Dec. 25, 2012

Christmas Eve Eve

On the 23rd I had a bad thing happen... my care wouldn't start. Of all the days! I had to go to my mothers to have dinner with the Del Guercio's, and wouldn't you know it; my car was dead. The battery had died literally over night.

Anyhow, my dad comes by, and he takes me there so I can sign my book for the family and give my grandmother her gift. So I stay there, because my father told me that he'd jump my car with my mothers. Everything went swimmingly, until the end of the night when my dad finds that there was a little bit of spaghetti gravy on my mothers new suede kitchen chairs, and he goes from tough Italian man, to little old lady in five seconds.

"Oh my God," he says in his best imitation of an Italian grandmother. "This is suede! This will never come out." He takes a sponge and wipes it off. "It's never gonna be right again!"

So I walk out into the living room, and my mom asks me what is going on, I tell her, repeating everything that he just said in my best little old lady voice. She laughs and tells me that I should write a book about that. "Yeah," I say. "How young Italian men become Italian grandmothers when they grow up." -Laughs-

About ten minutes later he comes out and starts to say that he doesn't care about it, he just cares that they're my mother's chairs. "Sure," I say. "That's why."

My mother and I laugh and laugh, and then he takes me home in order for him not to be able to jump start my car. -Hangs head-

It was one hell of a day to say the least.

Signed,

The Fiction Writer