Newscoma

Scene from Chez Coma:

“What you doing?” Homer asked me this morning. I was wandering around the house in an old MUMU and chasing after the dogs.

“I don’t know,” I said, eyeballing Duff, who had an unfortunate case of flatulence this morning and was grossing the whole house out. She has always been the smelly dog, even when she was younger.

“What are you doing today?” she said, playing the wordgame Bookworm on her laptop. She is the queen of Bookworm and can score up to a million points in one setting. Me. Not so good and I easily get bored with the game when bright and shiny things come into my line of sight. This is a serious problem I have, but it is best tonot mention it and move on.

“Nothing.” I answered as Duff went diving between my legs. I had no idea what I was going to do if I caught her, but the smell and the nasty funk she was exuding made me feel like a bath would be in order. However, baths do not help Duff. She has an on-going problem with a very distinct body odor that even grosses Mabel out. However, Mabel being the trooper, will lick her eyes on occasion. I have no idea why but it seems to be an occurrence that happens daily.

“I might have some beer and watch football,” replied as I sat down on the sofa. Duff had hit the staircase with lightening speed and was casting me a heavy dose of stink-eye. I could swear if she could cuss, she would have at that very moment. I know when I’m beat.

“Alright.” Homer does not drink except on very rare occasions. She doesn’t care if you drink, because she will laugh at you after you make an ass out of yourself. It’s her loving way. “I watched the Davinci Code last night.”

“Was it good?”

“It was long,” as that would explain everything to me. I know Homer pretty well. If she likes a show, she will tell me every single scene in the entire movie and will inadvertently spoil the ending, meaning I don’t have to go to a lot of movies. It’s actually very time efficient and being that she is, at most times with two young children, at kids movies this methodology at Chez Coma works to both of our advantages.

“Hey, you guys rented the Davinci Code?” Squirrely hollered from up the staircase. She was holding Duff. I decided not to say anything about Duff’s bad belly. Her stench, however, is known worldwide and this was a choice that Squirrely made on her own.

“You want to watch it,” she said and it took me a moment to decipher she was speaking to me. Something bright and shiny had caught my eye and I was in my own little world.

“Hey, are you listening?” she said again, obviously perturbed.

“Seven,” I said. I learned this trick from Homer. If a person isn’t listening, sometimes blurting a number out will keep the wolves at bay. It didn’t work this rainy day.

“You aren’t listening, are you?” Squirrelly sighed. Duff continued to give me stinkeye and I had an overwhelming urge to stick my tongue out at her.

Homer just laughed and abrutly tried to wrestle the remote from the nieces who had entered stage left, who wanted to watch Hannah Montana. The adults all agreed that if we have to watch another episode of Hannah Montana, we would all go seriously postal.

“Nope,” I said with my award-winning grin in response to Squirrely’s question, which I thought might tantalize her with it’s incandescent quality. It has been known to work. Other times, it has failed miserable.

“Asshat,” she said and there was not doubt her comment was directed at me, your kind host, as she wandered back up the stairs holding the smelly dog.

But I have a beer sitting next to me and the tube is showing images of the Jets losing to New England, which was not what I wanted to happen, but, hell, it’s football.