Family Portrait.

There they all sat, in their Sunday best. Muriel in the back with the braids, she was the school genius, with her killer spelling abilities. Not even "chrysanthemum" could stump her. Brother Jack - well, he was a bit of a ladies' man, what with his cowlick and trademark Valentino eyes. Little Paul, the momma's boy...he was still finding his way and he was finding it with courage. Ma, the matriarch, the materfamilias, she had just canned 40 jars of her prize pickled green beans. Marvin, the baby of the family, had just learned how to play a rousing game of whist.
And Pa? What did Pa think of his family? He didn't. He just wanted to get that damn boiled collar off his stinkin' neck and slug the lot of 'em.