Mom and I were having our Last Supper at the Wind Crest Saloon. To distract Mom from the fun of her upcoming move, I went all in and pushed across the table Dad's new masterwork. It's an erotic economic thriller with, get this, a woman senator. I mean, come on. Now I've read everything!
"Reform your banking system... or DIE."
Mom scowled at the cover.
"Is that supposed to be your father standing on a heap of... what..." Mom squinted. "Are those skeletons?"
"And a sexy lady. Because women love lounging on a pile of decomposing corpses. It's pretty metal."
"Will this book be on the Amazon front page?"
I laughed. "Sure! I mean, we can all hope. I don't know if Bezos can pull some strings, but he's trying. Because people need to know about banks. And stuff."
"They now know my crimes. Ha ha."
"I don't understand what the point of this is," Mom said sourly, pushing the book back at me. "Has your father lost it completely?"
"That's what they said about Einstein. Wait. Did they say that about Einstein?"
"He's not serious, is he?"
I took up the tome and flipped through its four hundred pages. "It's a book of monumental linguistic criminality. So... yes."
"Do you want some of my mashed potato?" Mom scooped up some in her fingers. "Bring your plate over here. You're looking too thin to me."
"Mom, do not put potato, mashed or not, on my plate. Please."
"Do you want some of my salad? You'll eat that, right?"
"No. I'm fasting. I can have water, with water mixed in."
"You're what!"
"Fasting."
"Oh, that's terrible. It's terrible for your body!"
I shrugged. "I want to get back to my elementary school weight. I was a VERY chubby kid. *looks at Andy* Mm? Mm?"
"You look terrible."
"Probably shouldn't have thrown myself into that vat of acid. I'll go head-first next time."
"Tufutti break! Yaaay!"
Then it was time for Mom's big move. There were well nigh a hundred boxes with leaky shampoo wetting the cardboard and lumpy bags of wet trash. Once the movers lifted away the dresser and hutch, exposed to pitiless light were little black turds across the stained carpet. Worse than that, some were black gumdrops.
There was a pink rag on the floor. I picked it up only to see it was a pair of Mom's panties. I flung them from me like it was an IED and it exploded, wraiths swirling out. Trying to prevent my skeleton from leaving my body, I turned to see Mom hoisting a moist bag of garbage.
"Mom, you're spilling."
Turds whimsically spilled forth from the rip. Mom stooped to conquer--and picked up the little turds in her hand.
"Okay," she said. "I'm going to turn in my keys at the front desk."
"Right. But the...?"
"What?"
"Are you going to bring them the turds?"
"Maybe I will! I'm not very happy with them."
And indeed, Mom handed them her access badge, her signed intent to leave, her mail and room key, and--the coup de crap--Bailey's little turds. Goodbye, Wind Crest! I'm sure you'll miss us!
************** NEEDING TO GET SEDUCED?? ********************
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