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

OMG!

ME:  Hello, Grammy!

(no answer)

ME:  Grammy!

(no answer)

ME:  Grammy?  Oh, my . . .  Julius, quick. Call 911.

JULIUS:  Is she dead?

ME:  I don’t know.  Call 911.

JULIUS:  The phone won’t work.  I think they’re both dead.

ME:  Oh, my God.  Grammy?  Grammy?

GRAMMY:  Ha!  April Fools!

ME:  Grammy!

GRAMMY:  Thought I was dead, didn’t you?

ME:  Yes!  Why would you do something like that?

GRAMMY:  What, are you deaf?  I said April Fools.

ME:  April Fool’s Day is tomorrow, Grammy.  Not today.

GRAMMY:  Well, what’s the point of playing a damn joke on April Fool’s Day?  Then you’d know it was a joke.  Besides, you don’t come over here on Thursdays.

ME:  I can’t believe you did that, Grammy.  I could kill you!

GRAMMY:  Ha!  A minute ago you were in tears because you thought I was dead.  Now you’re gonna kill me?  Make up your mind.  Do you want me dead or alive?

ME:  I want you alive, Grammy, so I can kill you myself.  Come on, Julius.  We’re leaving.

GRAMMY:  Hey!  Where are you going?  I thought you were gonna kill me?  Sheesh.  That woman will never amount to anything.  No follow through.

Photo:  Source

CRAZY BABY

BABY:  (runs through apartment)  YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!

GRAMMY:  What the hell was that?

ME:  The baby from hell.

GRAMMY:  Oooh.  Not our usual Barney self today, are we?

ME:  Shut up, Grammy.  I’m not in the mood.

BABY:  (knocks kitchen chairs down)  WHEEEEE.

GRAMMY:  Okay.  Who is she and where did she come from?

ME:  It’s my neighbor’s daughter.  Her babysitter cancelled and she was in a bind, so I volunteered.

BABY:  (slams kitchen door over and over)  YAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!

ME:  She just doesn’t stop.  It’s been like this all day.

GRAMMY:  So you brought her here?  To my house?  What the hell is wrong with you?

(Baby pulls knickknack shelf over)  CRASH

ME:  I don’t know what to do, Grammy.  I can’t get her to stop.

BABY:  (runs past)  YAYAYAYAYAYAY!

GRAMMY:  Lord!  She’s like the Energizer Bunny on speed.  You try to catch her.  I’ll go get the whiskey.

ME:  This is no time to be drinking, Grammy.

(Baby rips off diaper and flings it)

GRAMMY:  It’s not for me.  It’s for her.

ME:  Oh!  Good idea.

(twenty minutes later. Baby’s asleep)

ME:  Well, that was an experience.

GRAMMY:  Yep.  I’m telling you, Barbara.  There’s nothing a bit of whiskey can’t fix.

Photo:  Philip Rogan

BEGGING

GRAMMY:  I saw your ex today.  He’s out in front of the supermarket begging.

ME:  Begging?

GRAMMY:  Yeah.  He was bent over on the ground, cup in front of him, scrounging for money.  Even got the cat and dog in on the act.

ME:  Oh, Grammy.  He wasn’t begging.  He trained the cat and dog to do that ages ago.  It’s the art of Street Performance.

GRAMMY:  Well, that’s exactly what he was doing - performing the art of begging in the street.  And how the hell is that gonna help Julius?

ME:  What do you mean?

GRAMMY:  Admit it, Barbara.  The boy has idiots for parents.

ME:  That’s nonsense, Grammy.

GRAMMY:  Yeah, well tell him that when he goes to school and everyone makes fun of him because his father is begging outside the supermarket.

ME:  I told you.  He’s not begging.  He’s performing.  And even if you don’t understand that, other people will.

GRAMMY:  Well, if you’re not gonna do something about it, I am.

ME:  Grammy?  Where are you going with that rifle?

GRAMMY:  The supermarket.  I’m gonna put on a little performance of my own.

ORANGE

JULIUS:  Grammy, I need help.  I need to write down ten things that are orange.  Besides an orange.

GRAMMY:  And what do you have so far?

JULIUS:  A pumpkin.

GRAMMY:  That’s it?

JULIUS:  Uh, huh.

GRAMMY:  Well, sweet potatoes are orange. And life jackets.

JULIUS:  Oh, and goldfish.  Remember when we ate one?

GRAMMY:  Yeah. It was kind of yummy. Wasn’t it?

JULIUS:  Kind of wiggly, too.

GRAMMY:  So, what else is orange?

JULIUS:  Clown hair and circus peanuts.

GRAMMY:  Circus peanuts?

JULIUS:  You know.  Those orange squishy candies.

GRAMMY:  Oh, yeah.  Taste like wet cardboard.  Let’s go buy some.

JULIUS:  Really?

GRAMMY:  Sure.  And we’ll get something to drink with our orange peanuts.  How about an Orange Julius?

JULIUS:  But I’m not orange.

GRAMMY:  It’s a drink, boy.  Named after you.  And it just happens to be orange.  But don’t tell your mother.

JULIUS:  Why not?

GRAMMY:  Well, you know how she is with all her health food crap.  She’s not really an orange person.  She’s more into yellows.

JULIUS:  Like cream corn and lemons?

GRAMMY:  You got it, boy.  Like cream corn and lemons.

Photo:  Source

NEW CAR

TYPHUS:  Hey, Grammy.  Come look.  I bought myself some wheels.

GRAMMY:  Hell, are you even old enough to drive?

TYPHUS:  Got my license two weeks ago.

GRAMMY:  Well, I’ll have to remember to be more careful when I cross the street now.  Where is it?

TYPHUS:  It’s the blue convertible in front of Alfie’s.

GRAMMY:  You’re kidding me?

TYPHUS:  I got a great deal.  Only three-hundred bucks and it’s practically brand-new.  Only has 200 miles on it.

GRAMMY:  And you didn’t ask why you were getting a brand-new car for $300.00?

TYPHUS:  I know it’s got problems.  The dealer said it was in a small accident and the owner didn’t want it anymore.

ME:  What’s everyone looking at?

GRAMMY:  Typhus got himself a car.  Got a great deal on it, too.  Brand-new and only $300.00.

ME:  That’s ridiculous.  You can’t buy a new car for $300.00.

GRAMMY:  Oh, I don’t know.  You’d be surprised.  Come see.  It’s the one in front of Alfie’s.

ME:  But that’s . . . that’s my car.

TYPHUS:  You don’t have a car.

GRAMMY:  Not any more.  It was in a small accident.  Got crushed by a garbage truck.  Happy driving, Typhus.
 

Photo: Musty Moments