Is It Really Almost That Time Of Year Again?

As if the ongoing distress of my personal secretary, Miss Cashtushy, being in Las Vegas for the week wasn’t bad enough, I received a dire call from my younger brother Roderick this afternoon. Turns out that my least favorite holiday of the year, Mother’s Day, is right around the corner, and he wanted to touch base in regards to getting a joint present for our materfamilias.

“How’s it hanging, bro?” he said after Cashtushy’s replacement, Mrs. Finklebaum, patched him through to my office line. “Still making the big bucks there at LCF?”

“It’s ‘hanging’ just fine, Roderick,” I said. “And of course I’m still maximizing my earning potential. Can I presume that you’re still wasting yours with that preposterous surf shop?”

“Don’t worry about me, brother man — business is booming at Wave Carvers! I don’t think I’ve ever had as many regulars as I do now; must be from all the unemployment here in Cali. People need something to fill up their days, right?”

“Yes, god forbid they find something productive to do when they could be out surfing,” I said while rolling my eyes. “Speaking of which, was there a reason for your call? Or are you just trying to help me experience the listless existence of your average California beach bum?”

“Ho ho ho, it’s always down to brass tacks with you, bro. No worries, I won’t take up much of your day. Just wondering if you wanna go fifty-fifty on a cruise for Mom this year?”

“A cruise? For that soulless harpy? Why would I want to do that?”

“Well, Mother’s Day is coming up on the 9th, bro. I thought it might be nice if we actually did something for her this year. You know, it’s gotta be a real bummer hanging around that nursing home all day…”

“Golden Oaks isn’t a ‘nursing home.’ It’s a retirement community. And a damn nice one at that. Certainly more than she deserves, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Harsh, bro. Harsh!”

“Jesus. Stop talking to me like I just shorted you on a drug deal, Roderick. You know as well as I do that she made our lives a veritable hell while we were growing up. Not to mention forcing dad into the arms of that transsexual Hungarian trapeze artist…”

“Yeah, that was kind of a bummer, man. Alright, no problem. Like I said, just wanted to see if you were interested. Me and Rach’ll cover the cost, no worries.”

“Oh? Won’t that cut into your marijuana allowance?”

“Nah, we grow our own. It’s practically legal out here, bro! You should come visit some time.”

“I’d sooner volunteer for an al Qaeda beheading video than set foot in that socialist state of yours. In the meantime, I have work to do.”

“Alright. See you at Thanksgiving?”

I sighed morosely. “I suppose so. Please give my regards to Rachel and the kids.”

“You got it, bro! Laters!”

I shook my head sadly as I hung up the phone, reflecting on the numerous ways in which Roderick had squandered his life. Oh well, I suppose every family has to have a black sheep or two to make the others shine all the brighter. Speaking of which, time for me to get out of here — it’s two-for-one night down at Pete’s Poontang Emporium, and I don’t want to be late for the Presentation of the Whores. Peace out.

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Categories: Business, Culture, Dating, Drugs, Idiots

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