Cancer, Starbucks and More Rain
Mom: "I don't know why you're going out, we have better, cheaper coffee here and the newspapers are all online. You're just running away from home."
Dad: "I'm the least successful writer on this street. They're all younger than me, they make more money than me and they actually do something I have no idea how to do-- they write."
Mom: "Well why don't you sit in your office and WRITE something? You can write, you just don't want to."
Dad: "I'll never write anything as long as I live. I'm never going to do anything except do chores and clean the kitchen over and over until I drop dead."
Mom: "Stop TALKING like that! You're not going to drop dead. I'M the one who's going to get cancer. I'm going to get breast cancer and lose my tits and then you'll be sorry."
Dad: "I've already got Diabetes. I'm going to lose a leg and then I'm going to get cancer and when I know I'm gonna die, I'm going to go and kill some people who have been bothering me. I've had it with people."
Mom: "Can you pick up some wet cat food and some salad stuff on your way back?"
I don't know what to do with these people. They need to go running in the canyons or something but it's hailing and there are 60 mile an hour winds out there. I try and cheer them up but that's the way they are.