<< Minigolf | The Bad Review Revue >>
My Mother the Comedian

My mother phones me.

"Matt," she says, "did you see they're making a Spider-man movie?"

"Yeah, I think I heard about that," I reply. Actually, I've been following the progress of this movie since, like, 1986.

"Well, when it comes out I want to go see it with you."

Really? My mother's more of a "Runaway Bride" kinda gal, not really one to get all jazzed up for a guy who can stick to walls. "You want to see the Spider-man movie?" I ask. "With me?"

"That's right."

"Well, I mean that's fine, great. But why do you want, you know, why?"

"Well, when you were five or six there was this tv show called "The Electric Company." You used to love this show, except that they would have Spider-man on there sometimes, and he used to terrify you. Every time he came on-screen you would burst into tears and run and hide in your bedroom. So I figured I ought to come along with you to the movie, just in case it gets scary."

Ha ha, my mother the comedian. She's apparently unaware that forgetting everything you did before the age of 10 is a natural psychological defense mechanism against crippling humiliation. Why are you reminding me of this stuff, ma? You're messin' with evolution here!

Posted on April 19, 2002 to