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PIG!

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September 10, 2014 by Andy Lester

A tribute to my mother as told from the stage that ends with an unwitting act of blasphemy…

I’ve gotten a lot of benefit from talkin’ about my family up here and I thought it would be appropriate to take some time and just, write a bit about my mother, but about her passion and strength – not necessarily her limitations. So with an open mind and a mildly ulterior motive we went over there, brought some sandwiches so she wouldn’t have to cook and after we were done with the Subway, just kidding around, there was a crumb on the table and I flicked it at her – it hits her arm and to understand my mother, you need to know she’s very big on manners, having class and in her seventies and also doesn’t tolerate crude language at all. If you say poopy diaper you’re being vulgar even if you’re talking about her granddaughter. She’s super religious and boy can she pray, you need something, she’ll pray – she can pray like a demon! So I flick this crumb, it hits her and everything stops. Her mouth is now a line. Her eyes become dark and I see her reach down and pull up a strength of will, she looks at me with a kind of fury and said one word…

“PIG!” My wife and daughter are starin’ at me as my mother is acting as if I just shot her. “What?” “You know what!” So now our eyes are locked – and I’m not going to lose this staring contest because I know I’m going to win but my nose starts to itch so still locking eyes with her I slowly raise my arm and slide it across my face in slow motion. She stares further into my soul, poised then shouts “PIG!!!” And this is because wiping your nose is disgusting too! What struck me is how the word was expelled with a compressed raspberry that starts off with a “PppGHHHH!!” and she just sprayed it at me like a kid wanting to make snow with a mouthful of saltines. It’s tense so to try and lighten things up I attempt a vintage parlor trick, the old lame “remove my thumb from my hand”. She turns her head away but feels the need to also block her vision with her outstretched martyr hand like I’m some kind of an evil son and says “Don’t make fun of Jesus!”

It took an instant before I realized she thought I made my thumb – a crucifix – and was “lopping off” the top again and again to torment her! With that, I knew I’d crossed a line and might not be able to redeem myself – I said “I’m not, Mom, I’m really not”.

I don’t know if she believed me but somehow through my foolishness I set myself up good – and for the record, I’m really not a heretic, we still get along and I don’t do the thumb trick anymore. Nice Shot Karma.


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