My cousin spent every holiday insulting my mom's cooking, my dad's job and my weight.

My cousin spent every holiday insulting my mom's cooking, my dad's job and my weight. When I finally snapped, my family said, "Oh, is am the through." Then Milton walked through the door. He didn't even say hello. Just looked at the table and said, "A turkey looks a little small this year, Aunt Heather. Family budget getting tight." My mom smiled. "We're doing fine, Milton. Could've fooled me." Uncle Steve still driving that Camry with the dent in it. My dad didn't answer. Just sipped his drink. Then Milton turned to me. "Damn, you got bigger since last year. You've been hitting the gym or just the fridge?" Everyone laughed. Not real laughs. Nervous laughs. The kind that said, "Please, I'd jabs at my mom's cooking, the comments about my dad's job, the joke about my weight, every holiday, every year, for as long as I can remember." And every time I swallowed it. Then he made a mistake. He kept going. My little sister walked in from the kitchen carrying the mashed potatoes. She's 13. Braces, glasses, shy as hell. Milton looked at her and grinned. "Yo, what's up, race face? Or should I call you Four Eyes? Actually, you know what? I'll just call you both." Race face, Four Eyes. He laughed at his own joke. Nobody else did. My sister's face went red. She put the bowl down and didn't say anything. Just stared at the floor. That was it for me. "Milton, shut up." The room went quiet. Milton laughed. "Relax, I'm just joking. Nobody's laughing." She shrugged. "It's not my fault she can't take a joke." I looked at Milton. He was smirking. That's when it clicked. They were never going to hold him accountable. So I'd have to show them what it feels like. Christmas was three weeks away. I had time to plan. Then Christmas dinner came. Milton walked in wearing the same crusty hoodie he always wore. I was ready. Before he could even sit down, I said, "Damn, Milton, you wear that all the time?" He looked confused. "What?" "That crusty hoodie you always wear." He shrugged. "What about it?" "It's just... really crusty." He looked at me, then at my sister, then back at me. "So?" "So I was thinking, maybe you should wash it." He scoffed. "And why would I do that?" "Because it smells." He threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, you think I'm gonna wash my hoodie because you said it smells?" "No, I think you're gonna wash it because I said it smells, and you're gonna do it because you're a coward." He stood up. "You think I'm a coward?" "Yeah." He took a step towards me. "You wanna say that again?" "Yeah, you're a coward." He lunged at me. I dodged. He stumbled. My sister grabbed the mashed potatoes and threw them at him. He was covered. The whole family stared. Then my mom started clapping. Then my dad. Then my grandma. Then everyone. Milton stood there, covered in mashed potatoes, and just started crying. He ran out of the house. My sister and I looked at each other and grinned. We did it. We finally stood up to him. And we did it together. The next day, I got a text from Milton. It was a picture of his hoodie. It was clean. And it was folded neatly on his bed. He even left a little note. "Sorry about yesterday. I guess you were right. I'll try to be better." I smiled. "See? I told you he could change." My sister nodded. "Yeah, I guess you were right." We were both right. And we both knew it. The end.