From the Marcheesi household in West Chester, PA during the afternoon of 8/28/11.  We see the dad, Sal Marcheesi, sitting in his recliner, staring at a blank flat screen TV in the living room.  His teenage son Vito is staring at a blank TV in the family room.  Teenage daughter Carla is sitting at the kitchen table, staring wondrously at her dead cell phone and mom Dina is pacing around the house.

 

DINA:  Well, the worst of the storm is over and I think we should all be counting our blessings that one of those trees in the backyard didn’t fall on the house!

SAL (pointing remote at the flat screen):  What the hell?

VITO:  Something…

CARLA:  Why isn’t anyone…

DINA:  Listen, everybody…

SAL:  What is wrong with this?

VITO:  Something’s not right with the Xbox.

CARLA:  …texting me back?

DINA:  LISTEN, EVERYBODY!  We lost power!  How many times do I have to say it?  Vito?  Get in here!  Carla!  Come in the living room.  Yes, gather round.

SAL:  Something’s wrong with this remote.  I just replaced the batteries.  Madonn’!

DINA:  Sal, stop it!  We lost power and we should feel very fortunate that nothing else happened.  We had no water in the basement, we had no trees fall on the house…

CARLA:  No one’s texting me back.

DINA:  Because your phone is dead, honey!  No electricity, therefore you’re not able to charge it!  Let’s use this opportunity to spend some quality family time together.

SAL:  Hey!  Who the hell are you?! 

DINA:  That’s your son…Vito.

SAL:  He’s blocking the TV!

VITO:  I’m your son, Dad!

SAL:  Yeah?  You know how to turn the TV on?

VITO:  If I did, I’d be playing Portal 2 on my Xbox right now on the family room TV.

CARLA:  I know no one’s texting me back because Debbie probably told all the other cheerleaders that I didn’t like Christy’s nose ring so they’re probably all ignoring me behind my back, like, this totally sucks!

SAL:  I’m missing the Phillies game.

DINA:  Phillies were rained out, your phone is dead…we have no power!!!  Let’s sit here and have a family discussion.  Let’s try communicating with one another!  Remember that?  Think we can all talk with one another for once?

VITO:  I wonder if Josh has power at his house.  At least he has a Wii.

SAL:  You!  Yeah, you!

CARLA:  I’m your daughter, Dad.

SAL:  You got a TV in your room? 

CARLA:  Yes, but…

SAL:  Does it have a remote?

DINA:  This family is stunad.

CARLA:  I have to go to Christy’s house.  I need to tell her that I like her nose ring.

VITO:  I’m going to Josh’s.

SAL:  I can’t understand why this damn TV won’t work.

DINA:  Fine.  FINE!  Everyone act stupid!  We finally have an opportunity to sit here and actually carry on a real conversation where we’re not distracted by TV, computers, cell phones and video games!  But if you guys want to ignore me and carry on with your pathetic addictions to your soul-sucking electronic devices, go ahead!  See if I care!  I’ll be up in my bedroom!!!  (She storms off.)

CARLA:  What’s with her?

VITO:  Why is she so angry?

SAL:  Dunno.  You’d think she’d be in a good mood.

CARLA:  Why?

SAL:  Even with the loss of electricity, her favorite little device still works.  It runs on batteries!

 

The studio audience lets out a gasp then laughs and applauds.  Sal, Vito and Carla all laugh as they high five one another.  Freeze scene and roll end credits as cheesy 80’s sounding sitcom music is heard.

The Alston household in January 2010:

DAD:  Ah, let’s all sit here on the couch and relax.

ANNIE:  Can we watch some TV, Mommy?

MOM:  Well, now that the holidays are over I’m thinking it’s a good time to see what needs to be done around the house…

BILLY:  Can we watch the last season of Lost so we’ll be caught up by the season premiere?

MOM:  OK, Billy. 

 

The Alston household in April 2010:

MOM:  I put together a “Spring To Do” list, honey.  I only have 15 items on it.  We should really paint the basement, dear.  The kids have really marked up the walls.

BILLY:  Yeah…like that dark spot on the wall next to the couch didn’t come from Uncle Larry’s sweaty forehead when you guys were playing “tackle charades” last Thanksgiving.

DAD:  Why paint it?  We’re not having any big party anytime soon.  Let’s all sit here on the couch and relax.

ANNIE:  Can we watch American Idol?

