I was sitting around, probably high, eating pretzels, when my mother called me.
- Mom: Are you smoking pot?
- Me: What? No.
- Mom: Danny, don’t lie to me. Are you smoking pot?
- Me: Mom, what are you talking about?
- Mom: Your blog said you were high, wearing your socks on your hands.
- Me: Why would I wear my socks on my hands?
- Mom: It said you were eating brownies.
- Me: I was eating brownies.
- Mom: Pot brownies?!
- Me: No. Delicious chocolate chip brownies. And even if I was, who cares?
- Mom: I care, you idiot! Marijuana is–
- Me: Mom, I know you’ve smoked weed before.
- Mom: Are you nuts?! I have never–
- Me: Dad already told me. He said when he met you you were a hippie Jew girl who smoked pot and couldn’t cook.
- Mom: Well your father is a God damn liar! I when I met that bum all he had was a stupid pair of bell bottom jeans and piece of crap yellow Volkswagen Beetle.
- Me: Well I guess only a pothead could find a 20 year relationship with bell-bottom wearing, Beetle driving, bum.
- Mom: He said I didn’t know how to cook? That bastard! Granted, he was a good cook, but where do you think he learned half of the recipes he knows? I taught him. Those are Jewish recipes!
- Me: Last time I was home he made pork chops. What Jewish recipes have pork chops in them?
- Mom: Tell me the truth right now. Have you tried marijuana before?
- Me: Mom you found a hydroponics lab in my shower when I was 16. What did you think I was doing?
- Mom: You’re were always doing something ridiculous as a child.
- Me: When you cut up my plants I cried for three days. I didn’t cry for three days when I found out Santa Claus wasn’t real.
- Mom: You never thought Santa Claus was real.
- Me: I wish I did. Jewish or not, Santa Claus seemed like such a wonderful man. I feel like you should have lied to me about that. When I have kids, I’m telling them religion is fake, but Santa Claus is real.
- Mom: Stop changing the subject.
- Me: Of course I’ve tried weed.
- Mom: Do you smoke it on a regular basis?
- Me: I drink orange juice on a regular basis.
- Mom: When was the last time you used drugs?
- Me: I’ve never used drugs. The last time I smoked marijuana was when I wrote that blog.
- Mom: Are you smoking on a regular basis?
- Me: Mom, when I get high I eat cookies, make milkshakes and watch movies. If I did that on a regular basis I’d be fat and diabetic.
- Mom: Well I don’t think you should be talking about this stuff on your blog. What if you apply for a job and they read that?
- Me: I’m not applying for jobs at the FBI, I’m applying to be a driver for Pete’s Taco Truck and a dishwasher at Chilies. Matter of fact, I think you have to be a pothead to get one of those jobs. If I don’t get hired, it’s because I don’t smoke enough weed.
- Mom: Your father really said I couldn’t cook?
- Me: Yeah, maybe he was high?
- Mom: Who do you think came up with that breaded chicken over vegetable rice that he makes all the time?
- Me: I don’t know. He always said you tried to cook it, but always over breaded the chicken.
- Mom: I over breaded the chicken? He didn’t even know what chicken was until he met me. Why do you think he started using butter in his matzo ball soup?
- Me: He said his mother taught him that when he was young.
- Mom: His mother was English! What Christian, English woman makes matzo ball soup? You’ve got to be kidding me. (To herself) His mother… my ass. What a lair.
- Me: Ok, well, I’m going to go get some cookies, make a milkshake and watch a movie.
- Mom: (Didn’t listen to anything I just said) Yeah, I’ll call you back. I’m going to give that father of yours a piece of my mind. Goodbye.
Daniel Dickey
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{ 1 comment… read it below or add one }
This one was fuckin funny, man! I would use this as a scene. Family encounters can be a fuckin riot sometimes!