T'was the night before Christmas when all through the house, not a creature was pronouncing "it was" as two words. Also I went running with my mum. Not from a killer but for fun (don't know which is more unbelievable). Mum was fifty metres ahead when some guys driving an early 2000's sports car complete fenders that screams “I sold all my living room furniture to buy this sick leather vest” flung their chin strapped faces out of the window and honked their horn at me as I ran buy. When I thought I couldn't roll my eyes any further back into my head, ten seconds later they were honking at my mum as she ran past too.
*Mum, jogging on the spot, waiting for me to catch up* (What? she's even more athletic than I am.)
MUM: Gabby...
ME: Uh-huh
MUM: You know my mother?
ME: You mean the only mother you've
ever had?
MUM: Yes.
ME: Yes I do.
MUM: Well I need your giant intellect
to help me come up with a Christmas present for her. The kind that doesn't look
like a last minute gift.
ME: Its Christmas Eve.
MUM: ....
Okay okay, hmmm. Oooh I know! How about tickets to a jazz
performance? She likes jazz.
MUM: Why buy tickets when I could just
stuff her in an elevator for ninety minutes instead?
ME: Mum!
MUM: What? It's half off on
clearance.
*silence*
MUM: Okay you’re right.
ME: Thankyou.
MUM: We can put her on hold for *insert
sickly sweet operator voice* ‘just one moment’ to the phone company
instead.
ME: Oh, much better *sarcasm*.
MUM: God, what do you get the person who
has everything?
ME: The one thing they don't have.
MUM: Which is?
ME: Nothing.
MUM: Nothing, huh? I was right kid. You are good at coming up with present ideas.
ME: Mum!
MUM: Okay forget it. I’m getting her a
gift card.
*knocks*
*knocks twice*
*knocks five times*
From inside the house: Maria! For heaven’s sake I’m almost deaf and I can hear that
ghastly knocking at the door.
*Maria (our grandma's maid opens the
door)
ME: Thanks Maria.
GRAN: Whose there? I haven’t got my
glasses on.
MUM: Mum, it’s me; Emily.
GRAN: Oh, its just you.
MUM: Just me mum.
ME: And me, Grandma.
GRAN: I can barely look at you in that
outfit, what are you wearing?
ME: Oh. Um, jeans?
GRAN: Hardly appropriate for
dinnertime. Go upstairs and change. There should be something in your mother’s
old room, unused and gathering dust, alongside the rest of her potential.
MUM: It’s so good to see you too,
Mum.
Xx