 

The Alston household in July 2010:

MOM:  That door threshold going into the garage is really beat up.  Can you replace it?

DAD:  Can’t you see I’m finally relaxing?

MOM:  The back gutter needs to be fixed, we need to clean up the kitchen pantry, the entire side of the house needs weeding and the garage is a mess.  Didn’t you say you were going to put up new shelves in there so we can organize?

ANNIE:  But you said we could watch Glee tonight!

MOM:  As long as we get these things done by Thanksgiving.  You know we’re having 25 people this year.

DAD:  Sit down!  Relax!  It’s July!

 

The Alston household in September 2010:

MOM:  I just printed a “Fall To Do” list.  There are 37 items on the list.  They include the 15 from the “Spring To Do” list.

DAD:  Last I heard Thanksgiving was still two months away.

BILLY:  And Man Vs. Food is on!

ANNIE:  C’mon, Mommy!  Sit down and relax!

DAD:  What’s the rush?

 

The Alston household in November 2010, 11 days before Thanksgiving:

DAD:  If you would stop pestering me, I can finish with this door threshold!

MOM:  You haven’t even started!  And that’s not a door threshold in your hand.  That’s the cupola above the garage!

DAD:  I thought it needed replacing.  Hope it doesn’t rain today.

MOM:  The cupola’s not even on the list!!!  Why would you replace it now??

DAD:  It broke.  (Uncomfortable pause)  It broke when I bumped into it while I was up there blowing the leaves out of the gutters.

MOM:  We don’t have a leafblower!

DAD:  Which is why my lungs are killing me! 

MOM:  And you haven’t even started the basement yet!

DAD:  Basement’s a cinch.  Needs to be painted.  Done deal.

MOM:  Have you moved the furniture to the center of the room?  Have you filled in the 200 nail holes in the trim?  Have you spackled the walls and sanded?  How are you going to finish it in time???

DAD:  Billy and Annie are going to help!

MOM:  Billy just put a hole the size of my fist in the wall trying to move the furniture!

DAD:  So I’ll spackle it!

MOM:  The gutter’s hanging off the back! 

DAD:  I’ll spackle that, too!

MOM:  I still need you to help me repaper the pantry shelves!

DAD:  Don’t even start that project!

MOM:  The shelves are out and I already ripped off the paper!

DAD:  Where’s the spackle?

BILLY:  Dad?  Annie made me spill the paint all over the basement carpet.

DAD:  WHAT?!  How did she make you do that?

BILLY:  She was flicking spackle at me and I tripped.

MOM:  And you’re tracking the paint into the kitchen???  TAKE YOUR SHOES OFF!!!

BILLY:  You should see the hole in the wall.  It’s pretty big.  Ziegfried fit in there easily.

DAD:  You placed your hamster behind the basement drywall????  Are you insane????

BILLY:  He was covered in paint…I didn’t want him walking on the carpet.

MOM:  There’s paint all over the carpet, the pantry is a disaster, the basement is a wreck, I still need to put the Christmas candles in the windows which I haven’t cleaned, we haven’t even raked the leaves in the yard, there are still 37 items on the “Multi-Seasonal To Do List” and we have 25 people coming here for Thanksgiving next week!!!!!!!!!!!!  AND WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD HIMSELF ARE YOU DOING????????????

DAD:  Sitting on the couch.  Relaxing.  It’ll get done.  Thanksgiving isn’t here for another 11 days…

Grandpa Malarky recently moved into the Malarky household in West Chester, Pa.  Here are some scenes from his first days with his son’s family:

 

We see Grandpa sitting on a chair in the kitchen staring at a turkey cooking in the oven when his son Flex walks in…

FLEX:  Why are you staring at the oven, Dad?

GRANDPA:  Oven?  Aw, hell!  I thought I was watching the Food Network!

 

Grandpa sitting on the couch talking to his 12-year-old grandson, Alex…

ALEX:  You gotta come outside and see my new skateboard, Grandpa!

GRANDPA:  So ya got yourself a new skateboard, eh?  What’d it cost ya?

ALEX:  $100.

GRANDPA:  Hundred bucks??  Jesus Christmas!  In my day a skateboard was two bucks for a piece of wood, five bucks for a pair of roller skates and a whipping from my dad for ruining a good pair of roller skates!

