(My parents have a rabbit named Roger. When they went away for a month’s holiday, they left him with my sister who put him in with her rabbits. A few days after they get back, they notice Roger acting oddly; not long after. they find that he’s now got a litter of kits. Mum is showing them to me.)
Mum: “He goes to your sister’s a perfectly happy Roger, and she sends him back as Rog-ette.”
(My family has always had a morbid sense of humor. It’s our thing. We’ve also known from a young age that our mother wants to be cremated. My step-dad isn’t as morbid as we are, and after a shopping trip our mom sits down next to us.)
Mom: “So, you know that I want to be cremated right?”
(My sisters and I nod, having known this for more than ten years.)
Mom: “Well, I don’t want to be carried around. I want you to either dump me somewhere or put me in a wall.”
Me: “So, not what we did to [Dog who was cremated].”
Mom: “Yeah, that wasn’t the best decision. Anyway, I read an article about how you can turn the ash into stone.”
Me: *who had seen an article about something similar* “Then we stick it in a sword!”
Mom: “Yeah… No. You stick it in a necklace. That way, each of you can carry me around.”
Me: “I’m totally down for that.”
Sister #1: “That’d be so weird; like, imagine you had your boyfriend who wanted to meet your parents.”
Me: *holding up fake necklace* “You’ve already met my mom! She approves!”
(My mom and sisters start to crack up.)
Sister #2: “Imagine if it was a mood necklace.”
Me: *grinning devilishly* “Here, hold this.” *hands over fake necklace* “Oh, see that color there. That brown means that my mom doesn’t approve. If the color was pink she would approve.”
(We all have a good laugh.)
Mom: “See, [Step-Dad] thought you guys wouldn’t like it.”
Sister #1: “[Mom], you know we’re morbid. Of course we like it.”
Sister #2: “So, who’s paying to have it done?”
Mom: “Can’t you wait until I’m dead?!”
(I’m eating breakfast with my parents and my brother.)
Mom: *unsuccessfully tries opening a jar of jam* “Honey?” *hands it over to dad*
Me: “Well, I have a device for that!” *referring to something I got from her which helps opening those jars*
Mom: “I have a husband for that, and I like my method better. But don’t worry, there’s a device for the other things, too.”
For a few months in the early eighties, my husband and I lived with his parents. They had only one television, and often wanted to watch different channels. On one such night, Mom wanted to watch a slightly raunchy primetime soap opera, while Dad voted for a boxing match.
They decided to drag my husband and me into the debate. I was working on a paper for one of my college classes, so I didn’t really care, but did express an aversion to the violence of boxing.
For some reason, Dad decided the debate was over. As he changed the channel he said, “Violence is better than sex any day.”
We all just stared at him until he realized what he’d said. His embarrassment and bumbling explanations made the rest of us laugh until we cried.
(I’m watching the movie “Secondhand Lions” with my brother and sister. The movie gets to a scene where Robert Duvall’s character gets into a fight with some greasers and Michael Caine’s character holds the goons at bay with a shotgun.)
Sister: *starts laughing*
Me: “What’s so funny?”
Sister: “That’s going to be you two when you’re in your seventies.”
Brother & Me: “Please, like we’d ever move to Texas.”
(We look at each other and laugh.)
Sister: “It’s really scary how in-sync you two are.”
Me: “*NSYNC?” *In Obi-wan voice* “There’s a name…”
Brother: *in the same voice* “…I haven’t heard in a long time.”
Sister: “Stop doing that! How did we get from Michael Caine to boybands anyway?”
Brother: “I don’t know, but now I want to see that movie.”
Me: “Michael Caine as the manager of a boy band, or as the lead singer?”
Brother: “Both. Both are good.”
