A Little Tit For Tat

19-04-2014 Saturday

Why was it again that people got married? Love? According to the Everglots (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gstRzkg8ZX0) ‘liking’ each other has nothing to do with marriage. ‘Marriage is a partnership; a little tit for tat,’ is what Mrs Everglot thinks and sometimes I fear that she might just be right. Especially when I look at the marriages in my own family. I guess Mum and Dad’s relationship is not very different from the Everglots (though they look a lot better), at least as far as I can see. Don’t ask me about their bedroom adventures; I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Nobody wants to know these things about their own parents, right? I hope this didn’t make you think about your own parents … sorry.
Today, as a complete surprise, Uncle Jonesy visited us to talk about his divorce. Dad said he smelt of alcohol, but I think it was the open bottle of Johnny Walker in Jonesy’s hand that Dad smelt, but I’m not an expert in these things. Dad let him in, but I somehow wish he hadn’t. Jonesy tripped over a threshold that wasn’t there and fell on the ground. Luckily he broke his fall with his face. Dad called Mum who was upstairs doing Mum stuff,’ Jonesy dropped by to see you!’ Mum yelled back,’ Let him in, be right down.’ So Dad looked at Jonesy, who was still lying on the floor more dead than alive,’ Come in, she says and then he called up to Mum,’ He’s in!’
When Mum came down Jonesy was still lying on the floor, but he had curled up into some sort of foetus position. He was stammering something about love and wedding vows and kids, but it was mainly inaudible and sounded very childish. Dad said something about rebirthing, but I didn’t understand. It must have been very difficult for Mum to sympathise with Uncle Jonesy. Not only because he had been drinking a little, which made it a little harder to communicate with him, but also because everybody in our entire family was jumping for joy when they heard about the divorce; Nora was – and still is – not really very popular. While Jonesy was crying his eyes out, Mum was doing the very best she could to calm him down and tell him how sorry she was for him and how she wish they could sort out their problems and stay together.  
Mum doesn’t want them to stay together; I know that for sure. Just the other day I overheard her say to Dad,’ Good riddance to bad rubbish’. Here she was telling lies to poor ol’ Uncle Jonesy and she was getting away with it, too. I know of a person who’ll not be getting any Christmas presents this year! It’s too late to tell the Easter Bunny now, but Santa will hear about this. Mum’s lies weren’t of any use, anyhow, because each time she said something like,’ You can work this out,’ or ‘Everything will be just fine.’ Jonesy started screaming like a little kid,’ Noooooo, it’s not, nooo. Go away!’ 
After an hour Jonesy stuck his thumb in his mouth and fell asleep, right there, in our corridor, on the floor. That’s when Mum finally gave up. Dad had already given up. He gave up right after Jonesy had tripped over an imaginary threshold. I hadn’t even started anything yet, so nobody could call me a quitter. Mum walked into the room and closed the door behind her. For a couple of hours life went on as if Jonesy wasn’t here. We started watching a film and then another one. Halfway through that film the door opened, Jonesy walked in smelling even worse than before – I think he shat himself – and he said,’ Has anybody seen my house? I’m sure I left it here this morning.’ Mum took him upstairs and put him under the shower. I felt kind of sorry for him at that point but I no clue as to what I could do so I made him a drawing of smiling chicken. I guess we could all use a smiling chicken these days. 

I’m off to bed. I’ll look into this rebirthing thing in the morning, it sounded quite interesting. See me tomorrow (not too early, because it’s quite late already)