 

Grandpa sitting in the passenger seat next to his son, Flex…

FLEX:  I can’t believe you got into a car accident, Dad!  At least you’re alright.

GRANDPA:  It wasn’t my fault!  I was backing my car out of the driveway when it was struck by the other car in the same place it was struck several times before!

 

Grandpa sitting with his 10-year-old granddaughter, Alison…

ALISON:  You know it’s your birthday this Sunday, Grandpa.

GRANDPA:  I know that!  You don’t have to tell me what I already know.

ALISON:  So whaddya want for your birthday?

GRANDPA:  Who’s having a birthday?

ALISON:  You are!

GRANDPA:  I know that!  I know when it’s my birthday!  Trust me, I was there when I was born.

ALISON:  So what kinda present should I getcha?

GRANDPA:  Make sure you buy me something you like, cause you’re gonna get it back when I die!

 

Grandpa walking with his grandson, Alex…

GRANDPA:  When I was a kid, I had to walk five miles to school, uphill, every day, through twenty inches of snow, with no shoes…and no feet…

ALEX:  I guess you weren’t very smart as a kid, Grandpa.

GRANDPA:  Whaddya mean?

ALEX:  You shoulda just taken the school bus!

 

Grandpa sitting outside on the hammock with Alex and Alison…

GRANDPA:  Your parents ever take you kids camping?

ALISON:  I just went camping with the Girl Scouts this spring.

ALEX:  I went camping with my class a couple years ago.

GRANDPA:  Your parents should take you camping!  When I was your age, I went camping all the time!  We’d make a campfire every night just by rubbing two sticks together.

ALEX:  What did you do if it rained?

GRANDPA:  We’d rub a little harder!  We’d sing a few songs, tell some ghost stories, then roast our wieners on a stick until they turned black and split!

(ALEX and ALISON look at one another and start giggling.)

GRANDPA:  What?  What’d I say?

(They repeat what he just said about roasting wieners.)

GRANDPA:  Oh!  I get it!  I guess I made a pretty funny boner, huh?

A typical American family on a typical weekday morning in 1960.  It is 8:30am.  All four have just finished a breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast.

 

MOM:  Have a great day at work, dear.

DAD:  Thanks, hon.  (Takes one last sip of coffee.)  I should be home by 5:30.

MOM:  I’ll have supper ready. 

SON/DAUGHTER:  We’re off to school!  Have a good day, Mom!  Dad!

MOM:  I love all of you.  Can’t wait to hear about your days around the dinner table!

 

A typical American family on a typical weekday morning in 1985.  It is 8:00am.  The kids ate their Flintstone vitamins and grabbed Pop-Tarts as they make their way out the door.

 

SON/DAUGHTER:  Bye, Mom!  Dad!

MOM:  I’ll be home from work around 6:00.

DAD:  I should be home around 6:30.  (He takes his daily multivitamin.)

MOM:  I’m thinking leftovers.  (She takes her daily multivitamin.)

DAD:  Sounds good! 

SON/DAUGHTER:  We have practice after school but should be home by 5ish.

MOM:  Great!  See you all tonight.

 

A typical American family on a typical weekday morning in 2010.  It is 7:00am. 

 

DAD:  I’m running late!  With traffic it’s going to take me an hour fifteen to get in!

MOM:  Same here.  Did you take your multivitamin?

DAD:  Yeah.  Did you take your blood pressure medication?

MOM:  Got my Cozaar right here.  And I need to take my daily aspirin. 

DAD:  Where’s my Lipitor?  Has anyone seen it?

DAUGHTER:  Should be right next to my Lexapro.

MOM:  I thought it was next to my Prozac?  Did someone move my flaxseed oil pills?

SON:  I need a refill on my Adderall.  I noticed I wasn’t able to concentrate as well in class yesterday.

MOM:  Someone needs to pick up some Claritin D.  Why don’t you grab some, dear, when you get your Viagra prescription refilled?

DAD:  I’m not sure if the Viagra has been working, honey.  The Koro I’m taking for my Genital Retraction Syndrome may be canceling it out.  I don’t know.  Anyone seen my Xanax?

MOM:  Can you hand me that bottle of Mirapex?  That’s for my Restless Leg Syndrome.

DAUGHTER:  Can someone hand me my bottle of Acnepril?  Ugh!  Get your sinus rinse tube out of my face!

SON (as he’s popping pills in his mouth):  Sorry.  Can you hand me my Advair? 

