Jack Brussel Sprouts
I don't want her going to Vegas and being away from the pack for months anyway. I'm glad she's going to stay here and cook.
I think Dad carries some kind of very delicate balls in his pants. I saw a huge Labrador walking past our car in the parking lot at Whole Foods on Fairfax and I jumped over to the window on the driver's side to yell at him. I stepped on one of Dad's balls by accident and he screamed almost as loud as when he dropped his new Mac on the marble floor in France. I don't have those kinds of hurting balls. I've got all sorts of other balls though. Balls you can slam against walls without anyone screaming like that.
Mom made a big dinner last night. She was all dressed up in high pointy shoes and every burner on the stove was red hot. All the pots were steaming with delicious people food. Dad was walking around in circles, moving the dust around the living room floor with the dust mop but Mom wanted him to do other stuff.
Mom: "Why are you doing that when I've already done it? There are a thousand things to do before people come. That needs to be washed, all that needs to be diced, that needs to be cleared up and that needs to be dried so I can have room to do this.
Dad: "I guess every single thing I do is wrong."
Mom: "No, I just need help."
Dad: "I do a lot."
Mom: "Yeah, I know. You pay all the bills."
They always have stupid fights when they're nervous about not being ready for their food parties. This time, there was no time to fight because their guests started arriving.
It was better than most nights because this time, the Hollywood types that came liked me and Finn. One guy actually lay down on the floor to make out with Finley. She slipped him the tongue. There was a woman here who played with Zelda most of the night. I know she likes animals because she made a cartoon movie about sharks that showed sharks can be nice. Most movies about sharks show them eating people but this one showed a vegetarian shark fighting with his Dad about eating fish. I saw her movie on the plane coming back from Nice. It wasn't bad. Thin story but the idea was good.
There were empty wine bottles all over the place and they were drunk. I was trying to sleep, waiting to go to bed but they were all exchanging stories about losing control of bodily functions. I thought it would never end. It was horrifying.
Mom: "I can't believe how he walks around farting! If he makes any kind of effort, he farts. He can't even control his own ass!
Dad: "The other day, she's in the jacuzzi. I look at this beautiful naked woman in there. A vision. And then the giant gas bubbles. She's a very gassy lady. Phrffffft, phvvrrrrrrroooooot!"
Mom: (screaming) "Ach! Stop it! STOP it! You're disgusting!"
Dad: "Yeah, she's in there floating on the surface bubbling like a power boat."
Dad: "YOU started it!"
Then the guests all started with their stories.
Guest #1: "My mother can't stop farting. She's deaf, so she doesn't hear it."
Guest #2 : "My grandfather was so full of gas, he was still farting an hour after he died!"
I couldn't stand it. It went on forever. It was disgusting. Why can't these people leave before Minky time (10 PM)?
When they finally left and we got into bed, I positioned myself like I usually do, on top of the comforter, in the trench between them, head facing down, ass up by their faces. For making me stay up so late, I blasted them with some hot air of my own.
Dad calls me Saddam Hussein when I do that, because he says I gas my own people. Then he fans it over to Mom's side of the bed.
Dad: (fanning with both hands) "There."
Mom: "Arch! Why are you doing that?"
Dad: "So you can enjoy the delicious Jack Brussel Sprouts. There."
Dad likes my Jack Brussel Sprouts; I can tell because he always smiles when I send one his way.
Mom and Finn steaming together. You never know what those bubbles are in there.