ARMAGEDDON

GRAMMY:  Oh, Lord.  Don’t tell me.  Jules is back and you’re in one of his plays?

ME:  How did you know, Grammy?

GRAMMY:  Why else would you be dressed like that?  So what’s the play about?  A day in Hell?

ME:  Close, Grammy.  It’s about Armageddon.  Jules thinks it’ll be a hit, what with all this interest in 2012.

GRAMMY:  2012?

ME:  You know.  When the world’s supposed to end.

GRAMMY:  Says who?

ME:  The Mayans.  Although they don’t really say it.  Their calendar stops in 2012, and people are saying it’s because it’s the end of the world.

GRAMMY:  People are idiots.  Everyone knows the world will end when God says so.  And He isn’t saying.

ME:  Gee.  I wonder why?  Could it be because he doesn’t exist?  Now, I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late.  See you.

GRAMMY:  Wait for me.

ME:  You’re going to attend one of Jules’ plays?

GRAMMY:  I wouldn’t miss it for the end of the world.  You’ve just insulted God.  This is gonna be one hell of a disaster.

Photo:  Jeff Burton

PHILOSOPHY

JULIUS:  Like my poster, Grammy?

GRAMMY:  A black blur with words too tiny to read?  I’d hang it on my wall.

ME:  It’s not a blur, Grammy.  That’s Earth.  And isn’t that a great quote?

GRAMMY:  Quote?  It’s a dissertation saying we’re all a bunch of worthless nothings.

ME:  Well, it’s true Grammy.  In a way.  The problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.

GRAMMY:  You’re quoting movies now?

ME:  It does suit the message.

GRAMMY:  Yeah, well in my topsy-turvy world, the problems of three people may not amount to a hill of beans, but this is our hill and these are our beans!

TYPHUS:  Hey!  That’s from The Naked Gun.  Wasn’t OJ great in that?

GRAMMY:  Yeah.  Too bad he turned out to be a murderer.  Would have made a hell of an actor.

ME:  Grammy, we’re talking about philosophy here.  And science.  And Carl Sagan.  Not to mention Casablanca, the best movie ever made.  You’re comparing all that to OJ and The Naked Gun?

GRAMMY:  Hey, you watch your movies and I’ll watch mine.  Now get the boy a thumb tack and let him hang up his poster.

Photo:  Source

MEN WITHOUT SHIRTS

ME:  Where have you been, Grammy?

GRAMMY:  Over at Alfie’s.

ME:  Alfie's?

GRAMMY:  Hey, just because you’re mad at him doesn’t mean I have to be.

ME:  I thought you thought he was weird.

GRAMMY:  He is.

ME:  So why would you go over to see him?

GRAMMY:  I didn’t go over to see him.  I went over to see his friends.

ME:  His friends?

GRAMMY:  He’s got a dozen half-dressed men over there working on some monstrosity.

ME:  A dozen?

GRAMMY:  Give or take.

ME:  Half dressed?

GRAMMY:  And in their prime.

ME:  Well.

GRAMMY:  Well, what?

ME:  Well, why are we sitting here looking at each other?  Let’s go, Grammy.  I think it’s time Alfie and I made up.

Photo:  Jason Florio

UNEMPLOYMENT

ME:  You know, I could get used to being unemployed.

GRAMMY:  Could?  Seems you have.

ME:  Funny, Grammy.  But it’s really nice not being slave to a job you go to for no other reason than to make money.  This is real freedom, waking up and knowing you  can do whatever you want.

GRAMMY:  Yeah, if doing what you want is sitting around the house all day.

ME:  I don’t sit around the house all day.

GRAMMY:  You’re right.  You don’t. You sit around my house all day.

ME:  Well, what else am I supposed to do?  I am on unemployment.

GRAMMY:  Go volunteer somewhere.  Climb a mountain.  Do something exciting or interesting instead of sitting on your ass all day.

ME:  You know, Grammy, I think you’re right.  I’ll see you later.

GRAMMY:  Where are you going?

