THE BANANAS REPUBLIC
Dear Diary,
It was absolutely mass hysteria. I’m talking the likes of which I’ve NEVER seen before. Here I am innocently walking down the hall of ROAM, slapping backs, holding hands.. you know, doing a little skin to skin with people that seldom get any. Skin. Out of the corner of my eye I see maybe a handful of staff charging towards me and the head CNA (certified nursing assistant) practically dropping to her knees at my sight.. and NOT because Helen stuck her foot out to trip over, either. AAACK! Ru’s DIL.. Hallelujah thank GAWD you’re here.. Naturally I’m starting to get nervous, because NO one. I repeat NO ONE.. is EVER glad I’m here. Except for my MIL Ru and maybe the fake Phil Donahue, who garners a great deal of pleasure from squeezing my bulging eyes fishy pen over and over with his falsetto voice delivering some pathetic rap about swimming little fishies who swam into a dam and..
Boop boop dit-em dat-em Scooby dooby doo.. they get eaten by a shark named NEMOOOO.
I dunno. Personally I think he’s been.. (makes drinking motions).
At this point, all I can do is observe the lips on Nurse Ratched in need of some serious waxing MOVING, as they begin to form words. While I’m having this.. WHOA. OUT of body experience. Like the sensation you read about, but scoff at because your SOUL is about ten to fifteen pounds over it’s ideal target weight so it’s not FLOATING anywhere. And this all happens before.. you DIE. Oh and what about the part where you see light and have a FLASH of everything you’ve ever.. eaten. Right before it’s thrown up a little in your mouth. Maybe for a bit of variety.. Selma’s bunny slippered feet might be enjoyable also for this use. I only say that because at this moment they are maliciously KICKING my leg, while COMFORTING words are being hissed from her throat. There was:
“Get out of my way.. I can’t SEE what they’re saying with your big head sitting there.”
AND THIS:
“What did you do to her now?”
And my old school fav—
“You need that scone like a hole in the head. It’s sickening me. No. YOU’RE sickening me.”
Nice. So as I’m standing there having a freaking HEART ATTACK and shoving the last bit of scone in my mouth to soothe my stomach. And oh how THAT was starting to look like not the most intelligent move. I was to my credit still able to croak out the words, IS EVERYONE STILL ALIVE? Figuring everything after a YES SHE IS would be g-r-a-v-y.
“We need to talk to you about Ru..”
Here it comes.. OK. BREATHE.
Is she all right?
“she has no..”
PULSE? DEPENDS? MEMORY?
“pants”
Well— even soooooo much better then I could’ve EVER imagined. GA. I’m so proud of you, our lovely team of ROAM staff. The brightest and best I always say (cough cough.. water.) Hand picked from a huge group (of Mario Kart winners) to take care of my precious flower of a MIL.
Ummm.. On a side note, something you guys should know about this sort of drama on ROAM.. BIG draw. People FLOCK to watch it. It’s like they can SMELL trouble over the cream of chicken soup stench and because it’s not THEM who got busted, they’re all SUPER psyched to see who it is. There’s pushing and shoving. Bets being placed, even trash talk from the sidelines..
SELMA: Do you mean to tell me, you had no PANTS to go with her SWEATER? Or you just couldn’t find the pants? Because I have pants she might be able to wear (around her ankles) if you want them. Maybe her DIL hid them from her.. who KNOWS? It’s certainly been known to happen. I say $5 on the DIL. Anyone else in?
“Yo. Selma..” (zipping motion over lips)
And being the hyper diligent well-trained staff that you ARE.. you called 911 immediately, right? What? And speak UP so Selma can hear you.
Ru had no pants in her closet. We know this for a fact. What we don’t know is WHY she had no pants and what she DID with her pants she no longer has. For this.. we need to bring in our defendant. Hey! Lady Godiva! Girl wearing the kissy lips jammy pants, Liz Claiborne denim jacket and macaroni necklace (I threw away twice). Please state your name for the record.
“You know my name. It’s Ru’Mae”
ME: Ru’Mae what?
“Ru’Mae or.. MAE NOT.”
Ahh hahahaha. F-u-n-n-y.
ENOUGH! Please ladies and gentlemen.. I’ll need to ask that we have none of that snickering in my courtroom. Now Ru, I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to answer it the best you can. WHERE ARE ALL THE PANTS THAT I BOUGHT YOU??????
You sold them.
And SELMA wins the pot.
-A
Copyright © 2009-2010 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.
Missing pants. Always, always funny. I almost spat beer.
Thank you.
Margaret.. thanks for sharing. Next time you do find the beer shooting out.. please take pics! Hugs!