Friday, December 26, 2014

Waiting For Christmas

MOM: (giving up again) Nothing to be done.

ME: (advancing with Christmas gifts) Merry Christmas, Mom! Are you all right?

MOM: The toilet backed up again. I guess I put too many baby wipes in there.

ME: Put too many babies...?

MOM: I was in there mopping up all the water. And then the bird seed got wet, along with Mewy's poop.

ME: (dropping sack of Cuties) I brought you oranges, and... What's that smell?

MOM: I'm so tired. I'm just so tired.

ME: You must go on, Mom. Merry Christmas...?

MOM: Did you remember to bring the crab cakes?

ME: No, I forgot them. Shoot.

MOM: And these are Cuties! I hate Cuties! I wanted the Halos. Didn't they have any at the store?

ME: A urine smell, I think.

MOM: (groaning) I feel like I slept in a ditch.

ME: How's your knee?

MOM: I can't believe you didn't remember the crap cakes.

ME: The what cakes...?

MOM: I least we have a roast.

ME: Mom, there's smoke!

MOM: That mop is useless for all that toilet stuff, I tell you.

ME (running into kitchen, slips in toilet water that has leaked into kitchen) Arrgh!

MOM: (disinterested) Careful.

ME (getting oven door open as smoke belches out): The meat is done!

MOM: I'm not hungry. Can you buy me a new mop?

ME: Oh. It's really dark in here. Can't you fix that lamp?

MOM: That was your grandmother's lamp. It's sixty years old, at least.

ME: But does it work? I can barely see and... (coughs)... the smoke!

MOM: Don't be a baby.

ME: I can't go on like this.

MOM: We must wait for your brother to call. He was supposed to call an hour ago. He said he'd get me a new mop ages ago.

ME: I can't breathe. Will that window open?

MOM: I wish my clothes weren't so wet now... that stupid toilet...

ME: I smell pee. Where's that pee smell coming from?

MOM: I think the roast is done. Can you check on it?

ME: It was on fire. I poured diet Shasta on it.

MOM: It's ready, then.

ME: I'm not eating it.

MOM: Why hasn't your brother called?

ME: I'm leaving.

MOM: I can't go on.

ME: I'm leaving.

MOM: I want a new mop. I good one, for toilets.

ME: The smoke... the pee...

MOM: That was your grandmother's lamp.

ME: Why don't we hang ourselves?

MOM: Your brother is going to call.

ME: And what then?

MOM: Everything will be fine.

ME: I'm leaving.

MOM: I hate these Cuties. They aren't real oranges.

ME: Do you want me to show you how to play chess?

MOM: Yes, that will help, I suppose.

ME: Good. Your move.

MOM: There's no board.

ME: True.

MOM: What piece is this?

ME: That's a Cutie.

MOM: Darn thing.

ME: The rook has a turret of a castle. That's how you remember.

MOM: A turd of a castle?

ME: Yes. Like Prince Charles.

MOM: Have another Cutie. Too bad about the roast.

ME: I'm not Kobayashi.

MOM: Nothing to be done.

ME: I'm leaving.

MOM: Nothing...

ME: Where's a rope, at least.

MOM: There's my phone!

ME: It's ringing!

MOM: Where's the lamp? I can't see...!

ME: Is that the dog?

MOM: You stepped on a Cutie.

ME: It stopped.

MOM: Are you leaving?

ME: Yes.

MOM: Okay.

ME: I'm leaving.

MOM: Okay.

Neither move.