Dirty Old Prom Queen

In '98 I was the prom queen and in '06 I hang out with queens. I'm a private tutor during the day and a comedian at night in ol' NYC. I just can't seem to get out of high school...can someone call the custodian? Vesuvio, I'm locked in!

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Take My Breath Away

Last night, I was on the phone with my mother having a normal conversation and she giggled at something and then she paused and said, "I've lost my breath." And then the phone went dead.

What? Mom?

She's thousands of miles away in California and the phone has gone dead. What did she mean she lost her breath? We weren't jogging. Mom?

And thusly, I panic. Will I now, as the oldest, raise my younger brothers...one of whom has yet to get to high school?

Yes, I will.

But wait!!! She may still be alive. Call back, Lang! CALL BACK!!!

I do. The line is busy. I call again. Still busy. And again. Busy, busy, busy.

At what point after your mother says that she has "lost her breath," do you call an ambulance? So, I sat there, potentially motherless, eating a cheese and pepperoni hot pocket, anxiety-ridden, wondering if I should call the Santa Cruz police department.

I should try the house again. Just one more time. If no one picks up, then I call the authorities and buy a red eye ticket to the West Coast.

I call once more...busy. Jesus! Is she literally lying on the floor, where her organic juicer lays in shreds as she had tried to grab something before she went down? Oh, the thought!

As precious seconds passed, I was packing my suitcase, filled with everything including the jelly jar of nickels I had earned on my early morning Brooklyn paper route.

Authorities had yet to be alerted. Call again. BUSY!

Washing my hot pocket dish was the most poignant moment of my life. My mother was dead and now I was the mother of my young brothers. Where would everyone sleep? My Brooklyn apartment was too small. Had she left us any money to get by? Would we all work in the mines? Would I have to sell my hair or the wedding ring that no one has given me?

One last call..."Lang? Heyyyy! Sorry 'bout that."

The thick Southern accent slaps me in the face like an insolent newborn. "You're alive?" I whisper as I heat up another Hot Pocket. "But I thought you lost your breath? The phone? The phone was dead? I thought you too were..."

"Oh no, sweetie, I lawst mah BARRETTE. MAH BARRETTE! And I gayess I leeyunned on the phooone to git it."

Hmm. Well, at least my response time was good.


  • At 11:51 PM, Blogger Rune said…

    Your mom is black?

  • At 7:51 AM, Blogger Katy said…

    oh my god, that's the best story ever.

  • At 11:47 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Loved it!

  • At 5:30 PM, Blogger P-Diddy in Sin City said…

    I had a similar experience when I was on the phone with my 2,000 mile away mom, both of us driving, when she says, "Well, you know how Uncle Dan can be...OHHH MY GODDDD LADY JESUS CHRIST AHHHH!" and phone goes dead. I'm driving through the desert losing my shit, called stepfather, he begins losing shit, only to find out, some lady ran a red light and almost hit....a cat. Moms. They just know how to freak us out.


Post a Comment

<< Home