The Grandparents

My mother and father come over to the house quite often. They're grandparents now.

My mother kisses every child. "Well just come here and kiss your grandmummy. Mmm mmm mmm mmm mmm! Grandmummy just love her to death!" And my children think that my mother's the most wonderful person on the face of this earth, and I keep telling my children, "That's *not* the same woman I grew up with! You are looking at an old person, who's trying to get into Heaven now."

Yes, my mother hated my room. My mother would walk into my room and that's, that was it! All she had to do was see a shoe upside-down, and to her that was the filthiest room she'd ever seen -- my mother was an authority on pig sties: "This is the worst looking pig sty I have ever seen in my life! And I want it cleaned up!"

Never in my life did I ever say to my mother, "Mother! I'm going up to my filthy room, and sit in it in the name of God!" Yet my mother would come up to my room, and say, "How, in the name of God, can you sit in this filthy room?"

I love it when mothers give you another thing coming. "If you think that I was put on this earth to be your slave, you've got another thing coming. Think I'm gonna pick up your nasty underwear, you just put it any way you see fit?" And mothers are always more interested in the condition of your underwear than your body if you're ever in an accident! And they tell you that: "I hope, for my sake, if you're ever in an accident, you have on clean underwear." Well, I thought that's what an accident was! . . . Hey, look. You're driving the car, here comes a truck, gonna hit you. Now whether you hit the truck or not, YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE SOILED UNDERWEAR! Because first you say it, then you do it! Now here comes your mother to the hospital: "Did he have on clean underwear?" "Yes, we found it in the glove compartment."

I love it when mothers get so angry they can't remember your name. "Come here, uh, buh, Roy, uh, Roquefort, uh, Rutabaga -- What is your name, boy?! And don't lie to me, 'cos you live here, and I'll find out who you are."

"Take a stick and knock your brains out." I always wanted to get some calves' brains. Keep 'em in my hand. When my mother hit me in the head, I'd throw them on the floor. But knowing my mother, it wouldn't work -- "Put your brains back in your head! Did you let your brains fall out of your head, have you lost your mind?!" And that's another thing. They ask you a question, you try and answer, they tell you to shut up! "Day and night, night and day, work my fingers to the bone, for what?!" "I don't -- " "SHUT UP!! Now when I ask you a question, you keep your trap shut! Think I'm talking to hear myself talk? . . . ANSWER ME!!"

"Make me sick." My mother was sick eight hundred times a day. "I'm sick of this! And I'm sick of you! So sick I don't know what to do with myself. Now I am just sick and tired." And Tired always followed Sick. Worst beating I ever got in my life, my mother said "Now I am just sick -- " I said "And tired!" . . . I don't remember anything that happened that day.

But you see, fathers are altogether different. I'm not saying they're *better*, I'm saying they're *different*. See, first of all, my father did not give "beatings". My father hit . . . for distance. And from the age seven, my father established our relationship: Looked at me, he said, "You know, I brought you into this world and l can take you out. And it don't make no difference to me, 'cos I'll make another one look just like you."

And because of my father, from ages 7-13, I thought my name was Jesus Christ. That's all it ever was -- 'JEE-zus CHRIST!!" And my brother Russell thought his name was 'Dammit!' "Dammit, will you stop all that noise?! And JEE-zus Christ, siddown!!" So one day I'm out playing in the rain, my father said, "Dammit, will you get in here?" I said, "But Dad, I'm Jesus Christ!"

But you see, fathers are more fun than mothers, because fathers are the only people in the house who are allowed to have **gas**. And they don't care either. They just sit in the living room, "HONNNK!" And you always know when they're finished, 'cos they get up and say, "Ohhh, boy."

My father would do it and blame it on invisible animals: "HONNNNNK!! Did you see that elephant run under there?" And my brother was dumb enough to look for it. Now here comes my mother: "All right, you -- Oh Lord! What happened in here?!" "Uhh, Mom? There's an elephant under Dad's chair!" "Did you see it?" "No, but it lift Dad up about two feet."

D'you know my father's favorite game? "Come here and pull my finger."