I’ll get to all that’s been happening, or maybe some of it, but first – today is Sunday. How do I know? Elvis gospel on the radio. “Crazy times,” Bernie says. “I like XM/Sirius but the whole satellite radio business plan may be obsolete already.” No idea what he’s talking about. Right now they’re playing Milky White Way, my favorite.
It’s also Mother’s Day. Kind of confusing, two days at the same time. I’ll just have to run around faster. Bernie’s calling his mom. I’ve met her once: a piece of work. She lives somewhere far away with a new husband, or an even newer one. He puts her on speaker while he tries to get the coffee maker to work.
“Hi, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.”
“Thanks, Kiddo.” Bernie’s mom has a raspy voice, the kind humans get after they’ve been smoking for a long time. She calls Bernie kiddo – what’s up with that?
“Is there some problem?”
“Don’t you read the papers, Kiddo? There’s nothing but problems.”
“A pain in the ass. Aren’t you, Phil?” A man in the background says something I can’t make out.
“Any plans to come this way?” Bernie says.
“Hate the desert – you know that.”
“You’re always welcome.”
“Who taught you to lie so smoothly?”
“We both know the answer to that one,” Bernie says. She laughs, a hacking kind of laugh. Bernie laughs too. They laugh together for a bit. “Bye, Mom.”
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