ME:  Shopping.  I think it’s time I splurged a bit on myself.

GRAMMY:  Of course.  What else is an unemployment check for?

ME:  I’ll buy a new outfit or two, and maybe even a new clothes dryer. The old one has been shrinking my clothes lately.  See ya.

GRAMMY:  Lord, a new dryer.  What she really needs is a mirror.

MUSIC LESSON

ME:  Grammy?  What’s snowflake doing outside?

GRAMMY:  Looks to me like she’s sucking up to Alfie’s dog.  You’d think the dumb dog would bite her head off.

ME:  How did she get out there?

GRAMMY:  I let her out.

ME:  Why?  She’s a house cat.  She could get lost.  Or hit by a car.  I’m going out and getting her.

GRAMMY:  Sorry.  You can’t.

ME:  Why not?

GRAMMY:  You might get mugged or hit by a car.  Maybe an airplane will fall out of the sky right on top of you.

ME:  You’re being ridiculous, Grammy.

GRAMMY:  Gee, no kidding?

ME:  I’m not that bad.

GRAMMY:  No.  You’re worse.  Now leave the damn cat alone.

ME:  But what if she doesn’t come . . . ?  Oh!  I get it.  You’re teaching me a lesson in that warped way of yours.  It’s like that Sting song.  If you love someone, set them free!

GRAMMY:  No.  It’s like the Guns ‘N Roses song.  I used to love her, but I had to kill her.  The damn cat has scratched the hell out of all my furniture and she isn’t setting foot in here again.

BELLY BUTTONS

JULIUS:  Whatcha doing, Grammy?

GRAMMY:  Just looking for something.

JULIUS:  Looking for what?

GRAMMY:  Oh, never mind.  What are you doing?

JULIUS:  Looking at my belly button.

GRAMMY:  Your belly button?

JULIUS:  Uh, huh.  Typhus has an outie.  I have an innie.  What do you have?

GRAMMY:  Ha!  I haven’t seen my belly button in years, boy.  I’m afraid to look.

JULIUS:  What’s it for?

GRAMMY:  What’s it for?  It’s for people to stick their fingers in.  You know, like you do with your ears and your nose.

JULIUS:  But what if you have an outie?

GRAMMY:  Well, then you get to push it in and out like a button.

JULIUS:  Why?

GRAMMY:  Why?  Well, why are you poking around at it now?

JULIUS:  I don’t know.  Something to do.

GRAMMY:  Well, there you go.  Sometimes, you just have nothing to do and your belly button is always handy.

JULIUS:  You’re so smart, Grammy.  You know everything.

GRAMMY:  Yeah, except for what the hell I came out here looking for.

EASTER RAT

JULIUS:  Mom!  Grammy!  Look what Typhus gave me.

ME:  A rat?

TYPHUS:  It’s not just any rat.  It’s the Easter Rat.

GRAMMY:  Don’t you mean Easter Bunny?

TYPHUS:  No.  The Easter Bunny’s dead.  The rat killed him.

GRAMMY:  Oh, Lord.

TYPHUS:  It’s true.  My Mom told me.  That’s why I stopped getting Easter baskets when I was six.  The Easter Rat ate the Easter Bunny.

GRAMMY:  Yeah?  So who’s delivering Easter baskets now?

JULIUS:  Nobody.  That’s why I never got one.

ME:  Julius, you never got a basket because . . .

GRAMMY:  Because Typhus is right.  The rat ate the bunny.  Now why the hell do you want to keep a killer rat?

JULIUS:  Someone has to.  Or else he might go out and kill other bunnies.

TYPHUS:  Yeah. It’s like rat jail, Grammy.

JULIUS:  Come on, Typhus.  Let’s go out and play with him.

GRAMMY:  Well, that was one hell of a story, huh?  It explained why the boy doesn’t get a basket, and makes him feel important, too.  He’s saving bunnies from a killer rat.

ME:  I don’t believe you.  Or Typhus.

GRAMMY:  Yeah, well, Julius did.  That Typhus is going to make a great politician some day.

Photo:  Renat Martov