(I’m terrified of cockroaches. Unfortunately, they’re fairly common in my area, and will sometimes wind up inside the house. One night, paranoid after dealing with a roach in the bathroom, I find a second roach in the bedroom. I smash it with my sandal, but I can’t bring myself to get close enough to dispose of it. I leave my sandal on top of the dead roach, and eventually get to sleep at about 4am. The next day I post online about my dead cockroach dilemma.)
Me: “There is a dead roach under one of my sandals in the bedroom. I need my sandals. I do not know what to do about the dead roach; I don’t want to get close to it. Anybody wanna come over and dispose of a dead roach for me?”
Mom: “Cover him with a blob of wet paper towels. Put a zip-loc bag over your hand. With the bag on your hand, scoop up the blob of wet paper towels. Turn the bag inside out. Ta-daa!”
(I am about to thank my mom for the advice, when she continues.)
Mom: “Then toss the bag of wet paper towels out in the street as far as you can throw it, just in case the Reincarnation Fairy comes to your trash barrel and brings him back to life.”
Me: “OH, MY GOD! MOM! WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!”
(My sister and I are heading home. We swing through a drive-thru fast food place so she can grab some dinner. She has her fries on the bench seat between us, and is driving with one hand.)
Sister: “Hey, can you fish out one of the ketchups from the glove box?”
Me: “Sure!”
Sister: “Okay, your job is to ketchup me!”
(For the rest of the ride, she holds up a fry, and I apply ketchup.)
(My brother, two cousins and I have just returned from a shopping excursion.)
Me: “So, Mom, I’ve got bad news and good news. Bad news is, [Cousin] bought the wrong coffee instead of the one that fits your coffee maker.”
Mother: “Why weren’t you paying attention? It’s always the same with you!”
(I stay dutifully quiet.)
Mother: “Well, and the good news?”
(I leave and come back with a huge box.)
Me: “The good news is [Brother] and I took care of that.”
(We show her, her brand new coffee maker.)
Me: “Happy Mother’s Day!”
(I am seven years old, and there’s been a blizzard, so school is out for a week. My dad has taken my brother and me to the local sledding hill.)
Me: “Daddy! Can you push me down the hill?”
Stranger: “Would you like me to give you a push?”
Me: “No, you’re a stranger. I want my daddy to push me!”
Dad: “It’s okay, sweetie; he can give you a push. He’s the county sheriff!”
Stranger: “You’ve taught her well!”
(The ‘Lord of The Rings: Return of The King’ has just come out to theaters. My stepmom and I are big fans, so we see it together. After the film ends, we start to leave. A huge line has accumulated for the next screening. My stepmom, seeing this, smiles mischievously.)
Stepmom: *in a loud voice* “I can’t believe they killed Frodo!”
(The line erupts into hushed conversation at this fake tidbit.)
Me: “Mama!”
Stepmom: “What? They’re gonna see it anyway.”
Me: “Oh… good point!”
This story is part of our Lord Of The Rings roundup!
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