I Don't Care What Kind of Bug It Is
My previous obituary regarding the Gigantic Flying Cockroach detailed its demise and my outrageous, if not embellished, account of the GFC’s horrendous death. I say ‘horrendous’ because 70-year-old Arlene, whom I will call Mom, chastised me about ending its extremely important existence here in Connecticut.
I will tell you the gist of our conversation, which basically amounted to Mom using 'the silent treatment' and me becoming 4-years-old again.
My mother, who has a computer but doesn’t know how to access my writing on line, enjoys when I read my stories to her over the phone. At least I think she does because she will eventually break her ever-lasting vow of silence after my never-ending stream of, “Don’t you think it’s funny?” to mildly chuckle.
The conversation about the GFC went like this.
MOM: “I think it was a locust.”
That’s it. That was all she said. I was waiting for her to elaborate. I even prompted her with MOM: "(please fill in blank)".
She said, and I quote, MOM: “( )“.
While waiting I thought, but didn’t say, “I don’t care what kind of bug it is.” And “Didn’t you think it was funny?”
What I did say was, “A locust, really? Did it get lost on its way to Iowa to ravage crops?”
And she said, because she knows nothing about how GIGANTIC Iowa is, “Why didn’t you capture it and then set it free outside?”
I thought, but didn’t say, “Have you lost your mind?” And “Didn’t you think it was funny?”
My mother’s silence often leads me to ponder certain things like:
1. She doesn’t ‘get it’
2. I’m a huge embarrassment
3. She’s moved to Iowa
4. Did she just hang up on me?
I relayed this conversation to my mate, who appears to know that Iowa isn’t part of Connecticut. So, I was hopeful that he would explain to Mom how truly lost she is.
His response, “Locusts travel in groups.” That’s it. That’s all he said.
I thought, but AGAIN didn’t say, “But didn’t you think the story was funny?”
However, I did say, “Do I need to worry about a swarm ravaging Noah’s room? Because if groups of these bugs are lost in Connecticut, then I’m moving to Iowa.”
I will tell you the gist of our conversation, which basically amounted to Mom using 'the silent treatment' and me becoming 4-years-old again.
My mother, who has a computer but doesn’t know how to access my writing on line, enjoys when I read my stories to her over the phone. At least I think she does because she will eventually break her ever-lasting vow of silence after my never-ending stream of, “Don’t you think it’s funny?” to mildly chuckle.
The conversation about the GFC went like this.
MOM: “I think it was a locust.”
That’s it. That was all she said. I was waiting for her to elaborate. I even prompted her with MOM: "(please fill in blank)".
She said, and I quote, MOM: “( )“.
While waiting I thought, but didn’t say, “I don’t care what kind of bug it is.” And “Didn’t you think it was funny?”
What I did say was, “A locust, really? Did it get lost on its way to Iowa to ravage crops?”
And she said, because she knows nothing about how GIGANTIC Iowa is, “Why didn’t you capture it and then set it free outside?”
I thought, but didn’t say, “Have you lost your mind?” And “Didn’t you think it was funny?”
My mother’s silence often leads me to ponder certain things like:
1. She doesn’t ‘get it’
2. I’m a huge embarrassment
3. She’s moved to Iowa
4. Did she just hang up on me?
I relayed this conversation to my mate, who appears to know that Iowa isn’t part of Connecticut. So, I was hopeful that he would explain to Mom how truly lost she is.
His response, “Locusts travel in groups.” That’s it. That’s all he said.
I thought, but AGAIN didn’t say, “But didn’t you think the story was funny?”
However, I did say, “Do I need to worry about a swarm ravaging Noah’s room? Because if groups of these bugs are lost in Connecticut, then I’m moving to Iowa.”
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