MOM:  Here’s your Propecia, dear.  And your Climinax.  One pill a day, right?

DAD:  Yep.

SON:  Has that really helped with your premature ejaculation, Dad?

MOM:  Let’s make that two pills, dear.

DAUGHTER:  Here are your iron supplement pills, Mom.  They look just like my breast enhancement pills.  And what is Plavix?

MOM:  My blood thinner pills.

DAUGHTER:  Why do you take that?

MOM:  It offsets the daily Vitamin K I take that thickens my blood.

DAUGHTER:  Uh…then wouldn’t logic dictate that you stop tak—

SON:  Hey!  Where are my exploding head pills?

DAD (as he’s popping pills in his mouth):  Climinax is right here, son.

SON (points to his head):  No, for my Exploding Head Syndrome, you know, how I hear loud sounds in this head as I’m going to sleep.

DAUGHTER (as she’s popping pills in her mouth):  Mom, can I switch to Lorazepam?  Cindy switched to it last week and she is noticeably less anxious.

MOM (as she’s popping pills in her mouth):  Not sure if our insurance would cover that, dear.  Who has my Melancor? 

SON:  Mom?  Dad?  I’ve been thinking.  Do we really need to take all of these drugs?  Are our lives really better with all of this medication?  Or are we all just mindless puppets succumbing to the pressures of Big Pharma and their unimaginative lapdogs who just so happen to be our family doctors? 

(The other three stare at SON for a moment…possibly considering what he just said…when they continue to pop their pills and down them with water.)

DAD:  Maybe hold off on his Adderall and switch him back to Ritalin.  Seems way too incoherent this morning.

MOM:  Listen, I’ve got to run.  Take-out again tonight?

From the journal of Mike Watkins, 40, of Akron, OH:

 

July 27^th

Not a good day.  Work was brutal.  Just wanted to come home and relax.  I kicked off my shoes, cracked open a cold one, and sat in the living room with the laptop to check out eBay.  Timmy came in a few minutes later holding a couple of books and asked me how my day was.  For a 10-year-old, the kid has some decent manners.  Thank God for his mother.  I told him I was tired but what can I do for him?

 

“I need some help on the birds and the bees,” he said.

 

Jesus…like I needed to deal with this now?  I placed my laptop aside, took a long sip of beer, and motioned for Timmy to sit beside me.  “I knew this would come up sooner or later,” I sighed.  “I guess I was hoping for later.”  It’s funny.  I knew I’d have to have this chat with the boy in the near future, but I never really prepared myself for it.  I tried to think back when my dad gave me the “Birds and the Bees” talk.  He had been sweating bullets.  I now realized that my armpits were a bit damp.

 

“Well, Timmy,” I began.  “When a boy starts to become a man, his brain begins a southward migration and he begins to see girls as more than just kind, caring friends.  Years later, a man and a woman will meet, fall in love, sometimes they’ll get married, and they become husband and wife.”

 

I took another sip of beer.  “One day they decide they want to have children so they can have a tax write-off.  So the husband gets his wife all liquored up and he sticks his ding-ding in the woman’s yum-yum.  That part is pretty sweet.  For a second there it feels like your ding-ding is about to go all M-80 like but what it’s doing is shooting this tapioca-like stuff called semen into the woman’s yum-yum.  You’ll know what semen is like in a couple years when you start spanking your ding-ding on a daily basis.  And don’t worry…you won’t go blind.  Trust your old man on that one.”

 

“So this semen is filled with sperm which look like tadpoles, and the sperm swim inside the woman’s body until they reach an egg.  The egg becomes fertilized, turns into a baby, and after nine months of growing in the woman’s belly, the baby shoots out of the yum-yum and lo and behold you become a father and you begin to age dramatically.”

 

Timmy looked horrified.

 

“It’s not that bad,” I said after I downed my beer.  “When you stick your ding-ding into the yum-yum, it’s called sex.  Sex can be a lot of fun…well…until you get married.  When I was in college I used to have sex all the time.  Could barely keep my ding-ding in my pants!  Nearly had to put a leash on that bad boy!  Then I met your mother and I thought it was a brilliant idea to stop having sex with a dozen women and to start having sex with one woman.  For the rest of my life.  That…same…one…woman.  Don’t ask me.  Massive brainwashing of the male species, I suppose.  But I used to tenderize the shit out of your mother’s yum-yum until you came along.  Then she became more interested in Pampered Chef and Tastefully Simple parties and less interested in sex.”

