Right Before The Meal

“Hey, merry christmas! Mom.” (Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle bell rock!)

    “Jesus, you got here so quick, my god. Look at you.” (Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time)

    “A beard, long hair, I know.” (Dancin’ and prancin’)

    “No, it looks good, yeah.” (in Jingle Bell Square)

    “So, food?”

    (‘THAT’S THE JINGLE BELL ROCK!’)

    “So there he is, I was waiting for you to get here. To eat.”

    “Dad, don’t wait for the food to get cold.”

    “The food is not cold. Honey stop. Sit. I’ll be there in a minute. Gotta check the oven here.”

    “Fucking starving, ya know?”

    “No friends? Cousins? Nothing?”

    “What are you talking about? My sister’s a bitch, Amy from daycare can’t make it because her daughter got sick, so she canceled. Um, who else is there?”

    “My boss was supposed to come over, I invited him. Doing something else even though I TOLD HIM don’t. Mike, don’t work lumber. Can’t trust anyone there. Bunch of no shows.”

    “Work where you want. Okay, so let me finish this. I got no damn kitchen space.”

    “Working a good job?”

    “Yeah, uh, retail.”

    “Stil? Aren’t you twenty seven?”

    “Easy work, I can pay bills. I got two roommates. Easy living.”

    “Easy living. Ain’t know easy living-if there was such a thing then I wouldn’t have to worry about the damn bills, the damn house, the fucking-”

    “Stop! Don’t start here. Not today. It’s Christmas, and I will not introduce conflict today. No sir, nope. Now, this HAM, jesus, is finished. SO… let’s sit and eat, yeah?”

    “Sure mom.”

    “Okay, baby. Honey, say grace. I’ll pray.”

    Sigh. “Grace.”

    “Heavenly father, we thank you for this meal, we thank you for blessing us today on your birthday. You are the wondrous, all giving lord. We thank you for bringing my son here safe and sound. One thousand to my left, one thousand to my right, none shall come near us to harm us in the name of Jesus. We thank you for the easy cooking, we thank you for the support this year financially, we thank you for everything. Keep Josie and her daughter safe, in the name of Jesus, keep them both healthy, keep them both in good health. I want good things for them. In the name of Jesus, we pray, amen.”

    “Amen.”

    “Ame-so, hey, did you see outside the house?”

    “Why?”

    “Your mother bought this deer, ceramic thing. Huge, right? So anyways, two days ago I heard loud noises coming from outside on the lawn. I look out the window, and two punks are beating the crap out of the thing. So I go outside, with my metal bat, screaming to them ‘Get the fuck outta here before I such and such’, and they shat themselves a booked!”

    Micheal laughs. “It’s still there.”

    “I spent sixty dollars. It’s got a head, but missing it’s legs and some side. I called the police. Twice this week. Kids and that guy. Speaking of, you get his liscene?”

    “Yeah I called yesterday morning. Told them he was lurking outside the house, same car as last time.”

    With food in mouth, Micehal asks, “You guys got a stalker?”

    “I guess. Fucker parks by the front of the house. Caught him sitting in his car, just watching us I guess. I don’t really know. He blasts his music the whole damn time, loud as shit. I couldn’t stand it. Your mom though, she’s got some sass on her. Went outside, in only a robe. Screamed ‘Hey bitch’. Haha!”

    “He was freaking me out. Couldn’t take it. Creepy. So hopefully the police take care of it because I’m not holding back next time.”

    “Mom’s gonna shoot him.”

    “I might. Thought about buying a gun. Not something too big like a shotgun, but a small pistol. A small thing, like your dad had before.”

    “A browning?”

    “I had a Glock, 9mm ammo. Shit wasn’t much, but it did the job. Babe, you get a pistol, gonna shoot all over the place.”

    “I’ll be fine.”

    “Recoil. It’s a thing apart of weapons. Your mom’s gonna go flying, bullet spraying the neighborhood and miss her target.”

    “Yeah, uh huh.”

    “Oh, you know what? I’ll install cameras to the house, watch her go nuts. Post that shit on Youtube.”

    “Yeah okay, sure. How’s the food?”

    “Great, yeah.”

    “Alfredo, ham, steak for dad, chili, stew, meatballs. Green beans, corn, mashed potatoes, beans. Rolls.”

    “All for us now, since no one decided to show and put their efforts with their crappy families and crappy meals.”

    “No, don’t say that.”

    “Dave? He got a bunch of frozen pizzas for today. Lazy fucker couldn’t bother cooking anything. Kids are gonna grow up fat and dead from heart attacks. He’s got three kids, all fat fucks. One I think is diabetic. And it’s his daughter. I mean…”

    “They’re fine, and young. They’ll grow self conscious and grow skinny.”

    “Grow bigger. No dates, no cock. No nothing. I think his son’s gay or something too.”

    “Yeah, I think his youngest is, yeah. Cara’s daughter is too.”

    “Gay?”

    “Yeah. Saw her at the salon the other day with a tattooed girl. Pretty blue hair though. Had streaks of back in it, bundled into a ponytail. I thought it was pretty.”

    “Think she washes her mary jane?”

    “No, stop. Eating.”

    “Haha! No, but shit, you know, I think this might be the best steak here. Mike, try it. Medium rare and medium. Juicy, seasoned well. You mother did a wonderful job.”

    “Thank you.”

    “I love her so, for that. I Love her soooo.”

    “Gonna sing?”

    “Oh baby, oh woah baby. You cook this meal so well, baby. I love you oh woah, I love you oh woah.”

    “Christ-oops, sorry lord.”

    “He loves the song.”

    “Yeah?”

    “Listens to it all the time. I sing it to him.”

    “When?”

    “In the shower. He’s got it in his spotify playslist, all set to go on this day.”

    “Wow.” The mother chuckles.

    “It’s a sexy tune. sexy.”

    “It is pretty sexy.”

    “Okay, you stop. Eat. Enough talking about it.”

    “Yes, eat. I’m in. Micheal?”

    “Of course.”

    “Merry christmas.”