"The foolish carrier says in his heart, 'There is no dog'" - The Mailman's Bible
Yes, it's Sunday, May 9. The second Sunday in May. That special day female parents across America look forward to all year long. The day we fondly call "Take Your Mother To Work Day." It was started by feminists a few years ago in an effort to educate American moms about the careers they might have had had they not wasted their time having kids. To make it more palatable to those kids, the feminists agreed to schedule it for a day most of us have off work so as to reduce the chances of Mom embarrassing us in front of our co-workers, clients, customers, and those stalkers who don't yet have our home address. That still makes it a tough day for ministers and priests, though. Here's a typical example:
"Good morning. Or as Jesus once said - "
"Don't you preach to me, young man! Go to your rectory - NOW!"
Of course it's potentially tough for others who have to work on Sundays,
too. Like nuclear power plant operators.
"So, son - they actually pay you to sit here and watch a bunch of colored
lights flash all day?"
"It's called System Maintenance, Mom."
"Well, in my day we called it Having A Good Time On Someone Else's Nickel."
"I prefer to think of it as keeping a 50 megawatt nuclear power plant safely
supplying electricity to 12 million people, Mom."
"You would. Bet all those fancy words take your mind off how messy
all these levers and dials look. You could at least line 'em all
up!"
"Don't touch those, Mom! They need to be right where they are!"
"If your father were here, these levers and dials would be arranged in
a much more aesthetically pleasing way."
"Mom, I loved Dad - I still do - but in all honesty, he would have been
lost in a plant like this."
"You always did underestimate your father."
"He was a shoe clerk, Mom."
"Are you telling me that he didn't once build a birdhouse in his basement
workshop? Is that what you're telling me?"
"A birdhouse is a little different than a nuclear power plant, Mom."
"It had two holes. It had three perches. It hurts me to see
the way envy has clouded your mind."
"Hey! Why is that red light flashing? What did you just touch
as I was reaching for my hanky?!"
"You're so smart - you tell me."
"MOTHER!"
"Don't you use that tone of voice with me, Mr. Hotshot. Go to your
rectory - NOW!"
"You mean room?"
SMACK!
Fortunately, my day went a little better than this. Even though as
a freelance writer I work all the time, I'm lucky enough to work at home
hidden away from other writers, editors, and stalkers. Added bonus: Home
just happens not to be the control room of a nuclear reactor.
Which isn't to say that today was all peaches and cream.
"Oh, what joy! Another day I get to spend watching you sitting on
your duff, staring out the window."
"I'm brainstorming, Mom."
"Ha! Brainstorming went out in the '20s."
"I think you're thinking of barnstorming."
"Have you read the paper today?"
"Touché."
Six hours later.
"So - any ideas yet?"
"Fine writing takes time, Mom. Good ideas can't be rushed."
"Maybe if you tapped a pencil."
"Good idea. I'll try that."
"Now try tapping it on your desk and not your sister's head."
Six hours later.
"No luck yet?"
"I kinda lost my concentration when the lead tip broke."
"Next year try tapping the eraser end."
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you, too."
"Now get the hell out."
"OUCH! I thought you said that tip was broken?!"
"Hey, I'm a writer, not an office supply store manager. What the
hell do I know?"
And now for a TRUE STORY:
In my first paragraph today I made reference to "female parents."
This phrasing was inspired by an experience I had in the 7th grade.
Our English teacher was trying to get us to think by asking us to come
up with plausible dictionary-type definitions for common words. The
first word she asked us to define was "mother." The class remained
deathly silent. No one raised their hand. No one moved.
We seemed utterly stumped. I know I was. My mind raced and
the sweat poured as I struggled to compose a simple, acceptable definition
before this teacher - known for her pointblank ambush callings upon students
without their hand up - called on me. Imagine my relief when she
called on Debbie Pukulski instead. "Female parent," Debbie replied.
"Excellent," our teacher declared. I sighed with relief. The
best I had been able to come up with was "The woman who had fucked your
father to get you." Would I have actually said this had I been called
upon? You've read my writing. You know how my mind works.
What do you think??
Finally, MORE PERSONAL INFORMATION ABOUT ME THAN YOU EVER WANTED TO KNOW: My wife and I had sex doggy-style this morning. That is to say, she kept whimpering and clawing at the door to get me to let her out of the bedroom after I bent over to give her a good morning kiss on the nose.
(All Material Not An Obvious
Rip-Off Of Some Other Aspect Of Western Civilization © 1999 by Dan
Birtcher)
