Oscar and Dolores vs The In-Laws

Dolores blots her ruby red lipstick in front of the bathroom mirror. “Are you almost ready to go to mother’s, Oscar?” she bellows.

“Am I almost ready? I’ve been ready for the past hour!”

“Then come in here and let me have a look at you.” Dolores can hear Oscar grumbling as he approaches. Eyes wide enough to pop out of her head, she fumes. “Oscar! Did you really think wearing a shirt missing the top button to my mother’s Christmas dinner would be all right? Seriously!” Shrugging, Oscar strolls into the bathroom. He frowns and scrutinizes himself in the mirror. After trying to straighten out the collar, he asks, “What’s wrong with it?  It’s comfortable.”

“You look like a slob. That’s what’s wrong with it! Come with me! I never thought the day would come when I’d have to dress a full-grown man, I’m tellin’ ya!” Dolores slides back Oscar’s closet door and starts pushing things this way and that. “Oscar! This closet’s a disaster! Why don’t you keep your shirts, pants, and sweaters together like I do? How can you find anything in this mess?”

 Oscar crosses his arms and mumbles. “I keep the things I like to wear in the front, that’s all.”

“Good, God. I’m going to have to take you shopping after Christmas. That’s all there is to it. I can’t find a thing, and it’s getting late!”

“What about the green one,” he asks.

“It’s got a stain on it.”

“The blue one?”

“It’s got a stain on it!”

“Plaid?”

“There’s a hole in that one.”

 Scratching his head, Oscar’s eyes search the rack. “Well, what about the pink one there to the back?”

Wincing, Dolores barks, “Pink one! When did you ever own a pink shirt?’

“I don’t know, but it is right there in the back, see?”  Dolores stretches to reach it and takes it out.  Blinking rapidly, Dolores’s mouth drops open.  “Oscar, this is the pink blouse I have been looking for. I bet you put it in there when I asked you to put away the ironing.”

“In that case…” 

“No, Oscar, you can’t wear my blouse!”

 Oscar growls, “That’s not what I was going to say! What about that white shirt?  Can you see it now that you removed the pink thing?”  Again Dolores reaches deep into the closet and retrieves the white shirt. “This is that country western shirt you used to wear when we were doing line dancing, remember?”

Oscar rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I do. It looks like a nice shirt, don’t it?”  Dolores wrinkles her nose, “It’s nice, but do you want to go to my mother’s looking like Rex Trailer from Boomtown? It’s a cotton shirt with black piping on the pockets and mother-of-pearl buttons.” 

Oscar bites the inside of his cheek, “Well, it seems to be all we’ve got that’s nice, and it is getting late.  We still have a thirty-minute ride ahead of us.” Dolores concedes, and ten minutes later, they are out the door.

                                                                     …

Cruising along the highway, Oscar whistles the tune to “Once Upon a Time in the West.”

Dolores clears her throat to broach the subject that’s been on her mind since they left the house. “Oscar, I want to talk to you before we get to my mother’s house. I would like it if we could have a pleasant visit this year without it ending in a big fracas.” Oscar clenches his jaw. “Big fracas? I don’t start the trouble. It’s that dip-stick brother of yours. I always mind my own business until he starts to needle me. It’s him you should be talking to, not me! Baring his teeth, Oscar continues, “ I’m telling you that just because he’s got a degree in aerospace engineering, it don’t make him some sort of a rocket scientist or something!”

Folding her arms, Dolores arches one eyebrow. “First of all, it’s not just a degree. It’s a Ph.D.  Meaning my brother has a doctorate in aerospace engineering. Do you know what having a Ph.D. in aerospace engineering makes him, Oscar?  A ROCKET SCIENTIST! So what if he’s a little prideful? He worked hard for that degree, and now he works for a sub-division of NASA.”

Oscar curls his lip mockingly. “Sub-division.”

Pressing her hands together as if in prayer, Dolores pleads, “Please, please, Oscar, just ignore Willard this year. It upsets my mother, and Willard’s wife, Polly, feels she has to rush their children out of the room because of all the cursing. And poor Uncle Steve! He is so nervous that all he does is sit in the corner of the couch, flinching and cringing while you two argue! So, please, do it for me?” Grimacing, Oscar agrees.

                                                                     …

Oscar and Dolores arrive about ten minutes late, and Dolores’s mom makes a big deal out of not making it a big deal.

