That last post wore me out. So sick, sick, sick of That Story That Shan’t be Named, need a dose of “light and breezy” for sanity’s sake. Have one in mind that’s disturbing yet humorous, a suitable antidote to last week’s poison. Must ask a qualifying question first:
Ever walked in on your parents having sex?
If the answer is “yes”, then EWWWWW! THAT MESS NEVER HAPPENED TO ME, SO “HA”! I did hear my mother having sex once. Shit scarred me for life.
I was 20.
Lived most of my life in the Los Angeles area but I grew up in Baltimore, Maryland with Moms. Went to college for a semester and was so bored that I walked-out without bothering to withdraw that spring (…straight baby genius move, that was). Started hustling multiple minimum wage gigs. In fact, I had three jobs at the time of this story:
Cashier at Best Products (anyone remember that place?), sales clerk at a cheesy video store, and night security guard at the hospital parking garage where my mother worked. I juggled them well for the most part until Thursday when I would literally go to each job in sequence for two days. Left fresh clothes at each job, only slept at the garage from 2-6a. I would drag myself home on Friday evening, take a nap, then head out with my boys Tyrone (Sam) and Lenny.
On the night in question, I got a call at the video store from Moms (remember, no cell phones in the 80’s):
“Hey, what time are you coming home?”
“I’m wiped out. Coming straight home and crashing.”
Phone was silent for a minute.
“Stay out late”, hint of a smile in her tone.
Seemed cryptic until I caught on and yelled, “MOM! EWW, NO! I just worked two days in-a-row, I’m tired!” Damned, selfish woman wanted the house to herself so she could get laid!
(Epiphany time. Now… thinking it through… my mother might be the original inspiration on my writing style with her pioneering “T.M.I.” way of looking at the world!)
Moms cackled into the phone (I could tell she was blushing), “Just call Tyrone to come get you and hang out”. Wench hung up before I could get another word in!
Fast-forward however many hours to late-Friday night. The fellas tried, bless their hearts they did. We drove around, hung out… caught up on the week. THREE YOUNG ZOMBIES, WE ALL HAD CRAZY WORK WEEKS! Ty finally tapped-out and said he couldn’t take it anymore, dropped me off somewhere between 2-3a… thought it would be safe.
Tiptoed through the kitchen door. Listened for awkward sounds… nothing (Moms’ room shared a wall with the kitchen).
WHEW, that was a close one… breathed a ghetto sigh of relief! I had been so stressed over the situation that I forgot to eat. I was starving! Decided to make a sandwich and call it a night.
Opened the refrigerator door (plenty of light)… grabbed the ham, the turkey, the mustard, the mayo, the lettuce, the tomato… thought I heard a sound in the distance:
I remember thinking, “how odd”. Went back to pulling ingredients for my “Dagwood” out of the icebox… heard it again, a little louder this time:
You see, I can’t spell what I heard that night. You had to be there. Closest thing I could think of was that it sounded like Prince hitting a high note, and the sound was coming from…
OHHH, HELLS NO! NO! NO! NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“GRRRRR (heavy breathing sound), SNORT… SNORT!”
“GRRRRR (heavy breathing sound), SNORT… SNORT! GRRRRR (heavy breathing sound), SNORT… SNORT! SNORT!!!”
You see, my mother is 5’3″ and 120 lbs, but her boyfriend John was 6’4″ and 200 pounds heavier!
Last thing I remember was…
“BOY, WHAT IN THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM? SEAN! SEAN! WAKE UP! BOY I SAID WAKE YOUR ASS UP NOW!!!”
It was 7a, Moms standing in my bedroom doorway screaming at me. I answered as diplomatically as I could all things considered, did my best to diffuse the tension.
“LEAVE ME ALONE, CRAZY LADY… I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!!!” Pulled the covers back over my head, rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.
“WAKE YOUR ASS UP, I’M NOT DONE TALKING TO YOU!” Waited for me to sit up then continued. “I COME OUT OF MY ROOM THIS MORNING, WALK INTO THE KITCHEN AND THE GODDAMNED REFRIGERATOR IS WIDE OPEN. FOOD AND SHIT ALL OVER THE TABLE… THE MEAT WAS OPEN, THE BREAD WAS OPEN. TOP OFF THE MAYONNAISE WITH A KNIFE STUCK IN IT. BOY… WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM? YOU KNOW WE HAVE MICE!”
Not cool to pick on a wiped-out, sleep-deprived kid after those two nutty work days and only 4 hours of sleep, had no idea… and then it all came rushing back. Got an evil, payback grin on my drool-encrusted face:
“OH, I’M SORRY MOTHER. I WAS SCARED WHEN IT SOUNDED LIKE PRINCE WAS BEING FREDDY KREUGER-ED BY A GRIZZLY BEAR IN YOUR ROOM RIGHT AS I WAS TRYING TO MAKE A SANDWICH LAST NIGHT!”
Moms stared at me all confused until I saw that glint of recognition in her eyes. Blushed so hard the top of her head almost shot off! Yelled, “WELL YOU’RE LUCKY THIS TIME… DON’T DO THAT SHIT AGAIN!” Ran away as fast as she could, trail of cackles followed close behind.
And the moral to the story? Hell if I know. It’s 2:32a and my alarm goes off for work in less than 4 hours… used the last of the day’s bandwidth editing this mess!
I did unintentionally pay her back in a similar fashion a few months later. I’ll save that one for the next dating adventure.