Family invasion.

I was just returning home from another unsuccessful date. It was late afternoon, a very sunny day, and the whole world seemed to be rejoicing. However, I didn't share the joy. I was a few years out of college, without a girlfriend, with no chance of love anytime soon, and my biological clock was ticking inexorably. It was ticking louder and louder. Nevertheless, I don't intend to bore you here with the details of my lame personal life.

I was quite close to home when something strange happened. A boy walked past me and said casually,

"Hi, Uncle.

I didn't know him. His face was completely unfamiliar, and there was no way he could be anyone from my family. Whether distant or close—I'd simply never seen him. But it's the kind of event that sticks in your mind and doesn't let you rest for a while. I spent the rest of the ride home wondering if he might actually be someone from the family I don't remember.

The week passed very quickly, and I forgot about the incident with the boy. However, on Friday, as I was walking home from work, I saw him again. He was walking with another boy, slightly taller than him.

"Hi, Uncle," he said as he passed me.

"Hi, Dad," the other one chimed in, which only gave me a strange feeling.

The boys had left, and by the time I decided to catch up with them and find out what was going on and why they were making fun of me, they had vanished.

I'll answer your mystical questions right away, as everyone I tell my story to has—no, they weren't ghosts. But let's take a closer look.

Another week passed, and I didn't see the boys. But it wasn't that I wasn't looking for them. I was looking around, very carefully. Every time I walked down the sidewalk, I turned around and looked everywhere as if I were suffering from a persecution mania. But they were gone. I was even starting to believe it was just a double coincidence and nothing more. That was until I met my grandmother. Not mine, anyway, because she had been dead for quite a few years…

"Hi, grandson," an old woman said as she passed me on the street.

This time, I had already prepared a scenario for a "family reunion," and I launched a counterattack. I stood across her on the street and started asking her who she was and why she thought we were related.

Old women are cunning creatures, after all. Especially grandmothers, and, as you can see, even those from other people. She had a whole set of answers prepared, but none of them pertained to my question. It was as if she hadn't heard them. Despite my doubts about her hearing, mine was perfectly fine. Therefore, I already knew everything about my uncles, Stefans, Ryszards, numerous aunts, children in "our" family, and other people to whom I was supposedly related.

After this long story, Grandma said she had a lot of things to do and had to go. I, on the other hand, stood in the middle of the street, truly devastated. She named at least a hundred people, and everything pointed to them being the ONLY family living in the same town as me. The mere thought of bumping into someone every day who would greet me, ask how I was doing, and invite me to family dinners terrified me. Everything pointed to the fact that walking around the city, shopping, etc., was going to be like blindly walking through a minefield. And some new person constantly exploding with greetings wasn't the ideal solution for me.

But as it turned out, in just two weeks, things were going to get even worse. Much, much worse, and what I'd experienced so far was only a foretaste...

I woke up on Sunday morning. Or rather, I was woken by the wonderful smell of scrambled eggs. People's brains don't function well in the morning, or I probably would have had heart palpitations long ago. I lived ALONE. So there was NO ONE to make scrambled eggs. I mean, I could have, but since I'd just woken up, it's understandable that I automatically excluded myself from the count. This means someone broke into my house...

I didn't get up right away. I lay there, pretending to be asleep, afraid that there were more attackers, and that one might just be waiting for me to wake up to hurt me. It's funny how people do that. After all, why would an attacker wait until I woke up to do something truly unpleasant to me? And even if they wanted to hurt me while I was awake, it's quite logical to assume that I would wake up immediately if, for example, someone stuck sharp objects into me. Nevertheless, I lay there motionless.

After a while, however, my brain woke up. I then began to wonder what kind of villain breaks into someone's house on a Sunday morning just to make scrambled eggs?

Then I froze. I remembered the movie "Se7en." And what if someone, clumsily trying to imitate this murderer, stuffs me with scrambled eggs just enough to make me burst? I might have liked scrambled eggs, but not fatally.

