I used to be able to get away with pretty much anything. I know that many people may find that shocking based on my current angelic behavior, but I used to do whatever I wanted and not really suffer any severe consequences because of one thing and one thing only – I could always make my mother laugh.
Now, I don’t think that I was a bad kid. You could probably poll the parents of the kids I went to grade school with and 98% of them would disagree with that statement, but I really don’t think I was all that bad. As I’ve said in previous posts, I never did anything in a malicious manner, but instead was usually just in the wrong place at the wrong time doing things without fully contemplating the possible consequences. Usually, because of my cunning and extreme intelligence I would not get caught doing these horrible things. The times when I did though, I was usually talked to by my mother.
As I said, I didn’t get caught a lot (oh, the things I used to do…) but there were times when I would slip up and require punishment. Most of the time, however, I would just get in trouble for being a pain in the ass. Much like I do today, I used to get a ton of enjoyment out of pestering people until they hit their breaking point. The object wasn’t to get them mad, but it was more of a game for myself to see how mad I could get them prior to reeling them in with my charm and making them laugh with me. I don’t think I ever knew that I was doing this, but I did it nonetheless and the person that I did it to most was my mother.
Thankfully, both of my parents have a good sense of humor. Dad’s was a little harder to figure out because it was very dry and I didn’t fully appreciate it until I was older and realized that my humor was a lot like his, but mom’s was a little more open. Nobody really told jokes in my house growing up, but I could always tell that I could get away with more stuff with my mother because she laughed more openly. Like I said, I don’t think I was fully aware of what I was doing, but I definitely took advantage of this on more than one occasion.
Case in point.
I can remember an evening when I was probably in the fifth or sixth grade where my sister, mother, and I were all out eating at a Hardees somewhere in Belleville. Now, at this point in my life I had some annoying tics. I’m not talking about the insects that get in your nooks and crannies while walking through the woods, but actual physical tics. I don’t know why I had them or even when they began or stopped, but I had two prominent ones at this time and they drove my sister crazy.
For some reason, even though I wouldn’t get braces for another year or so, one of the tics was that I would suck air in from the corners of my mouth as if I were trying to slurp up some drool. I don’t know why I did it, but I did it a lot and it was pretty annoying. My other tick was to sharply jerk my head to the side as if I was Justin F*cking Beiber moving the hair out of my eyes. The problem with that one was that I was sporting a flat top at the time and had no hair in my eyes at all. Regardless, whether I was walking or sitting or even standing in place, I would routinely jerk my head to either side as if I were Michael J Fox (when he had long hair on Family Ties – not because of the Parkinsons. That would be mean).
On this particular evening, Hardees was fairly empty and we were waiting on our food to be done so they could call our number. Unknowingly, I started in with my tics which began to annoy my sister. I don’t recall if she said anything to me or not, but I do know that I noticed her annoyance and began to force the tics to enhance my personal enjoyment. After a while, my mother saw what was going on and politely asked me to stop.
Being the obedient child that I was, I stopped. Temporarily. After a short time, and whether it was the unconscious nature of the tics or a very conscious effort to continue annoying my sister, I began with the head jerking and drool slurping again. This time I am certain that my sister said something to my mother about me disobeying her and annoying her again. My mother, being the mediator that she is, asked me again to stop.
Now this is where I do my best work.
I had an annoyed sister on one side of the booth and a mother asking me to stop on my side of the booth. I could tell my mother wasn’t fully invested in her request as she was really only trying to quell my sister, so I would wait for my mother to turn her head and then force the jerk and the slurp so that only my sister could see. Melissa, fully aware of my ability to be a pain in the ass, would then say “Mom, he’s doing it again,” followed by a full denial from me. Eventually, mom got sick of this game and told me to flat out stop. No joking. She had on her serious face and I knew she meant business. Now most kids would have broken at this point and slumped back in their seat dejected while watching the sneer of victory on their sister’s face.
Not me.
Although mom had on her serious face, I knew that face all too well and that I could break her and leave this situation without being in trouble at all. It was going to take some effort, but I knew I could do it. I immediately turned my attention to mom and started forcing my tics in front of her. When she looked at me and told me that she thought she had told me to stop, I simply kept doing it more and more and told her I couldn’t help it.
*jerk, jerk, slurp*
Melissa: See mom!
*slurp, slurp, jerk, slurp*
Me: What? What are you talking about?
*jerk, jerk, jerk*
Mom: Scott, that’s enough.
*slurp, slurp, jerk, jerk*
Me: I’m *slurp* sorry *jerk, jerk*. I just can’t *slurp, jerk* help it.
Mom: (getting slightly annoyed) Scott, stop it.
Me: What mom? *jerk, jerk, jerk, slurp* I’m trying *slurp, slurp, jerk* but I just can’t help it.
Mom: (stifling laughter) you stop that right now.
Me: *jerk, slurp, jerk, slurp* I wish I could, *jerk, jerk* but I can’t.
Now at this point, Melissa is getting mad for various reasons. 1) I’m still annoying her with my tics, and 2) I’m not getting in trouble. Sure my mother is telling me to stop it, but by this time I have her laughing because 1) my sister is really annoyed and I don’t care, and 2) she wants to be mad at me but she can’t because I’m downright hilarious.
The conversation went on with my mother, through her laughter, telling me to stop and me continuing to force the jerking and slurping to make her laugh harder for probably about the next five minutes. Eventually, I have her laughing so hard that she was crying and making a scene in the restaurant. It was a good thing that it was only Hardees and that it was empty otherwise people may have called DCFS on the woman hysterically laughing at the physical deficiencies of her possibly retarded son. But since it was empty, we just had a good time laughing at the idiot that I am.
Well, mom and I were laughing. Melissa, as usual, was just mad that I didn’t get in trouble – again.
On that note, I’d like to wish my mother a happy birthday. Thank you for always being a good sport and putting up with my sense of humor. I’m glad that even after all of these years of me torturing and annoying you that I can still make you laugh.
Happy Birthday
I love you.
No comments:
Post a Comment