Posts Tagged Short Stories
Every year, my mother, cousins, and I spend Mother's Day weekend on the Jersey Shore, specifically LBI. Although LBI stands for “Long Beach Island”, I always call it “Large Bowel Irritation” because of the amount of stress and anxiety that goes into this vacation, especially the hour-and-a-half car ride from our home in Central Jersey.
"Okay," my aunt said, as we were leaving, "So vhen you get to dah main road on dah island-"
I interrupted. "Don't worry, I have a GPS."
"Vell, it gets very confusing, so you have to make sure to look at the John...Ron...Surf..."
"I'm bringing the GPS, don't worry."
"Yes, the...Don...Juan, um, you make a left at the...Ron Paul Surf Shop."
"It's
Ron Jon. And don't worry, I have a GLOBAL POSITIONING SYSTEM. So no matter where we are, we can find-"
"Yes, uh-huh, let me draw you a map."
After about thirty minutes of map-drawing, agonizing, and direction-correcting, we finally got to the car. I plugged the GPS in and waited for the stupid thing to find a satellite signal.
"Vhat is that, a rah-dio?" my mom asked. "Play some romantic music, none of this other crap you...
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One Sunday morning, our pastor has a special request after his sermon,“Would all the mothers in the church please stand up?” About half the congregation rose to their feet.
“In honor of this Mother’s Day, we would like to honor our special mothers! Let's give them a hand!”
My mother scowled during the applause. “See, you’d better appreciate me! Look how everyone else appreciates me! You never clap for me...”
I rolled my eyes; I never win these arguments. “Mom, I DO appreciate you, remember that time I...”
“
Shhh!" She
interrupted, "Be quiet, the pastor is talking!”
The pastor smiled upon the rows of women, all glowing in a maternal light. "Today, we would like to treat our oldest mother! Mothers under the age of forty, please sit down.”
My mother immediately sat, even though it was a complete lie. She gave me the killer, "Don't you dare say a word," stare.
He continued, “Any ladies under fifty, have a seat..." Fewer women remained standing. "Now anyone under sixty, please be seated.”
Nagymama sat down,...
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Phone call transcription:"Anyu, what do you want for your birthday?"'
"A man..."
"Walmart is fresh out of those, what else?"
"A nice rich husband to take me out dancing."
" Yes, that's located in the same isle as 'Man', and that isle is closed due to severe shortages...Seriously, mom, do you need anything?"
"I vant a paper shredder."
"Wait, didn't I already buy you a paper shredder a while ago?"
"I gave it avay."
"Well, if you didn't need it then, why do you need it now?"
"I don't vant anyvon to go through my trash and find my social security number."
"Then why did you give away your paper shredder?"
"I vanted to look good."
"...so you gave someone a USED paper shredder?"
"Yah, so I need another von."
"Are you going to keep it this time?"
"Yes. But your aunt might need it. And then you can just buy me anodder von next year."
"Well, why don't I just buy you TWO paper shredders so you can keep...
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When I was in college, my roommate offered me her usual Friday-night babysitting job because she has a hot date instead.
“No freaking way,” I said, “When my cousin had a baby, they had to sit me down on the couch and surround me with pillows so I wouldn't break it's neck with my man-hands.”
“This isn’t exactly an infant, she’s three-and-a-half. She's much less breakable.”
“But I don't know how to change a diaper!”
“Three year olds don’t always wear normal diapers, they have pullups. Man, you haven’t been around kids much, have you?”
"I was the baby of the family, so how the crap am I supposed to know this stuff?"
“Well. It pays $11/hr. And they have all the premium cable channels.”
I was normally paid $6 an hour to serve rich people ice cream in a store with no air conditioning or cable TV. The offer sounded tempting, but I was still a little concerned. Just as I started thinking about the horrifying legends of babysitters accidentally putting babies in the microwave, the phone rang.
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On April 5th this year, Nagymama turned 97-years-old. To celebrate such a momentous occasion, I decided to make a platter of ninety-seven of her favorite Snacky Cakes® for her to enjoy.
"You're freakin' crazy," my mom said over the phone. "Where you gonna get ninety-seven cakes?"
"Snacky Cakes®, mom, yah know, the Little Debbie kind that she pretends to bake for all the neighbors."
"You know, Nagymama, she just von't eat! Your aunt cooks her all dese nutritious foods, spinach, soft paprikas, everyting, and for some reason she just don't eat!"
"But she still eats cake, right?"
"Yes, vell, but she should eat more than just cake."
"Okay, then, I'll put some brownies in there, too."
Don't get me wrong, I am a big believer in health food, but once I am 97-years-old, I'm not going to eat spinach, either. If you make it past 90, you should be allowed to eat whatever the heck you want. If Nagymama asked to eat nothing but Cool Whip, chocolate sauce, and vodka off the tanned body of...
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Every year, my mother, cousins, and I spend Mother's Day weekend on the Jersey Shore, specifically LBI. Although LBI stands for “Long Beach Island”, I always call it “Large Bowel Irritation” because of the amount of stress and anxiety that goes into this vacation, especially the hour-and-a-half car ride from our home in Central Jersey.
