So finally we were out of Adam and Allan’s house where we had Thanksgiving dinner, and like the first words out of Joyce’s mouth were:
“Munchausen’s by proxy.”
“Munchausen’s syndrome by proxy. It’s what Adam’s sister has. And Ethan’s such a sweet child too.”
“I could tell she was a total hypochondriac…but what’s that other thing?”
“It’s when the mother makes the child sick so she’ll attract attention to herself.”
“Ok, that’s seriously fucked up. How do you know?”
“I’m sure – and so is Adam – that she slipped some kind of emetic into the drink with the drops she gave Ethan after he’d eaten his starvation rations. To make him throw up.”
“That’s…that’s child abuse. Somebody should do something. You say Adam knows?”
“Yes. But let’s say he does call social services…the kid is going to be taken away and could end up in foster care. Is he going to better off there?”
“Ethan’s dad should do something.”
“You saw him.” She shook her head.
“Yeah, he could use some toxic masculinity.” Then, after a couple seconds: “do you think that scaryass lesbian was right and I have toxic masculinity?”
“If you do, I like it. It’s hot that my boyfriend can knock guys down playing football.”
So I reckon y’all aren’t the only people I told about Block blocks lol.
I didn’t want to trash the dinner to Joyce, since she’s friends with Allan, but it seriously wasn’t the best time of my life. And, yeah, I missed home. A lot. I’m sure I could have dealt with it much better if I’d had a beer or two. And I mean a real beer. Allan got in some non-alcoholic beer and I had a couple of those, but they taste like watery Bud Light. And, if you’ve been reading my blog, y’all should know by now that I’m not a Bud Light kinda guy.
I got Joyce home and got the Tesla into the garage, but I didn’t go in. I really did have to get up early for Black Friday, and I had a headache from all the craziness at dinner.
I was fixin to go home, but I changed my mind when I was crossing the 210. I pulled over and texted Keaton to see if he was around. He was, and so I headed over to Mentor and headed down to his place. I was okay when I left Joyce’s, but I was getting more and more pissed off on the drive. And what’s the best place to get all gay and complain and be told how gay I’m being?
Keaton had Sports Center on the TV when I got there. He hit the mute button and got us each a beer before I even opened my mouth.
“So how gay was it?”
“It was pretty gay, but one of the gay dudes was real cool. He didn’t act gay, and he definitely knew about sports. He’s a sportswriter for one of the Mexican papers. And he’s got this bilingual sportstalk show. His husband” (Keaton made a face – he can’t get used to one dude calling another dude his husband) “was cool too.”
“Did Allan stare at el guapo all night?”
“Yeah, he did. He even baked me a sweet potato pie.”
“Doesn’t that piss Adam off? He’s a pretty easygoing dude, but I don’t know how I’d feel if my wife kept staring at another dude the way Allan stares at you, bubba.”
“He did get pissed off. But not at me, we’re good. I don’t reckon he was exactly pissed off at Allan either. What got him pissed off was that Allan was being so obvious and everybody noticed. The scaryass lesbian even called him on it.”
“There was a scaryass lesbian? Was anybody straight?”
“Yeah. There was Adam’s sister, her husband and their kid. But I was better off down on my end of the table with the gay guys. The family was super fucked up – Adam’s sister is batshit crazy. Joyce thinks she gave the kid something to make him throw up so she’d be the center of attention.”
“Munchausen’s by proxy?”
How come everybody knows about that but me?
“That’s what Joyce called it, yeah.”
“That shit’s totally fucked up. One of the waitresses at the bar I worked at in Fairbanks had it. One time, the poor kid ended up in the hospital. A bunch of us got together and practically beat some sense into the dad. Last I heard they were getting a divorce.” He went to get us another couple beers. I was feeling way better after the first one.
Once he was back on the couch he asked:
“So was anything normal?”
“Besides the sportscaster dude and his husband?”
“Bubba, can you call him something else? You know how husband creeps me the fuck out when a dude says it.”
“Yeah, but they all say husband. You gotta be inclusive, man.”
The look on Keaton’s face told me what he thought of inclusivity.
“How was the food?”
“Totally gayass. There was some kind of maple glaze on the turkey, and every side dish had some fancyass ingredient ruining it.”
“So you missed Meemaw.”
“A lot. The sweet potato pie was the best thing. Now that we’re talking about it, I’m starting to feel hungry.”
“You want a slice of pumpkin pie?”
“Was that your whole dinner?”
“I got a big order of Wingstop to go with the pie, and a few Pilsner Urquells while I watched football. I made 50 bucks betting on the Cowboys.”
Wingstop would have been a heck of a lot better than maple glazed turkey. And, for pumpkin pie, the Trader Joe’s isn’t bad. At least with a big scoop of Breyer’s cinnamon swirl ice cream on top.
I hung out for a while to digest my pie, then I told Keaton I needed to get going. But I did need to ask how he was feeling after I’d steamrollered him at turkey bowl.
“I’m gonna have a bruise, but I’ve dealt with lots worse. I’ll hand it to you, bubba – you hit me pretty fuckin hard. Good thing you didn’t lay into me the way you laid into that jerkoff motherfucker.”
“I told you a Block block was a thing.”
Yeah, I was feeling kinda proud of myself.
“The jerkoff deserved what he got. He pulls the same shit on you two years running? I’m telling you, bubba: he hates you because of your looks. He ain’t got no girlfriends giving him gayass Cody Bellinger diamond necklaces.” He looked up at the clock on the shelf. “You’d better get going. What time do y’all open tomorrow?”
“Usual time, but they want us there at 8:30 to get ready for the invasion. I hope it’s not like last year. That was crazy.”
“You want another beer for when you get home?”
“Thanks, man. I’m set. You’re right about these being good, though.”
I got out of the bean bag and Keaton walked me to the door.
“One more thing about that hit you put on me this morning…”
“I’d start sleeping with one eye open if I were you.”