Heaven knows I'm miserable now

Everyone in Milborough knows my uncle's an idiot now. I hate hockey. Uncle Arne came over this weekend so my father could start doing his taxes, and yesterday morning they watched the gold medal game on television. Uncle Arne wasn't even drunk and he insisted that my father drive around town with a Swedish flag on the car. My mother was smart and started doing laundry in the basement right then, so I had to go with them. I got out of the car at a stoplight when Arne wasn't looking and went to Tim Horton's and called my mother. She told me to wait there and she'd get me. When I was waiting by the Tim Hortons some stupid photographer came up and got a picture of me and some other people next to what turned out to be my uncle's car, with the Swedish flag. I hate my relatives.
On the way back home my mother said, "Miranda Anderson tells me that you're in the drama club with her son. Did you scare the poor boy?" I said no, but it seems that Mrs. Anderson told my mother at the clinic that I did, and I didn't know at first who she was talking about until I remembered that the only guy in the club named "Duncan" was the one who came in late.