An Old Conversation With My Dear Mother From When I Was Pregnant

My Mother: What are you doing?

Me: Eating cheese and sprouted grain crackers.

My Mother: Sickening. You should be eating Triscuits.

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

My 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.

My Mother: You can’t be serious.

Me: I have been trying for 20 minutes.

My Mother: Can’t you wear boots?

Me: They don’t fit any more.

My Mother: Slippers?

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

My Mother: So you are just going to sit there?

Me: Yes.

My Mother: Well, you’re in luck.

Me: Why is that.

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

Me: Please, not now, Mother.

My Mother: Yes, now. I need your help.

Me: What is it.

My 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?

My Mother: Oh, I don’t know.

Me: Well, look at it, Mother.

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

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

My 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.

My Mother: Jess, I’m not in the mood.

Me: Fine.

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

Me: Well, what does it say already?

My Mother: “It’s going down tonight.”

Me: Jesus, Mother, you sure have some rough friends.

My 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.

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

Me: Well, then let’s erase it.

My 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)

My Mother: Thank you.

Me: You’re welcome.

(30 minutes later)

Me: Yes, Mother. What is it now.

My Mother: What are you doing?

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

My Mother: Still?

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

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

Me: Why.

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

Me: Did you retrieve it?

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

Me: Well… What does it say?

My Mother: “It’s going down tonight.”

Me: Again?

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

Me: Weird. I wonder if they rescheduled whatever it is, or if these guys are really productive.

My Mother: I don’t fucking know Jessica.

Me: Well, what are you going to do?

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

Me: Did it say who it was from?

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

Me: Like the VA hospital?

My 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.

My 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.

My Mother: All right then.

(30 minutes later, phone rings)

Me: (chewing) Yes?

My 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.

My Mother: There was another message.

Me: And what did it say this time?

My 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 wonder if this is one of those red flag situations where you should do something. I mean on one hand it seems ridiculous but at the same time, what if it’s not?

My Mother: Well even if I thought it was indicated to do something, I can’t.

Me: Of course you can.

My Mother: No, I can’t. I already erased it.

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

My Mother: That makes no sense whatsoever, Jessica.

Me: You just don’t understand technology.

My Mother: Fine… Well, maybe it is a red flag. Maybe I should get involved…

Me: I think might be indicated, Mother. Just in case. I mean, if something does go down, won’t we feel awful?

My Mother: I suppose you’re right. 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?

My 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)

My 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 your idea of a party, then that’s your business.”

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.

-JLK