29 October 2012

2 storytelling


in july 2010, my parents started getting ready for something. they did not know precisely what. but, to that end, they completed a disaster relief course.

this past week, when they came to town, they brought their disaster relief kits and pitched camp on my living room floor. this is how, after we spent a solid twenty minutes googling gungnum style, i wound up sitting perched between my parents blow up beds regaling them with tales of princess diana and the stigma of celebrity mental illness.

in the middle of my recounting of martin bashir's betrayal against earl spencer, when my mother had put on her sleeping mask and it looked like my dad had dozed off, i said, "well, it's probably time to go to bed."

and without opening his eyes, my dad said, "you can't stop in the middle." and, without removing her mask, my mom said, "you have to finish our bedtime story."

2 comments:

Meggie said...

I'm going to start calling you for my bedtime stories. Mike's sucks. It is two sentences and then he falls asleep.

Linda said...

oh, love!