Oh, I'll Pull The 'Brain Tumor' Card If Needed.

*** continued from previous post ***

Well, nothing could change my man-status except your mom.

I may have to pull the 'brain tumor' card from the hat to regain their respect and put the Universe back in balance. I'm not above it you know. Oh sure, the damn tumor is benign, and easily controlled, but really - does that matter in casual conversation? When someone says ‘Hey, I have a brain tumor!’ is the first question you ask ‘Is it benign?’ No. Owing to our dismal public education system the first question you ask is ‘Is it contagious?’ To which, if you have any sense at all, you answer ‘Yes. (cough cough) Yes it is. May I have a sip of your drink?’

But I digress. Back to your mom's question.

"Evidently there is another way," I laughed. I raised my hands to my shoulders palms up, and grinned a grin full of love and forgiveness, "Who knew?"

You know the really bad-ass black-hat gun-slinging poker-player from every Western you've ever seen? Mom's look would have made them tinkle. Where the hell was Stacy with some hydroponically-grown-fair-trade-organic-carbon-footprint-offsetting-bran flakes when you needed her?

Even though Robert and Jackie sat there silently through this exchange, in their heads they were jumping up and down, pointing at me singing ‘Nanny-nanny-poo-poo you're in TROUBLE.

Mom shook her head. "Let's talk about this later."

No good ever came from a sentence that starts with "Let's talk about this later." Perhaps a short solo ride, immediately after breakfast and while there were still witnesses about was in order.

Perhaps I would be lucky and a rogue grizzly would wander into the dining room and mistake my bald pate' for a giant marshmallow. I could hope.

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*** the journey continues ***