 

Timmy now looked horrified and confused.

 

“If that happens, you need to try to keep your love life stimulating!  Your mother just said to me last month, ‘Why don’t you try to spice up things a bit?’  So that Friday night while you were at a sleepover, I picked up this Mexican hooker………what?  She was over 18!  At least I think she was.  It was hard to understand her……with the duct tape covering her mouth.  Your mother walked into the bedroom and nearly freaked out.  ‘What are you doing?’ she cried.  ‘You know I don’t like Mexican!!!’  So I dropped her off and picked up a Chinese girl.  Everything went okay except an hour later it felt like we hadn’t had any sex at all so I was off again roaming the streets, looking for a pick-up, hoping none of the hookers were undercover cops.”

 

Timmy looked pale as a ghost.  He stood up, dropped his books, and ran out of the room, screaming.  Confused, I picked up his two books.  Birds of North America and Our Friend the Honeybee.  “Aw, shit,” I muttered.  “Hey!” I yelled after my traumatized son.  “I was just kidding!  A stork…yeah, a stork… dropped you down our chimney!!!  Pinky swear!!!”

From the vacation journal of Emily Stockton, 9, of Horsham, PA:

 

Saturday, June 27^th

We arrived early in Cape May for our week-long vacation!  Mommy and Daddy said we couldn’t get the keys to our house yet so we went on the promenade to the arcade.  “Let’s play skee ball!” Daddy suggested and he got a bunch of quarters.  He gave me and Jimmy four quarters each.  Mommy, Daddy, Jimmy and me all played side by side!  It was great fun.  We all played our games and Mommy said, “I got 310!”  Jimmy said, “I got 330!”  Daddy beamed as he pointed to his score.  “360 was my best,” he said.  “Daddy rules!”  I stood there as a smile slowly appeared on my face.  “Almost as good as my high score,” I boasted.  Everyone looked.  370.  Mommy and Jimmy came over and patted my back as they congratulated me.  “370, huh?” Daddy asked.  “Ya know…I think I have another quarter in here.”

 

Daddy played another game of skee ball and rolled a 310.  “Time to go, dear,” Mommy said.  “Hold on,” said Daddy as he put another quarter in the slot.  He rolled a 280.  “We can get the key now, Dad,” said Jimmy.  “Oh look!” said Daddy.  “I found another quarter in my back pocket!”  He rolled a 300.

 

“Let’s go, dear,” said Mommy.  “Back off, man!” said Daddy.  He went to the change machine and stuck a five dollar bill in it.  Twenty quarters shot out like flattened bullets.  Daddy rolled five more games:  270, 320, 190, 260 and 330.  “Sonofabitch!” Daddy cried.  His eyes sparkled with an insane fury.  He took out a twenty and ran to the change machine.

 

“That’s it!” cried Mommy.  “We’re getting the keys and going to the house.”  As we left, Daddy was still playing.

 

Sunday, June 28^th

Jimmy and I woke up at 8:00 and ran into Mommy’s bedroom.  “Can we go check on Daddy?” I asked.  Mommy nodded and Jimmy and I ran out of the house and up to the promenade and the arcade.  Daddy was still playing skee ball.  “360 again!” he cried.  “What the hell—?”

 

“Daddy,” I said.  “Please come with us.  There’s so much we want to do today.”  “Yeah,” said Jimmy.  “We want to go on a bike ride, go on the beach, play miniature golf…”

 

“How in God’s name did you roll a 370?” Daddy cried as he looked at me.  There were dark circles under his eyes.  “It’s impossible!  Impossible, I tell you!”  Jimmy and I left.

 

Monday, June 29^th

I brought Daddy some soup.  He was still playing skee ball.  His eyes were now bloodshot and some people nearby said he looked like Walter Mondale on a bender.  Daddy took the soup from me and threw it against the wall where it splattered.  I ran out of the arcade, screaming.

 

Wednesday, July 1^st

Jimmy and I went to visit Daddy late in the afternoon.  This was now his fifth day in a row playing skee ball without a break.  The arcade man said he thought Daddy had spent over a thousand bucks on the game and he still didn’t hit 370.  Daddy needed a shower and a shave really bad and the arcade man said he never saw Daddy even go to the bathroom.  I wanted to give Daddy a hug but he smelled really bad.  I’m scared for Daddy.

