Two siblings, living on opposite ends of a great pond, catch up over the phone. Ill tidings of assorted aches and pains are exchanged. Morbid moroseness, often misspelled as ‘morosity’, ensues. Based on a true story from the Intrasomatic Conspiracy files. Written for those who enjoy listening to other people’s conversations.
Warning! Not for the hypochondria oriented! Please consult your physician or psychoanalyst before reading any further.
Gil: Hello? Are you there?
Gil: Oh! I almost didn’t see you there. How are you? I’m crappy.
Jill: Crappy or crabby? (laughs)
Gil: No, not crabby. ‘Crappy’, with a capital ‘C’. Sorry, you just caught me at a bad time.
Jill: Sorry to hear that. What’s up?
Thanksgiving: A time to give thanks for all good things in your life. To be honest, I do have many good things to reflect on in my life and to say thanks for. I’m glad that as an adult I can appreciate the sentiment of Thanksgiving in its proper context; a moment to be grateful for what you have. Over the years, however, the holiday has stood for different things, some of which I can only say ‘thank you very little’ for.
No holiday conjures up as much existential angst and ‘parental control’ conflict in kids as Halloween does. Really. It’s no wonder many kids have issues with authority and ‘role confusion’.
In the days running up to the holiday, most kids dream of toting home the sugar encrusted spoils from a night of ‘trick or treating’. On the morning before the ‘hallowed eve’, some kids are also trying to figure out how they can smuggle into their bedrooms the stuff they know their parents will most likely confiscate.
Then there are the ‘safety’ talks …
- “DON’T eat anything until I can check it.”
- “DON’T cross the street.”
- “DONT go into anyone’s house. STAY on the porch.”
- “DON’T talk to strangers.”
- “HOLD your baby brother’s hand!”
… and the requisite stern lectures about kooks putting razors in apples and rat poison in popcorn balls.