Monday, May 23, 2011

Breaking News: Parents Raptured To Death By Baby Screams

Morning Readers,

     Did you hear Arnold Schwarzenegger is a dirty, old man? I did, only because it was all over the news like hot butter on a bald cat (or Dippin Dots on a sun-burned dog, but I'm not sure which). And it's all horrible and the general public laments as another pair of celebrities divvy-up a gazillion dollars, and yada yada yada. Well, what about the rest of us that were left behind after the Rapture?

Oh, wait...


     - A member of my imaginary staff just informed me that there wasn't a Rapture and that I'm sitting alone because I usually do while I write...(Note to self: Cancel Amazon order of 80 cans of Spam and value-pack of stun guns...you don't need the "bonus Febreze coupon" that bad) -

     At any rate, while the news was expounding on the Cheat-i-nator's exploits, not once did I receive a courtesy call from any of the news stations. i.e.."Mrs. Kellerman, this is Anderson Cooper, how are things? Uh huh. Uh huh...so you say they're moaning and milling around? Food dripping from their mouths?....Tried to slap your dog? Hmm...Yes, I could see how a 'direct jowl punch' could be harmful.We'll send a crew out, right away."
     This weekend, things around the split-level were shaky, at best. If you haven't seen it, there's a wonderful scene in the film Awakenings where, after all the comatose mental patients have been given large amounts of a certain drug, they "awaken" and are all simultaneously milling about, poking at things, and in general, trying to figure out what the heck's going on. None of the orderlies can get them to do anything they want them to, and then Robin Williams takes them to a circus or something...a park?..who knows..

Good news: My kids execute an Oscar-caliber reenactment of this scene.
Bad News: My kids aren't actors.

     In my professional-not-really-but should-be opinion, the whining was the worst part. There's something about the fine whine of a baby that makes it both distinct, much like a delightful Cabernet, and yet, horrific, as in, "I swear if I hear that sound one more time, Albert, I think I might strap on those brand new, white tennis shoes and drink the kool aid before the comet gets here."... But we had to endure it anyway.
     By last night, I'd completely given up, evidenced by my taking refuge on the couch while lamely poking sweet potatoes at passing babies, all the time, the whining and the crying reaching unbearable levels. Husband and I passed a few desperate looks between each other because, deep down, we knew no one was coming to save us.
     After they'd been put to bed, we hashed out the reasons we were being tortured:
Had one of us stolen a gold dubloon and not given it back?
Had we opened an ancient, wooden box given to us by a shop keeper in China Town and fed them after midnight?
Was it possible we'd talked to our future selves after Doc Brown specifically told us not to?

     No...but we agreed that possibly teething was the culprit and that maybe teeth are overrated. At any rate, where was the news coverage? There may have been a fake Rapture brewing and politicians defining the proper meaning of "professional relationship", but where was the press when two, innocent parents were being "whined to death" in their own home? Regular people have traumas too, MSN.
 
    Ok, they'll be up any minute...must. find. hiding. spot...

Until Next Time Readers!