Thursday, January 23, 2014

Conversations with THE MOTHER v6

I get a ding from my Words with Friends.  The Mother had made her play and I just can't believe my eyes, so I grab my phone and call her.


ME: It's not nice to call your daughter a whore.  Or are you telling me you got a new job?

THE MOTHER: *laughs* Speaking of Penny. (my mother's dog who is currently preggo and nearing the birthing)

ME: Were we talking about her?

THE MOTHER: Well, we should be.

The Mother then launches into a long rant about how Penny is being, well, Penny (this dog definitely has personality) and she's not cooperating with The Mother unless my dad is right there with them.  

Then, of course, our conversation shifts from the dogs just as suddenly as it did to the dogs.  Our conversation style is schizophrenic, at best.

THE MOTHER: So after you left, your dad and I needed a rest.  We always seem to need a nap after you've visited.  I don't know why, but we just do.

ME: Gee, thanks.

THE MOTHER: A few hours after you left, your Dad decides to take a shower and then we were going to watch a movie.  

ME: What did you watch?

THE MOTHER: That's not the point.  You remember how when you and your older brother lived at home, we always had socks missing?

ME: The dryer eats them!

THE MOTHER: Well, since you two moved out, we've never lost socks, BUT! we lose combs.  All the time!

ME: Okay.  (not sure what this has to do with socks, Penny, or me...but okay)

THE MOTHER: So, your Dad comes out of the bathroom after taking his shower and tells me that we have no combs left, when I bought a huge package of them just before you came to visit.

ME: *laughs*

THE MOTHER: No, wait! I'm not done yet.

ME: I didn't take your combs, Mother.

THE MOTHER: *continues as if I hadn't just told her I didn't steal her damned combs (I did, however, take a bunch of toothpaste, but we're not talking about toothpaste)*  Well, I get mad and say to your father, "Damn that Karla! She stole our combs, and didn't even have the courtesy to leave us one!"

ME: I didn't take your combs!

THE MOTHER:  I'm going on and on and on, just a bitching you out, and I told your dad that I was going to show you, that next year for Christmas, all you were going to get from me is big box of combs.

ME: I didn't take your damned combs!!

THE MOTHER:  I know that.  After I yelled about you for a few minutes, your little brother came strolling out of his room with all the missing combs, and he laughed at me!

ME: If I were him, I wouldn't have told you I had them for a few days, let you get good and mad before giving them back.

THE MOTHER: You laugh now, but just wait until next Christmas.  You're getting nothing but a giant box of combs!

ME: Don't you think you should give that to the one who actually stole your combs?

THE MOTHER: That's what you're both getting.

Clearly, there won't be any surprises come Christmas time.  I'll have plenty of combs this time next year :)

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