 

Friday, July 3^rd

Mommy and Jimmy were flying kites on the beach so I thought it would be a good time to check in on Daddy.  He looked and smelled really awful.  He had strange stains all over his clothes and he was muttering to himself, saying things like “Charcoal” and “Rhinotillexomania”.  His hair looked like someone had painted it with bacon grease.  He looked at me.  He blinked slowly as his eyes attempted to focus.  His lips were horribly dry and chapped and white crusty stuff lingered on the corners of his mouth.  He held up a quarter.  “Last…quarter,” he mumbled.  He dropped it in the slot.  Daddy rolled his balls and a minute later the score 380 flashed on his skee ball game.  “I…did…it,” Daddy muttered as he dropped to his knees.  “I…did…it.  I…beat…your score…………honey bunch.  Daddy………..rules…….”  He picked up his pink tickets that had sputtered out of his game all week and went to the counter.  Daddy had 17,835 tickets.

 

I found a quarter on the floor and was about to tell Daddy when I shrugged and decided to play one last game myself.  I rolled a 460 without even thinking about it.  Daddy stumbled over and showed me the plastic spider ring and book of tattooes he had purchased with his winning tickets.

 

I was about to show Daddy my score when I thought better of it.  He seemed so happy.  No point in telling him that I already shattered his high score.  He’d be ticked off enough when he realized he had less than 24 hours left of his week-long vacation…

From the hospital bedside of Beatrice Portare, 90, originally from Overbrook and now Downingtown, PA:

 

(BEATRICE “BEA” is surrounded by her loved ones; her husband SAL, her two daughters, numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  It is solemn as they talk amongst themselves.  BEA opens her eyes but no one seems to notice.)

 

BEA:  Look at this!  My entire family is here!  Sal!  You look awful!  How many times have I told you that hat doesn’t go with that jacket?  Look at my great-grandchildren!  My word they look so tall!  Aw, thanks for the hugs and kisses, everybody!  Why is everyone here visiting me?  Is it Christmas already?  Sal!  Take that hat off!  And why isn’t anyone answering me?

 

(An elderly man walks by and stops behind SAL.  He is wearing a plaid shirt, a ski jacket and jeans.  His name is PETE.  He smiles.)

 

PETE:  Bea!  Hey!  You’re awake!

BEA:  Yes.  But no one seems to care.  Who are you?  You look…familiar.

PETE:  You can call me Pete, Bea.  Here, let me take these tubes and wires off you.

BEA:  They weren’t very comfortable.  I kept telling the nurse that but she wouldn’t listen.  Thanks for removing them.  I feel a lot better.  Listen, no one seems to hear me.  Could you please tell my husband to take that silly hat off?  It doesn’t go with his jacket…or shirt…or pants.  Madonn’!  Who dressed him today?  Picasso?

PETE:  Take my hand, Bea.  I’d like to take you for a walk.

BEA:  I can’t walk, Pete.  I broke my hip again a couple weeks ago.  (She takes PETE’s hand and stands.)  Why…it feels better!  And I can breathe without those tubes!  Thank you, Pete!

PETE:  You’re welcome, Bea.  Ouch!  What a strong grip!  You have always been strong, haven’t you?

BEA:  I don’t know.  I may have been…but I’m tired now.

PETE:  That’s okay.  I’d like to show you something.  Do me a favor and look around that corner.

BEA:  I don’t like surprises.  What’s around the…hey!  That’s my house in Overbrook!  1020 Flanders Road!  (She runs to the front door.)  This is what it looked like…so long ago!

PETE:  Go ahead, Bea.  Go inside. 

(BEA slowly opens the door and steps inside.  There, she sees her parents, Antoinette and Nunziato, her brother Al, her cousins Dora, Viola and Lou, and many other family members and friends BEA hasn’t seen in years.  All surround BEA and shower her with hugs and kisses.)

BEA:  Mom!  Dad!  Al!  What are you doing here?  Dad!  Put out that cigar!  (She turns to PETE.)  Pete, what is this?

PETE:  You’re tired and now you’ve come here to rest.  Welcome home, Bea.

BEA:  But I don’t want to be here without my husband.  Look at how he dresses himself!  Who’s going to take care of him?