"I think the kids made us breakfast, honey. Isn't that sweet?" said an alluring, unmistakably female voice.

A moment later, the body of the owner of that voice—as I hoped—cuddled up against me. I was afraid to open my eyes. On the one hand, it's quite a pleasant feeling to wake up next to someone you love... But not knowing them is something else entirely.

I opened my eyes, looked at her, judged her beautiful, and then jumped out of bed, stunned.

"Who are you, what are you doing in my bed, and who the hell is making scrambled eggs in my kitchen?!" I felt terribly materialistic. I guess I'd emphasized whose things these were too many times.

"Oh, honey... Are you going to play strangers again? Not now... the kids are home..." She was clearly suffering from the same problem as Grandma: chronically refusing to answer questions.

"Who the hell are you?!

"What do you mean... your wife..."

And after a few minutes of explanation, I learned a whole lot. I had a wife, two children, and we had a wonderful seven-year relationship. The only problem with this beautiful story was this: none of this had happened in the past seven years, or ever. I ate my share of scrambled eggs and left the house grumpy.

For some reason, I thought that if I took a walk somewhere, they wouldn't be there when I got back. They'd disappear as if by magic. You know, "poof!", a little smoke, and the problem was gone. I walked practically all day, as if afraid that if I returned too soon, they wouldn't have time to disappear. I decided I had to give them enough time. Apparently, there's something magical about it...

At one point, I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, causing the guy behind me to bump into me. He smiled and muttered knowingly.

"No, I'm not hitting on you... get lost." As if touching my butt meant I wanted to sleep with him.

I returned to what I'd been thinking while stopping. Namely, I wanted a pretty wife, and this woman undoubtedly was. I also wanted children, and they were already a bit older – at least they were past the diaper-changing age. You couldn't be more lucky...

But then again, it wasn't fair. Family can't just show up. I returned home even gloomier than before. Silence greeted me. I even had a hope that they might have disappeared. Children are notorious for making noise, but here it was complete silence. But

she was waiting in the bedroom. She was lying on the bed in a sheer slip, surrounded by burning candles. Every man's dream.

"I thought the kids would sleep over at their friends' house tonight..." she said in an innocent voice.

Her typically masculine, de-emphasized side told her to pounce on her immediately. I might never have a better opportunity. But I thought about it. It was all very clever. I'd sleep with her, a moment of pleasure, and the next morning I'd wake up among a whole gang of kids. I wouldn't be able to deny it anymore. "Yes, Your Honor, I slept with that woman... but they're not my children!" Any judge would consider me a degenerate... A cunning beast...

"Uh... Not today, I have a headache," I said, and went to sleep on the couch. She seemed genuinely surprised.

In the morning, however, I felt foolish. I'd found a wonderful woman, and now I see her as a three-headed dragon plotting to eat me. I felt incredibly awkward. I went to the kitchen, made her breakfast, and carried her to bed. She woke up, set down the tray, and kissed her cheek. Just to be safe, this way she wouldn't be able to convince me to have a bunch of kids in the evening.

"I have to go to work..." I said casually. I felt incredibly awkward.

The day flew by. I couldn't even focus much on work. My thoughts constantly revolved around my new family.

That evening, I went home. The whole house was full. But at least no one new had arrived. I counted them just to be sure. One other person's wife and two other people's children. Yes, everything was fine. Everyone looked a little gloomy. I suggested a game of Scrabble. The kids smiled.

With each passing day, I grew more and more accustomed to this family. Paradoxically, it had become mine. We went to restaurants, the cinema, and I fell in love with the children and my new wife. What's more, we're expecting a daughter next year. This one will be born, though, not just appear out of nowhere. It's for a change.

I'm only worried about one thing. Christmas is approaching, and my wife is still thrilled about the family who's coming to visit us. I don't know who the hell will be coming, and how many of them will be there.