Thursday, June 26, 2008

My Weekends with Kevin

“Why’d you call Mommy a whore, Daddy? She said you’re always calling her bad names.”

“Kevin, Kevin, Kevin…that’s exactly what a whore would say. And ‘whore’ isn’t a bad name, necessarily; it’s just a noun.”

“What’s that?”

“A noun is a person, place or thing: like this house; that TV over there; and your mom, the whore.”

“Oh. But what does whore mean?

“It means…someone who likes to have lots of sex in a lot of complicated positions with a lot of guys who aren’t me.”

“Sex? What’s that?”

“Ask your mom. She’s the expert.”

* * *

“What’s divorce, Daddy? Mommy said you guys are getting a divorce.”

“Oh, my God—what’s that over there?!”

* * *

“Daddy, nobody told me what sex means yet!”

“You know that thing Rex does when he grabs hold of your leg with his front paws and then moves his butt back and forth real fast?”

“It’s funny when he does that.”

“Yeah, he’s trying to have sex with you.”


“It’s what dogs do when they get the urge.”

“So Mommy’s like a dog…with an urge?

“Okay, now you’re just twisting my words around.”

“But I—”

“Hey, next time you see her, ask her why she humps like a thousand different guys a year. Ooh, ask her about ‘doggy style,’ too; she loves that.”

“What does hump mean?”

“It’s just another word for what Rex does to your leg.”

“Is Rex a whore?”

“Well, if he is, he can’t help it.”

“Maybe Mommy can’t help it either.”

“Yeah, okay, Dr. Phil.”

* * *

“Mommy said she’s with a really great guy now, Daddy. His name’s Don and he’s a missionary, and she’s really, really happy. Really happy, she said.”

“Missionary, huh. I suppose you know what that means?”

“Mommy said it means he’s religious.”

“Well, some people are pretty religious about it.”

“She wants you to know that he’s her McDreamy, too. And he likes to do that thing you never did very much, but he does…a lot. What’s a McDreamy, Daddy?”

“Remember that scary movie I let you watch, where that monster popped out of that guy’s chest and then got big really fast and went around eating everybody on the spaceship? And then, near the end of the movie, that woman was in just her underwear and I kept hitting rewind over and over, and then I told you to hurry up and go to bed and not come back?”

“That movie gave me nightmares.”

“Yeah, next time we watch it we’ll have to blindfold you or something.”

“But I won’t be able to see.

“You’ll still be able to hear everything, though. It’ll be just like with those other movies I sometimes watch. Anyway, that monster was a McDreamy.”

“But…Don doesn’t look anything like that monster.”

“Of course not—not during the daytime…when you’re awake and perfectly safe. It’s only at night that he—well, never mind; I’m sure you’ll be fine.

* * *

“Mommy said you guys aren’t very nice parents to be teaching me ‘whore’ and ‘sex’ and ‘bastard,’ and that she’s really sorry about it and you should be, too.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re Mom’s right, Kevin, and actually pretty smart for—”

“For a whore?”

“No. No, Kevin. Don’t laugh.”

“How come you can laugh, though?”

“I’m not laughing. Because what you said wasn’t funny. That was a cough. I must be allergic to Rex. God, your laugh’s making me laugh. Cough, I mean. Stop laughing. Me stop? I’m trying…. Oh, God. Oh, man. Say it again, just like you said it.”

* * *

“Daddy, why’d I see Mommy come out of your bedroom this morning and then sneak out the front door?”

“That was her?”


“You sure? Because I, uh—I thought it was somebody else. Like, a complete stranger.”

“No, it was Mommy.”

“Huh. I don’t know; maybe she was lost.”

“Are you guys getting back together…?”


Saturday, April 19, 2008

The Story of the Signs and the Buckets

Early this afternoon, as I was driving away from the movie theater and not at all trying to forget Sarah Marshall, I was accosted by a gang of lowland Baptists in pastel T-shirts and matching shorts, some of them holding up signs and others holding up green plastic buckets. Buckets of what? I wondered. Pig entrails, maybe? Some form of protoplasmic goo? A glance at one of their signs told me they were seeking donations for some sort of "Baptist Youth" shindig, and I became frightened.

The stoplight was red, and my heart started pounding as they swarmed around my car like angry--or at least overeager--hornets. Will I ever see home again? I wondered. Will I be forced to tell them that I have no money, even though I do have money? Could I run over one of them and somehow get away with it?

Suddenly, one of their guys held a bucket up to my window as one of their girls--on the opposite side of my car--held up a sign, and they both began to speak. I couldn't really make out what they said, however, because my windows were closed and also because I was chanting loudly to myself, "Everything's gonna be fine, Jason; just don't look into their eyes."

I thought of something I might drop into the bucket, but it had nothing to do with money. I looked from the sign to the bucket and back, as if I were confused, and then, to my great relief, the stoplight turned green, and I sped off toward the roaring safety of the highway.

I glanced back and saw that the small red car behind me had been surrounded and wasn't moving anymore. I heard a few plaintive honks, and then nothing (there were signs and buckets everywhere). I knew then that whoever had been driving that red car was dead...or at least short a few bucks.

"Goodbye, poor soul," I said, and then I hurried home to finish what was left of the Panera sandwich I'd put in the fridge yesterday.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Two Movies You Might Not Have Seen That You Probably Should See, Because Seeing Is Believing

1. "Gone Baby Gone": This marked Ben Affleck's directorial debut, and, as far as I could tell, he got everything right.

2. "The Brave One": It's like Death Wish, only with Jodie Foster and a bit more depth. I'm not knocking Death Wish; Death Wish rocked; but this film seemed more fulfilling, and a few times I found it veering in directions I just didn't expect (which was nice). Also, Terrence Howard is always good.

Saturday, January 5, 2008

O. J. Simpson's Favorite Drinking Games, in His Own Words

I’m gonna throw this knife up in the air and whoever it lands in has to drink.

If I can barely fit into these gloves and still kill someone, then I have to drink.

All the good-lookin’ blonde women have to drink until I say stop.

No drinking this time; I’m just gonna stab someone.