(Thanks, Decrain for the word…)

The dragon has been riding me hard–I’m antisocial, irritated, and exhuasted.

And, thanks mom, now I’m guilty.

So there I was, napping with the short people before soccer practice, and enjoying every nanosecond of it, when the phone rang.

“Hi, Mom–what’s up?”

“What’s up with you–I haven’t heard from you for a while!”

“We were just catching a nap…”

“And this is why I haven’t heard from you for a while?”

“Well, we’re having Chicken’s birthday party tomorrow.”

“What are you doing?”

“Pizza and ice cream, uhm,” brain flash–hey, maybe they feel left out! “want to come over for it?”

“Yeah– as a matter of fact, yes! What time should we be there?”

Continue conversation. Make note to self: CLEAN THE FREAKING HOUSE, DAMMIT!!!! Mention the writing and the sold story and maybe try to explain why this sudden new novel has been sucking your social, family, and professional life into the dragon’s black maw.

And then mom hits you with a whopper: “So–when do I get to read them?”

Blush. “Mom–they’re really really dirty!”

“So–do you think I haven’t done that stuff before?”

Another mental note: purchase inner-eyeball-bleach and permanent-cortical-rinse.

“I prayed I’d never have to think about that.”

“Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I haven’t done some of that stuff before.”

Desperation. “MOO-OOMMMMM–I’VE never done that stuff before!!!” Mostly because I’m not a gay male, but still.

“But you’ve imagined it, haven’t you?”

Uhm… well… obviously. “Uhm…well… YEAH!”

“Would you like to know the book I just read? It’s really dirty! My nice Mormon friend gave it to me–do you want to know the title?”

“Please God no. I’m sending them. I’ll send them to you. I’m sending them now.”

“Good–would you like to stop talking about this?”

Thank you, God. “Yes please.”

“Good–now what does Chicken want for her birthday–clothes?”

*whimper* “Uhm, yeah. Clothes are good.”

And then, after I’ve hung up.



“Grandma wants to give you clothes for your birthday. You’re welcome to say they’re not your thing.”

“Mooooommmmmmm!!!! I always feel bad when I don’t like them!”

“I know, baby. You can tell me and I’ll tell her. She said that’s okay.”


“And another thing, baby.”


“You know how I let you read ‘IF I MUST’?”


“I just sent it to Grandma. Do me a favor and tell her I edited the sex out for your version, would you?”

“I’ll do my best not to mention it. EVER.”

“Yeah. If only that was an option.”

0 thoughts on “Convos…”

  1. JenB says:

    OMG. Love it.

    I'd DIE if my mom ever got a hold of any of my books, especially the ones in my nightstand. Even scarier if I were the one writing them. o.O

  2. Galad says:

    I didn't even like to read books with sex in front of my mother!

    Hope she loves it 🙂

  3. Being that my mother is the one who gave me your books to read, I've kind of had to come to terms with the fact that my mom reads chick porn and she's had to come to terms with the fact that I read chick porn. We're both pretty okay with that. on the other hand, frogs and turtles would rain from the sky before I would admit to my nana that I read chick porn.

  4. Eeeewwwww parent sex!!!

    Could be worse, Dad could be knocking on the door while you're having sex on the living room couch. Not that I've ever had that happen…

  5. Louiz says:

    Ug. At least she wants to read your work:)

  6. DecRainK says:

    OMG I'm so glad I have WAY different tastes in reading than my mother, and that she doesn't know i write poems or anything so i don't have to share!
    *shudder* poor poor Amy.

  7. roxie says:

    At least it isn't your DAD wanting to read the gay sex stuff.

    Uhh, does your mom, ever read your blog?

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