AN OLDE FASHIONED FAMILY XMAS - DAY #9

 Many people will argue that the only one truly redeeming quality of Xmas is that it is for bringing families together. Even people who reject out-right, the Christianity and Commercialism parts, and are generally un-sentimental towards the Hype of The Season, seem to appreciate Xmas as the accepted time of year to gather round the hearth with closest Kith and Kin. I haven't met their families, but I'd lay even odds that they are nothing like the crew of freaks and losers that I am related to. I fuckin' hate them, and try to avoid them at all costs. Fortunately, most of them think they are too good to hang around the likes of me (or are serving federal time) so I really don't need to have anything to do with them. Ever. Except, of course, on Xmas.
 This is the time of year where my brother David, the hot-shot attorney who made a fortune buying and selling timeshares in Florida, and who's always going on about how smart he is because he trades Forex online, or bragging about jetting around the world and how much the factory that made his wristwatch cost to build, this is his time of year when he find's it in the goodness of his heart to pick up the phone and order me to go "Be part of the family, for a change!" It is time again for his once-annual "You BETTER go and see Mom, and try to act nice this time!" guilt-trip. It is basically a demand, threatening and insisting  I go all the way out of my area, up to the suburbs and visit with my elderly Mother and whomever other losers fell out of the family-tree and have similarly been told it is their OBLIGATION and DUTY to do the same. 
  Take last year, for example....
 When I arrive to the Homecoming, it's my 89 yr. old blind and deaf mother sitting alone at the kitchen table, she's facing the wall and rocking back and forth. "Anybody home?" I sing sweetly to her total oblivion. Well just look who else is here! It's my stupid-asshole cousin Ronald, alone as well, but in the other room watching his Precious Sports Team lose, again, on TV. The volume is cranked; full blast, and he's also oblivious of me, stuffing his face with handfuls of crackers. He doesn't notice me at first, he's so engrossed, but when I surprise him he quickly blames the loud volume on my poor aged ma's poor hearing, and he tells me to turn it down, as he runs to grab the last beer, thinking quick, in case I might think of getting to it first.
 That's OK, with his fat ass parked in front of the TV, he's easy enough to ignore, so I go to chat with mom and catch up. Looks like she's kinda deteriorated since I last saw her, and she barely acknowledges my presence, let alone moves. There's a smell of soiled garments and bed sores. I go "Hi Mom! Merry Xmas, and all That!" and she vaguely looks up, confused and afraid, shaking she asks "Why are we in Hawaii?"
 Despite her far gone condition, she's actually kept it together enough to make a "dinner" for us. There are week-old tuna fish cracker things, and a turkey, which appears to have been cooked on very low heat for approximately as long. I figure the old girl could use a hand so I open a can of "Carriage Trade" brand instant gravy (Don't add water, simply heat and serve!) Now soup's on!
 After I maneuver "The Cadaver Formerly Known as Mom" and that fat oaf Ronald into the dining room, Ma seems to come alive for a moment, and asks Ronald to say the blessing, gently touching his hand and looking at him lovingly. She tells him, "I always liked you best Raymond, better than my own kids..." whence she shoots me the icy-est look of disappointment turned torpor imaginable. Surprisingly, Ronald actually rises to the occasion here, for once...
 "Dear Lord," he begins, all full of fake piety, not to mention actual shit, raising his palms beneficently "Bless this House, and this Good Woman; Salt of the Earth that she is...and Bless her son David, who is unable to attend tonight because he is so terribly wrapped up in the Exciting and Glamorous world of High Finance and Commodities Brokerage, and please keep him from Harm, and Help him to navigate these times of Unstable Foreign Exchange Money Markets and Uncertain Online Investing. Bless his soul, Lord, as we know You truly help those who Truly deserve your help."
 With that he looks up at me with eyes that would say;"...and May the Devil Shit on your Grave" , there's silence.
 "You're supposed to say Amen!" he tells me, angrily, and waits for my compliance. My Mother continues to gaze at him fondly, probably thinking he's "Butcher" Earl Haig, or something, and I just sit there. I'm having none of it.
 "Well?" he goes.
 "Fuck you, Ronald, you fat fuck" I reply, calmly, staring back at his marshmallow lookin' fat, fucking stupid looking fat-face. Instantly my ancient Mother comes to life, walloping me with all the fury of an 18 yr old welterweight straight outta Supermax. She's hitting me with a giant turkey leg and punching me and kicking me; it's great to see her like the "Old Mum" I used to know, but its getting late, and shes trying to stab me with the carving fork, so it's "good night to all, and to all a good night" and I'm out the door, another Xmas dinner done for another year, and even though I hadn't eaten, I had not a care in the world because, McDonald's is open 365 days a year, and there's one where I have to catch the bus back downtown.  I'm lovin' it!
Holiday Feast

2 comments:

  1. Reenee1:42 PM

    Made me cry a little, thanks.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Fawful1:57 PM

    Man, now I'm hungry for McDonald's....

    ReplyDelete

SPEAK, FOOL!