PETE:  Sal will be here soon, Bea.  And when he gets here, you two can play as much golf as you’d like!  And no cart fees!

BEA:  Sal and I never used a golf cart!  These kids today!  They could use the exercise!

AL:  Now we can finally have some good homemade gnocchi!

ANTOINETTE:  Something wrong with my homemade pasta and sauce?

AL:  Not enough salt!

BEA:  Pete?  Will you let Sal and my daughters know?  Will you tell the rest of my family?

PETE:  They know where you are, Bea.  They know.  I see you have a lot of catching up to do so I’ll let you go.  God bless you, Bea.  (PETE walks out the front door as BEA’s family and friends surround her with smiles.  PETE closes the door.  His phone rings.  He answers it.)

PETE:  Hey, Big Guy!  Yep!  She’s settling in.  What’s that?  Yep, I’m sure she can’t wait to meet you!  (He sighs happily.)  Yes…I’ll tell them to save you some pizzelles…

 

In loving memory of Beatrice Portare, my grandmother, 1918-2008

 

 

From the Radford family SUV on 6/8/08.  The Radford family resides in Doylestown, PA:

JOEY (age 9):  Mom?  Dad?  Can we look into lacrosse camp for me this summer?  I really like it and would love to join some of my teammates in this particular camp.

MOM:  Where is it and do you know the cost?

JOEY:  It’s for one week in July at the local high school.  Cost is around $200.

DAD:  For one week??  I don’t think so, son.  We need to cut some costs, you know, with the high price of gas now.

MOM:  Gas is now over $4.00/gallon, honey.  It costs so much now to fill the tanks of our vehicles.

DAD:  Not only that, but as gas goes up, so does everything else.  Once gas goes up in price, the price of groceries goes up, the electric and gas bill from PECO goes up…

MOM:  So what we’re saying is we really can’t afford a lacrosse camp for $200 this summer, honey. 

DAD:  There really isn’t any way for us to cut costs in the family budget.  I’d go into more detail, but you wouldn’t understand, big guy.

(Pause)

JOEY:  No problem.  I understand that things cost money.  And I can definitely understand that you can’t find ways to cut costs.  I agree I’m too young to understand that.  But if I ran the family budget, I think I’d be able to find a few ways here and there.  For example, every time a new movie you like for me or yourselves comes out on DVD, you buy it.  We do have Netflix, you know.  Why buy the movie?  Except for The Godfather and GoodFellas and maybe The Notebook for Mom, how many times are you really going to watch the movie? 

After four years with Comcast, you’re still renting their modem, giving them a payment every month.  Suck it up and buy one.  Do we really need TiVO or digital cable?  Did we really need that 2^nd flat screen TV and the Nintendo Wii?  You guys don’t play it and fortunately for you I don’t play it because I have a life and friends and I like to play outside! 

Every morning the two of you blow $4.00 each on coffee at Starbucks while your $300 coffeemaker rots in a kitchen cabinet.  Both of you buy lunch at work nearly every day, so that’s blowing $5-10.00 a day each.  Mom hasn’t made me lunch for school for three months now.  Nothing wrong with me eating peanut butter and jelly rather than having me blow $1.75/day! 

Dad buys a case of bottled water every week.  Last time I checked, we have a water filter in the fridge.  Ever hear of a water bottle?  Mom blows $60 every other week on getting her fake fingernails re-done at the manicure place.  Ever thought of growing your nails?  Dad blows $20/week on cigarettes…

MOM:  You said you quit!

DAD:  I did quit…until I saw the latest credit card bill!

JOEY:  Don’t even get me started on the money you’re blowing every month paying the finance charges to your credit card.  And have you ever heard of a Hybrid?  Why you still have this gas guzzler I have no idea.  Ever hear of carpooling?  Or riding your bike?  Gotta have a flat screen TV, gotta have the Wii, gotta have the SUV, gotta have the Blackberry, GPS and satellite radio, gotta keep up with the Joneses!  Guess what?  The Joneses just filed for Chapter 11!  And I didn’t even bring up the money you blow on wine and beer every month.  Can’t afford my $200 lacrosse camp?  Without even trying, I just saved you two chumps $1,000/month if you would display one ounce of fiscal discipline!

(Long pause as we prepare for the weak punchline…)

DAD:  Ha.  Shows what he knows.  (to JOEY)  Your mother and I get our coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts every day, not Starbucks!

