Let's Cyber, Baby

According to her, “You never know what kind of weirdos and manic serial killers live in California.” She’d seen the five o’clock news, and that was information enough for her. Her motherly-driven psyche would never understand why I wanted to move away from the Olympic Peninsula and its lush, soothing scenery. Yada yada.

How could I tell her it was to get laid -- something I could only do far away from her religious, meddling ways?

“Ma, I’m fine. I’m just about home,” I replied balancing my cell between my ear and shoulder while rummaging through my messenger bag for my keys.

“Oh, have you been out buying some more of your cartoons?” she asked, her voice raising a disapproving octave.

Cartoons? How could she call them that? They are not cartoons, but exceptional pieces of art and narrative. “They’re comic books.” I sighed at having to endure the same conversation for the umpteenth time.

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” she replied in her usual flippant manner. “Anyway, I need your help with the thingamajig on my computer.”

“I’ve told you before, to check your email, just click on the little envelope next to the picture of Jesus on the desktop,” I replied, having a very good idea what her real issue was -- and it wasn’t technology based.

“No, that’s not it. The whole thing freezes when I try to talk to your Great Aunt Seppy. You know, the thingy...”

Freeze? Ahh … “You mean your webcam?”

“Yeah that’s it, the web-a-hoosey thing ...”

God grant me strength to not reach through the phone and commit auntricide with my bare hands ... Look, now I was asking for help from the Almighty.  Heaven help me!

“Look Ma, I can’t help you right now. Ask Toby and Sam when they come for dinner tomorrow; I’m sure they’ll be able to sort it out.” I successfully and triumphantly got my key in the lock and wedged the door open with my foot.

“Why can’t you help me? Do you have a date? Good Heavens, I hope she’s a good Christian girl,” Ma shouted excitedly at the prospect of her only straight nephew meeting someone and potentially providing her with grandnieces or nephews one day -- inside of marriage obviously.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just have a busy afternoon lined up.” I was never going to elaborate on the subject -- that was for sure.

“Okay sweetheart. I get the message, you don’t want to waste time talking to an old woman who spent eighteen years nurturing ...” she began as I shut the door behind me. I’d always suspected her of being a closet Catholic.

Jesus, pack a bag. “Oh, don’t go there, Ma,” I replied, completely immune to her guilt-trips.

Sure, she’s been lonely since my uncle passed away four years ago, but she seems to have made plenty of friends since I hooked her up to the Internet. She now spends half her day talking to random people; spreading the word of ‘Hope’ to those she thinks are in need of help and guidance.

Basically, she was force-feeding Trinity soup down these poor souls’ throats in the guise of a well-intentioned and well-aimed spoon-plane. “Open the hangar wide, the airplane’s coming in for a landing.”

“I’ll be praying for you,” she said amid blowing kisses through the phone.

“Love you, Ma,” I replied.

“God Bless.” I could hear her take the phone away from her ear and fumble around with it. I quickly pulled the cell away from my head to muffle her high pitched screech.