Conversation with my Mother

Mother: What are you doing?

Me: Eating cheese and sprouted grain crackers.

Mother: Sickening. You should be eating triskets.

Me: Why, they’re probably loaded with GMOs.

Mother: Right.  If you say so. You’re in a fine mood.

Me: Well, I’m all alone and I can’t leave because I cannot tie my fucking shoes.

Mother: You can’t be serious.

Me: I have been trying for 20 minutes.

Mother: Can’t you wear boots?

Me: They don’t fit any more.

Mother: Slippers?

Me: I’m not wearing slippers in the snow.

Mother: So you are just going to sit there?

Me: Yes.

Mother: Well, you’re in luck.

Me: Why is that.

Mother: Because I am going to give you something to do.

Me: Please, not now, Mother.

Mother: Yes, now.  I need your help.

Me: What is it.

Mother: I have this little… symbol.. on this motherfucking  cell phone and I don’t know how to get rid of it.

Me: (Chewing) Is it in the shape of an envelope?

Mother: Oh, I don’t know.

Me: Well, look at it, Mother.

Mother: Oh, Jesus.. Yes, I suppose it’s an envelope.

Me: Relax.  It’s called a text message.

Mother: Well how do I motherfucking get rid of it.

Me: You do realize that you are the only one left on Earth who doesn’t know this.

Mother: Jess, I’m not in the mood.

Me: Fine.

(10 minutes later, after teaching Mother how to retrieve this text message)

Me: Well, what does it say already?

Mother:  “It’s going down tonight.”

Me: Jesus Mother, you sure have some rough-around-the-edges friends.

Mother: This is from no friend of mine.  I never give this number out.  To anybody.

Me: Well, I guess it’s a wrong number.

Mother: Of course it’s a wrong number, Jessica.

Me: Well, then let’s erase it.

Mother: I don’t know how to motherfucking erase it.

Me: I know you don’t.

(15 minutes later, after I teach my mother how to erase it)

Mother:  Thank you.

Me:  You’re welcome.

(30 minutes later)

Me:  Yes, Mother. What is it now.

Mother: What are you doing?

Me:  I’m eating sprouted grain crackers and cheese.

Mother: Still?

Me: I’m fucking pregnant Mother, what else should I do?

Mother: Well, I need you to set the trough aside.

Me: Why.

Mother: There’s another one of those fucking envelopes on my cell phone.

Me: Did you retrieve it?

Mother: Yes, Jessica.  Please, do not patronize me.

Me: Well..  What does it say?

Mother: “It’s going down tonight.”

Me: Again?

Mother: I don’t know Jessica.  It didn’t say again.

Me: Weird.  I wonder if it went down already, or if these guys are really productive.

Mother: I don’t fucking know Jessica.

Me: Well, what are you going to do?

Mother: I erased it. That’s what I fucking did!

Me: Did it say who it was from?

Mother: Yes.  It did.  It said, The German Club.  And it was signed VA.

Me: Like the VA hospital?

Mother: I don’t know, Jessica.  Like someone’s initials.

Me: Hmmm.  Maybe it's a Nazi group that's headquartered in the V.A. hospital. Maybe they were too hopped up on their meds to bring it down before, so now, it’s going down for real.

Mother:  Frankly I don’t give a shit if goes down or not.  I just want them to stop leaving me messages.

Me: Well, unless you want me to call them, there’s nothing I can do for you.

Mother:  All right then.

(30 minutes later, phone rings)

Me: (chewing) Yes?

Mother:  Well, are you ready for some more drama?

Me: Having a mother like you, I have learned to always be ready for some more drama.

Mother: There was another message.

Me: And what did it say this time?

Mother:  “It’s going down tonight.. Big time…”  And it was signed again by the German Club with those same initials, VA.

Me: Well, Mother, I think you’ve got to do something about this.

Mother:  I can’t.

Me: Of course you can.

Mother:  No, I can’t.  By the time I thought of calling the Feds, I already erased it.

Me: Well, Mother, guess what…  Even if you did erase it, I’m sure it’s still on record somewhere.

Mother:  That makes no sense whatsoever, Jessica.

Me: You just don’t understand technology.

Mother:  Fine…  Maybe I should get involved…

Me: You could be a hero, Mother.

Mother:  Ok, I’ll tell you what, darling. I’ll call the Feds.. And then I’ll call you back.

Me: Don’t you think you should call the police first?

Mother:  Darling, in a situation like this, you always call the Feds.  I do hope you know this.  You never call the local police.  Unless someone is bleeding on your carpet, you always call the Feds.

Me: Good to know.

(15 minutes later)

Mother:  Well, the Feds weren’t interested. They said, “Don’t worry.  They’re probably just getting ready for a big party,” and I said, “Well, if that’s how you’re going to perceive a party, then that’s fine by me.”

Me: Well, you did your part, Mother.  Now, if we hear of any V.A. German Club Massacres, at least we will know that fair warning was given!