My parents are coming to America pretty damned soon (about two weeks). I’m sorta stoked. It’ll be nice to have my folks close by in case shit hits the fan, but man…that’s a little too close for comfort. THEY COULD POP IN AND VISIT IN A FEW HOURS’ TIME! What if they announce themselves when I have a dude over?! Mum will probably try to kill the guy; Pops’ll high five me…and then help Mum commit murder. That’s what’ll happen… I’ve only seen one dude survive that shit, and he didn’t even meet the broskis.
I Skyped with the rents, and Mama Fizz is already talking about flying me out to Louisville on weekends for afternoon tea and stuff~ And by “tea” I mean “tequila.” That lady can put it away. I will never be as good at drinking as my parents. Even during my Old Mission Days they could’ve drunk me under the table. I’m convinced they have bionic livers.
Sad news: I think they’re gonna give my doggy Socks to one of my father’s coworkers. She’s an old dog now, and Mum isn’t sure if the place they’re moving to will allow pets. I wanna cry. Socks has been a companion for about ten years. What if she dies of a broken heart? Eh, at least she won’t be eaten. Silver linings, silver linings…
Aaaaaaand I told the parents about my appointment for this Tuesday about the cancer.
Yeah… I think they’re freakin’, but they’re masters of waiting until the fat lady sings. I think my father took it harder because we almost lost Mum to a similar cancer about twelve years back. It probably took him to some dark times.
Jecca, you may have already done this because you’re my daughter, but don’t try to drown your worries in booze; they’re equipped with flotation devices. Get it checked out, and we’ll see you on the flip side. Love you, scrackle head foo’.