“OH, look, everyone! Dolores and Oscar have finally arrived!” she chirps.  “Isn’t that nice?” With an icy stare at Dolores, “We can start the meal now.” Glancing past her mother, she can see both children have their mouths stuffed, and Uncle Steve is reaching for a second helping of roast. Dolores breathes a fake sigh of relief. “I’m so glad I didn’t make you wait.” Her mother slowly blinks and turns toward Oscar. With a syrupy smile, she points, “Oscar, dear, why don’t you take off your coat and hang it up in the hallway?” Turning on her heels, she quips, “Near the door.”

When Oscar returns to the dinner table, he is met with Willard’s broad, dimpled smile.

“Well, will you looky here! We’re having Christmas dinner with a real live cowboy, Wild Bill Oscar!” Everyone snickers except Oscar. “What’s with the getup?” Willard roars with laughter. Clenching his fists, Oscar responds. “It’s not a getup, Willard. It’s the only decent shirt I own right now. I’ll have to go shopping right after Christmas if you haven’t already bought me a new one from Saks Fifth Avenue?” Willard drops his smile.

Mother Baker interjects, “Just as you arrived, dear, your brother was saying how NASA has asked him to lead their latest project. Isn’t that wonderful?”  Picking a piece of lint from his clothes, Willard waves at his mother. “No, no, Mom. I didn’t say to lead the project but to join the project. They require my expertise on parts for engineering and things like that.”  Suddenly, Oscar starts to choke on his roast beef! Uncle Steve panics and jumps up, spilling his chianti into the mashed potatoes. Dolores rolls her eyes. 

Willard narrows his eyes, knowing Oscar is just pretending. Oscar shifts in his chair as he readies himself for the following comment. Willard tries to stare Oscar down. Oscar unflinchingly accepts the challenge by staring back.

Willard pulls on his earlobe, “What would a school janitor do with a shirt from Saks Fifth Avenue?” Oscar’s lips tighten, but he says nothing. However, Dolores feels her nostrils dilate, and neck cords stiffen. All these snide remarks always took place when she cleaned up with Polly and Mom in the kitchen. Because Oscar is always the loudest, she blames him for starting the fight. At the same time, Willard puts on an innocent face, the poor guy being abused by Oscar the Brute face.

Meanwhile, Uncle Steve, the worthless lout, says nothing. The veins in her temples pound, and she fears she’s about to explode. Watching Dolores from the corner of his eye, Oscar instinctively edges his chair away from hers.

Mother Baker adds a little fuel to the fire. “Oh, I’m sure Oscar could find a use for such a nice shirt. Perhaps they might actually get invited out or something.” Polly snickers. Uncle Steve assumes the fight or flight position, eyes glancing back and forth. With tight lips and raised eyebrows, Oscar stares down at his plate.

Yawning and fiddling with his fork, Willard sighs. “I suppose you’re right, Mom. Even the school janitor makes friends with his fellow workers. Oh, wait! You work alone, don’t you, Oscar?”

The fuse has burnt down.

Hammering her fists down with such force causes all the silverware and plates to lift into the air.  The two children start screaming and crying as Polly’s hands fly to her throat. Willard’s jaw unhinges as Mother Baker gasps, “Dolores.”  Uncle Steve swallows a large piece of meat whole!

“I’ve had it with you people! Who do you think you are? Oscar works hard for the school system. But let me tell you this, Oscar is more than just the janitor! OH yes, he is much more! He is also in charge of maintenance, the groundskeeper, and the crosswalk guard before and after school! Sure, he cleans the toilets and repairs the plumbing when it breaks. Can you do that, Willard? He mows the football field and grooms the baseball field. Do you even cut your lawn, Willard? No! Polly does it! He buffs and waxes the basketball court until you can see your reflection a mile deep! Do you know how to run an industrial buffer, Willard? No, because you’re not even a good engineer.  You know just enough to be a good supply clerk. Oscar works alone and gets the same pay it would take to have three people do all the work. That’s how much the school system appreciates my Oscar. So if everybody changes their attitudes, we might be back, but we’re going home for now. Come on, Oscar!”

Turning on her heels, Dolores rips her coat from the hall hooks and storms out the door. With a twinkle in his eye, Oscar looks at all the mortified faces and triumphantly sticks out his tongue. Grabbing his coat, he yells to Dolores, “Sweetheart! What do you say we stop and get some ice cream, hmm?”