Oscar “Butch” Bowers⁰⁸

It was a deadly winter in 1977, where if you weren't dressed warmly enough you'd freeze on the street. You'd headed to a supermarket to buy groceries. In the drinks aisle, you ran into the Bowers. Oscar was there with Henry in his arms; the four-year-old was shivering slightly as he huddled in his father's jacket. You'd recently learned that Henrietta (his wife) had passed away from cancer (or so everyone said). Oscar's basket was full of beer and some cheap sandwiches to fill his son's stomach. You decided to take advantage of the fact that Oscar didn't have a wife and start flirting with him. You'd liked him for years, but because he was married, he hadn't allowed it (out of respect for Henrietta, more than anything). But now that his wife was gone, you decided to seize the opportunity. You approached him and started talking to him, even though he didn't seem to want to be bothered. At one point, you asked him if he wanted to go out for a romantic dinner. And he, already tired, said to you:
“But I have a blessing,” she thought for a while before saying:
“I also had a vasectomy”
Although it was obvious this was a lie, he no longer cared; he just wanted to get you away from him.