A Call From Mama

by Marinka on September 22, 2009

Scene: Marinka is home, sick in bed with a rare combination of swine flu and brain fever. She just read an email from Wendi, who expressed sadness about Marinka’s illness:

I just want to tell you in complete sincerity, that should your situation become dire and you need donated blood platelets or a kidney, don’t hesitate to call Kelcey.

Marinka tries to regain the will to live when Mama calls.

Mama: How are you feeling, Marinka?

Marinka: Sadly, mama, I cannot boast of good health.

Mama: Did you open the windows to air the germs out?

Marinka: (in hermetically sealed room) Yes.

Mama: Did you the open them in true? Because I know you nervous that Nicki falls out of window.

Marinka: Of course I did. I feel the germs are leaving the apartment. Oh, there goes another one.

Mama: Good. Fresh air is important for health. You need fresh air.

Marinka: I was just reading.

Mama: I was going to watch Judge Judy, but she’s not appearing. I don’t know.

Marinka: Maybe it’s on later.

Mama: Later not convenient. Later I have things to do. I give her ten more minutes.

Marinka: I’m hoping for the best.

Mama: You know, I saw picture of Cindy Crawford’s daughters–gorgeous.

She has one daughter and one son.

Mama: No, two girls. Beauties.

Marinka: I know the oldest is a boy because his name is Presley. And I am an US Weekly Scholar.

Mama: That means nothing. My neighbor had cat named Elvis. But he was cat, not a boy. Can’t go by names these days. Like that Orange.

Marinka: Apple.

Mama: Maybe Tangerine? Something citrus.

Marinka: Apple. Besides, why is it shocking that a supermodel has gorgeous children? If Quasimodo has beautiful children, then it’s newsworthy.

Mama: You be surprised. I see attractive parents, ugly children.


Mama: No. Not about present company. Are you sure it’s not Clementine?


Mama: Ok, calm down. This is why you get sick, you worry about nonsense and keep window closed. If it makes you happy, we say Cindy Crawford’s daughter is a boy. Named Apple. I’m making joke. Everything is ok, Marinka. Feel better.

Marinka: Thanks, Mama. I am feeling stronger now.


I am feeling better. Thanks everyone for your expressions of concern about my health. I assume that you’ve sent these concerns telepathically, since I haven’t received any in my inbox. On a related note, whoever said “it’s the thought that counts” misspoke. Or misthought. What really counts are gifts. And Apple.

One year ago ...

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