A doctor walked back into his patient’s room with the lab results.  “I’m afraid it’s not good news, Mr. Jennings,” he said.

 

“Sumbitch,” said Mr. Jennings as he sat down.  Mrs. Jennings placed her hand on Mr. Jennings’ shoulder.

 

“What did you find?” asked Mrs. Jennings.

 

“Mr. Jennings is inflicted with a rare disease called Penisknotitis,” the doctor explained.  “It’s very rare.  More rare than one would care to believe.”

 

“Dang,” said Mr. Jennings. 

 

“I’m afraid it’s fatal.”

 

“Double dang,” said Mr. Jennings.  “I reckon…is there a cure?”

 

“Yes, there is.”  The doctor turned to Mrs. Jennings.  “You need to have sex with your husband every night for the next six months.  That is the only possible chance of curing Penisknotitis.”

 

“Really?” said Mrs. Jennings.  “I have to be honest with you, doctor.  I was about to leave my husband and…”

 

“Debbie!” cried Mr. Jennings.  “This is a matter of life and death!  You have to help me!”

 

“OK,” sighed Mrs. Jennings.  “Heck, I reckon I’ll do the best I can!”

 

Six months later, the doctor was reading the obituaries and saw that Mr. Jennings had died the night before.  “Dang,” said the doctor.  Just then his assistant called in that Mrs. Jennings was on the phone.

 

“Mrs. Jennings,” said the doctor.  “Didn’t you do what I prescribed?”

 

“I sure did!” cried Mrs. Jennings.  “I had sex with my lousy husband every night for six months!  But that still didn’t save my brother-in-law!!!”

 

From the diary of Elizabeth Duncan, age 7, of Fruitdish, TN:

 

10/31

 

Dear Diary,

 

What an awful Halloween I had tonight!  I was so happy to get home from school and I couldn’t wait to get dressed up in my witch costume when Mommy and Daddy walked into my bedroom.  I asked Mommy why she was dressed like a homo.  “That’s hobo,” she said as she chomped on her plastic cigar.  And I asked Daddy why he was dressed like a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader.

 

“Sit down, Elizabeth,” Daddy said.  “Mommy and I wanted to talk to you about something called RESPONSIBILITY.”

 

“Can you make it quick?” I asked.  “Trick or treating starts in 10 minutes.”

 

“That’s the thing,” said Mommy.  “You need to learn about RESPONSIBILITY and your father and I think that now is a good time.”

 

“Great,” I said.  “Throw me a dictionary or let me Google it.  Then I’ll need help with my wig and make-up.”

 

Mommy and Daddy exchanged glances and Daddy said, “You won’t be going out tonight, honey.  Instead, you’re going to do a couple loads of laundry.”

 

“RESPONSIBILITY, sweetheart,” Mommy chimed in.

 

“Say what?!” I yelled.  “Are you two serious?”  I knew they were when Daddy presented a jug of Tide with fabric softener from beneath his pom-poms.

 

Well, I figured, at least I would have the leftover candy from the stash Mommy and Daddy were giving out.  We always had leftover candy.  After I threw my first load of laundry in the dryer, I went upstairs to see how my parents were doing with the onslaught of trick or treaters.  Much to my horror, they weren’t at the front door!  They weren’t anywhere in the house!  There was a bucket of candy on the front porch with a small sign in it that read, “Help yourselves, fellow citizens!  Don’t mind our daughter in the laundry room.  She’s learning RESPONSIBILITY.  Happy Halloween!”

 

Needless to say, I could have p*ssed up a ladder when my parents returned home an hour later, carrying bags of candy.  “Where in God’s name were you two?!” I cried.

 

Daddy was busy shoving 3 Kit-Kats into his beefy, choco-sloppy mouth.  “Out trick or treating,” he said.  “We only did this, sweetheart, to teach you the meaning of *BURP!* RESPONSIBILITY.  Now make sure you start folding the clothes before they wrinkle.”

 

And before I could say anything else, Mommy took OUR basket of leftover candy and said, “I’ll bring this into the office tomorrow.”  She then took a broom out of the closet and told me to sweep up the floor!

 

So that was my Halloween, dear diary.  RESPONSIBILITY, huh?  Well, it may have been an awful night but I felt a lot better when I claimed RESPONSIBILITY for breaking the broom in half and sticking both ends up my parents’ asses!