"Fuck this shit," says teddybear angel.
I, by contrast, have two aspiring actor wasps performing post-mortem improv in my living room, 25lbs of concentrated Astrolube that I'm saving for a ladies wrestling-slash-cancer survivor party, and a "don't ask don't tell" pile of termite dust developing in the corner of my bathroom.
A typical birthday card from my sister contains festive balloon-shaped confetti. Not to be outdone, a typical birthday card from me generally contains the phrase, "I'm so thankful your dad shot you out of his pisshole."
My sister displays framed glamour portraits of her daughter, unironically.
I, however, find these portraits offensive. In an effort to communicate my feelings about these glamour shots, I convinced a fellow guest at my sister's last dinner party to drape his testicles over one of them.
Then I stole my brother-in-law's phone and took a photo.
And texted the photo to their daughter, away at college.
With a *winky face!* emoticon.
Daddy misses you sweetie! ;)
Butterflyyyy kisses, after bedtime prayer,
stickin' liiiittle white flowers, aaaaall up in her hairrrr...
Two minutes later, my sister's phone rang, and after a brief conversation with her daughter, punctuated by shushes and reassurances, she got off the phone and turned to her husband:
10pm in the quiet blufftop community of Pacific Palisades, California. A wispy tendril of a cloud slinks across the face of the full moon, but it's enough to diffuse the light, creating a few seconds of complete darkness. They seize their opportunity. The armed men file noiselessly from the back of a van and within seconds, they're inside.
Sister: Do you honestly think people want to see your balls, Dave?
Dave: Interesting question, honey. I honestly don't know whether people want to see my balls or not.
Sister: Well, let me tell you exactly who wants to see your balls. NOBODY WANTS TO SEE YOUR BALLS, DAVE!! NOBODY!!
Dave: That's kind of hurtful, but alright.
Sister: Especially not your DAUGHTER!!
Dave: Well, yeah. I agree. If there were a list of people who wanted to see my balls, she would be last on that list. For sure.
Sister: So why would you send her a picture of your testicles?!
Dave: Excuse me?
Sister: You know what? Stop drinking right now! Gimme your drink. You always get weird when you drink.
Dave: Okay just stop. Listen, I've made some bad decisions in my life, and I've done some questionable things, but never in my life have I thought to myself, "Hey you know what Dave? Go ahead and take a photo of your nuts, send it to your daughter. Show her you care." Not me, babe. Not this time. Move along.
Sister: It came from your phone, Dave. Your phone.
Dave: No it didn't, because my phone is right over... here. Okay, no it isn't. Someone took my phone. Who has my phone?
Sister: She's very upset, Dave!
Dave: Well, yeah. Your dad sends you a photo of his nuts, you're going to feel bad things, that's understandable!
Sister: She thought we were all taken hostage!
Dave: Taken hostage? By whom?
Sister: I don't know, terrorists?
Dave: Scrotum-texting terrorists? Seriously. That girl watches too much Special Victims Unit.
Sister: Well, she was terrified. She felt a lot of terror.
Dave: Well, she'll be okay. I'm sure there's a support group or something.
Sister: I don't know. 9/11 survivors maybe.
***
Moments later, the sound of dishes crashing to the ground and startled screams reverberate through the warm summer night.
:::several minutes later:::
