"Zach."
He barely paused. "What."
His sister frowned at him from across the table. "Don't hog all the sour cream."
There was a stock response to that, too. "Fuck you, get your own."
"Zach!" His mother admonished. It had taken a few years, but she was back to alternately guilting him about his "lifestyle choices" and suffocating him with maternal love, with the occasional head-slap thrown in. Chrissy's interruption had cut her off in the middle of a monologue about their cousin Adam and his new medical practice, and how it wasn't too late for him to go to medical school, since he was always so good at science, and he'd have plenty of time for it since he still wasn't working. "You will not cuss at my table. Chrissy, there's another container in the fridge, you can get it."
Chrissy's nostrils flared in indignation. Zach's other sister and her fiancée froze like statues, waiting for the reaction. Roger had been around long enough to know what to expect. "This isn't fair! Just share with me, you selfish asshole!" She made a grab for the bowl, but he pulled it out of her reach.
He knew exactly where to strike. "You sure, Chris? Moment on your lips, you know—"
She threw her napkin down and dragged him to the floor, trying to aim the blows at his stomach as he laughed and wrestled her arms down. Their mother jumped up, screaming, as she tried to pull them apart. Tabby pushed Roger's arm, imploring him to do something as Zach cackled like a maniac and wrestled a wedgie on his sister as he dodged her blows.
There hadn't been a Hanukkah fight like this in years. It was long overdue.