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tieunis :: parents (random drabble.)
Mom and dad had - have - a relationship of convenience.
I mean, really. Mom was such a commitmentphobe she got married when we were nine, and the only reason that happened at all was because she finally accepted dad's marriage proposal for the sole purpose of shutting him the hell up. And then she tried to back out of it by piling a dozen ridiculous demands on top of it all - it had to be in costume, in a rainforest, she was wearing faerie wings to the ceremony, she got picky about the attendants, you know - the whole nine yards. Even after that they spent most of their time with separate bedrooms. There was a door between them, sure, and of course dad snored and mom's a light sleeper - that was what they said. But you got the feeling that it just didn't work for them, not without a lot of maybes and a healthy dose of individualism. She was trying to stick it out for whatever reason - the sex, or maybe it was something other than that. I'd say it was the two of us, but that never really entered into it. We always knew that mom was the cat who walked by herself, and dad was the dog who ran alongside fetching tennis balls, but it never really did anything to the way they dealt with us.
Aunt Ilse was another thing. She was always around. Kind of like another mom - except bratty, kind of the punk-bad-girl version of a mom. She used to buy us beer and take us to the Army-Navy store and tell us dirty jokes in German. I seem to remember her teaching Sander everything he needed to know about fellatio using a banana, but I could be imagining that. She wouldn't teach me nothin' - said she wasn't giving away the good tricks.
Don't ask me how she knew what to teach Sander - aunt Ilse was a total lesbian. Apparently she'd learned it from some gay guy. Somethin', anyway. Bizarre family shit. When I was in college, in anthro classes we talked about lore and legend. It was always funny to think how someone a thousand years from now would have dealt with that - the image of a pink-haired chick in a miniskirt and army jacket, lips locked around a banana, and two teenage kids staring at her like she had the key to the goddamn Rosetta Stone.
What? I watched. Are you kidding? You can't pay to see shit like that. At least not without people thinking you're a total wack.
I mean, really. Mom was such a commitmentphobe she got married when we were nine, and the only reason that happened at all was because she finally accepted dad's marriage proposal for the sole purpose of shutting him the hell up. And then she tried to back out of it by piling a dozen ridiculous demands on top of it all - it had to be in costume, in a rainforest, she was wearing faerie wings to the ceremony, she got picky about the attendants, you know - the whole nine yards. Even after that they spent most of their time with separate bedrooms. There was a door between them, sure, and of course dad snored and mom's a light sleeper - that was what they said. But you got the feeling that it just didn't work for them, not without a lot of maybes and a healthy dose of individualism. She was trying to stick it out for whatever reason - the sex, or maybe it was something other than that. I'd say it was the two of us, but that never really entered into it. We always knew that mom was the cat who walked by herself, and dad was the dog who ran alongside fetching tennis balls, but it never really did anything to the way they dealt with us.
Aunt Ilse was another thing. She was always around. Kind of like another mom - except bratty, kind of the punk-bad-girl version of a mom. She used to buy us beer and take us to the Army-Navy store and tell us dirty jokes in German. I seem to remember her teaching Sander everything he needed to know about fellatio using a banana, but I could be imagining that. She wouldn't teach me nothin' - said she wasn't giving away the good tricks.
Don't ask me how she knew what to teach Sander - aunt Ilse was a total lesbian. Apparently she'd learned it from some gay guy. Somethin', anyway. Bizarre family shit. When I was in college, in anthro classes we talked about lore and legend. It was always funny to think how someone a thousand years from now would have dealt with that - the image of a pink-haired chick in a miniskirt and army jacket, lips locked around a banana, and two teenage kids staring at her like she had the key to the goddamn Rosetta Stone.
What? I watched. Are you kidding? You can't pay to see shit like that. At least not without people thinking you're a total wack.