Birthday Bash (Pt. 2)

(Continued from Birthday Bash)

Bleep.

Bleep. Bleep. Bleep.

BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP!

My Blackberry is nagging at me. Like crazy Glenn Close from FATAL ATTRACTION, my Blackberry 'WON'T BE IGNORED!" At first, my Blackberry issues me a friendly reminder that I have an 'appointment' in the next 15 minutes. When I don't respond to it's friendly reminder, it starts to become indignant, it's bleeps stronger and more insistent. I refuse to touch it. I curl up in bed and childishly pretend that if I don't respond to my Blackberry, that my parental responsibilities will disappear and I won't have to drag my fat ass to yet another child's Saturday morning birthday EXTRAVAGANZA. Enraged, my Blackberry starts to vibrate, it's friendly chirps have turned into something darker and more sinister.

"Get up, Queen."

"GET UP, QUEEN!"

"GET THE FUCK UP, QUEEN!" my Blackberry seems to be shrieking.

I pull the covers over my head and contemplate throwing my Blackberry out the window. My 6 year old son Ethan, who has the high frequency hearing of a Labrador, bursts into my room, dressed in his homemade, handcrafted old-school Batman costume. (Of course I didn't make it. I hired the nanny from across the street to stitch that shit together. Do I look like Betsy Ross?!) Ethan lovingly scoops up my spurned Blackberry. He expertly keys in my access code and stops the infernal thing from chirping. I remain under the covers motionless, hoping Ethan will come to believe I've died in my sleep.

"Get up, Dad."

I ignore him.

"Dad, Get up!"

I continue to ignore him.

"Dad, I know you're not dead. I can see your chest going up and down."

"I'm in a coma." I mumble.

"If you were in a coma, you wouldn't be able to talk."

HOW DOES HE KNOW THESE THINGS? Goddamn high-performance charter school!

Ethan rips the covers off of me. I have shifted my position and am now on my side fetus-like. Ethan drops to his knees and stares into my blank, red-rimmed, puffy eyes. My breath remains shallow, my body tortured and contorted, the drool silently oozing from my slacken mouth. I resemble Sunny von Bulow, save the graying, douche bag beard I'm presently sporting. My son regards me pitifully and even places a tender kiss to the top of my head. He rises as if to leave, his hands and face out of my field of vision. An instant passes, and all at once I feel a wet, sloppy index finger shoved into my ear canal while my son shrieks 'Wet Willy!' Ethan's hands are tiny and disturbingly raccoon-like. I'm convinced his pointy little index finger has not only punctured my ear drum, but has skewered the living daylights out of that pile of putrid, decaying shit that serves as my brain.

I howl in pain and leap out of bed. I resemble Jack Nicholson from THE SHINING, my hand to my wounded ear, chasing an unrepentant, Batman-attired Ethan while careening throughout the house knocking into walls and stumbling over the 'wealth' of tasteful gay debris that my husband George and I have meticulously collected over the years. I finally corner Ethan in our kitchen. Like a wild thing, his eyes are nervous and shifty - his face flushed. As I burst into the room, he fakes right, but I anticipate and am able to grab him from the left. I pull him close to me and grind my course and unruly douche bag beard against his tender cheek and 'motorboat' his tummy. He shrieks in fake pain, and through his tears of laughter insists that we have to get the 'Bat Prius' ready for 'Cody's Super, Superer, Superest Birthday Party.' He informs me that I am to serve as Alfred, to his Bruce Wayne. How appropriate I think dryly, I'm his faithful servant even in our fantasy lives.

Batman and I pile into the 'Bat Prius' and head down to ritzy Handcock Park. As we make our way though the immaculate, verdant streets and pull up to friend Cody's stately mansion, I am alarmed to see not only a fully staffed valet stand and balls-to-the-wall security detail, but a fully festooned red carpet repleat with fake paparazzi wildly snapping glittery photos of arriving guests. Ethan is astonished and squeels with delight while I make a silent vow to find the bar as quickly as possible!

(To Be Continued)