(ring ring)

My Mother: “Hello?”

Me: “Hey Mom, it’s me. I think I caught Dad’s cold.”

My Mother: “Oh no. He’s still sick!”

Me: “Yeah, it’s like that. I’m considering going into phone sex until this stupid shit is gone. I could make a killing if I could find the dudes with a fetish for chicks who cough and sound like Thelma from The Simpsons.”

My Mother (dryly): “Sounds like a great idea.”

Me: “Hey, work with what you got, right?”

My Mother (laughs): “Did you take some Tylenol?”

Me: “No, I don’t have any. I’ve been alternating between the heat and air, trying to get comfortable. Waging war on this fucking virus.”

My Mother: “Well, I have some Tylenol.”

Me: “I can swing by a little later and pick it up.”

My Mother: “Oh, I can drop it off. You live four seconds away.”

Me: “Wow. Cool. Okay. You sure?”

My Mother: “Can you meet me in the parking lot? My knee is killing me.”

Me: “Sure, no problem.”

My Mother: “See you soon.”

Me:  “Sweet, thanks, Ma.”

—————–

(thirty minutes later)

Me (thinks): “Wow, she’s driving that fancy new car awfully slowly through the parking lot. I hope she at least put the Tylenol in a brown bag or something so it doesn’t look… suspicious. The last thing I need is my neighbors to think I’m a drug dealer. Wait, maybe I should play the part – I got some aviator sunglasses somewhere. I bet I could get one of those nose/mustache/fake glasses things so I look like I’m trying to be “in disguise.” Or I could go knocking on the doors of my neighbors, holding my baggie of Tylenol, so it makes me look all suspicious. That’d be kinda funny until the police came. I’d probably get arrested for the indecent wearing of sequins or something. I can never keep up with the laws about Being Gaudy In Public. And GOOD LORD OF BUTTER, Ma, can you LOOK any more suspicious driving through my parking lot? Probably not. At least, I don’t know how. Maybe I should get HER some of those novelty glasses or something so it REALLY looks like we’re being illicit. ARGGG! MA, DON’T RUN ME OVER.”

Me (walking up to the driver’s side window): “Thanks Ma, for bringing these by. I’m in some sorry shape.”

My Mom: “Well, I hope you feel better. (rustles around in her bag for a couple of seconds while I stand there, looking suspicious.) Here you go!”

Me: “HOLY FUCK, MA. We look like DRUG DEALERS.”

My Mom (laughs): “Go knock on some doors and see if you can sell the pills.”

Me: “MOM! I need to LIVE HERE. I can’t try to sell my neighbors TYLENOL.”

My Mom (giggles): “Yeah, I guess you should try and sell ‘em the GOOD stuff.”

Me: “What, like Ibuprofen?”

My Mom: “NOW you’re talking.”

Me (laughs): “All right, Mom, thanks again. You and Dad will have to come over and see the new space soon.”

My Mom: “Sounds good!”

Me: “Bye – thanks again!”

My Mom: “Be sure to get top dollar for those pills – they’re EXTRA STRENGTH.”

Me: “MOOOOOMMMMMMMM!”

(she drives off)

Me (looking down at the bag): “Holy fucksticks. I’d better get inside before someone sees me.”

my mother, the drug dealer

And THAT is how my mother became my Tylenol Dealer.

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