisting of chocolate-chip pancakes cooked by my friend's gothy girlfriend.
"He fought in World War Two. My family always talked about him being a decent guy."
My friend asked, "Yeah, did he kill any nazis?"
"No, I think he fought in the Pacific. He went into real estate when he got back home to the states."
"Sounds like a real stand up guy."
"Yeah, I guess he was. I should probably go say I'm sorry to his stone or something. My parents are never hearing about this by the way."