Fun With Mother Ch 01

Warning: this story contains disturbing themes and mature content, viewer discretion is advised. This is an introduction to what I hope is a long and fulfilling new series, inspired by another great writer on this same site.

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My mother has always been a little different from the other moms. When it was time for class pot-luck meals, mother would always send father in with dishes that didn't quite belong, like bread stuffing, or rum-raisin cake to a class of children. I think, through the years she became progressively worse, or perhaps I began to see more. At dinner time, she would break wind, pick her nose at the table, sneeze and forget to wipe her face until reminded by father. As a child these things went unnoticed, seen through the eyes of love, but as I matured into adolescence, all of mother's weird quirks began to build a picture.

Each strange occurrence was a puzzle piece, my inquiring intelligent mind could not help but gather and put together. Coming home from school I noticed mother sneeze over the meal she was prepping, and allows the mucus to run down her chin and plop into the pot. I watched through the kitchen window as Father came up behind her, blotted her face and took her by the hand to the bathroom.

Father fell ill; years of working overtime at the insulation manufacturing plant filled his lungs with little fibers, leading to of all things, cancer. The once mighty man with a love of Sunday Golf now spends more and more of his days at home, coughing behind closed doors.

Her weight gain began to become a problem, as she consumed more empty calories and left the house less; her body ballooned under the large shapeless house clothes she seemed to never run out of, breasts filling out like parade floats. My teenage hormones took notice of this expansion, and as father's health worsened, hers seemed to improve in opposite measure. With her new diet her skin and hair began to shine and as his grip on the household loosened she began eating all the things that were once forbidden. Mother's rear blossomed and spread, each cheek floating independently under her gown. There began to be a smell, as mother was forced to clean her own body. I noticed all these things and more with growing curiosity until one day in the summer father called me up to his bedroom, the tone of his voice allowing for no objection.

I jogged upstairs and stopped at the doorway, unsure and waiting for an invitation to enter.

"Close the door son, we have to have a man to man talk."

I dutifully step over the threshold and close the door blinking as my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. I pad across the room slowly, taking a seat on the bed that he shares with my mother.

Father clears his throat before he begins. "Look son, You're 18 now, becoming a man and I know that you've been noticing things. I've been letting things slide around here, and I'm going to level with you... your mother is not all there."

I nod silently, excited to see my suspicions confirmed.

"In point of fact, your mother has always been a little slow, god bless her soul. I found her all those years ago wandering down the road, those bright blue eyes calling out for help. I asked her where she was going, did she need help, and she couldn't say, just ran up to the car and hopped in. I knew something was off about her, but... well one day you'll understand."

Again I nod silently, thinking back to the recent times that I've done things for girls without thinking of the consequences, simply because of the fact that they are girls.

Father continues "I took her home with me that day and she jumped into the kitchen like it was her home. Now you have to understand, back in those days... women were expected to cook clean, to become mothers and housewives. It's not like it is now, dual incomes and all. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I'm just saying that... well things were different back then. Sure I asked at the sheriff's station, to see if anyone reported a lost family member. They said no one had, and left it at that. Not long after your mother stopped sleeping on the couch, and the rest as they say is history."

Father pauses and takes a sip of cloudy water from his favorite mug. Swallowing he continues "I'm not well son, and I won't be around forever. That god damn doctor tells me I have three months, tops, before the cancer that is eating me from the inside out wins the battle."

This frank admission of his mortality shocked me, and it must have been written all over my face because father interrupts "Now, don't go all teary eyed on me. We all knew that one day you'd have to take over as man of the house; it just arrived a little sooner than expected. Life is like that, son, it never waits until you're ready, it just happens."

He takes another sip before swallowing and continuing "Now, you take after me, thank Jesus, so you already know part of what I'm going to tell you. You need to take care of your mother after I'm gone, son."

I nod emptily, the full impact of what father is telling me not quite reaching me. Father notices and shakes his head with a sigh. "I'll spell it out for you so that there can be no misunderstanding. Son, your mother is retarded, ok? She isn't all there, and lord knows she's only getting worse with time. Nearest I can figure she's in her forties now, she had no ID when I took her in so we just fudged a few figures and had Molly down at the courthouse make us up a new birth certificate so she could get a social security card and all that. She's getting on in years, and needs more care, do you understand?"

I nod again, still not fully understanding what father was telling me. Is he saying that she's some sort of... invalid? Will I have to hire an attendant? Put her up in a home?

As if reading my mind father continues "And no, you are NOT putting her up in a home. A woman of her years and intelligence would not fare well in the care of strangers, she needs a loving touch. Promise me that, ok son? No matter what happens, or how hard it gets down the road, you will not put mother up in some wait-to-die home." Gripping my hand in his he repeats his request "Promise me son."

I nod and say quietly "I promise, pop. Is there anything else I need to know? To be honest this conversation has me a little creeped out."

Father nods and says "Hand me that notepad on the dresser behind you, I'm going to jot down a few things for your eyes and your eyes alone." I retrieve the yellow blue lined legal pad and sit back on the edge of the bed. "Ok son, bear with me because some of this is going to be hard to hear - but something tells me that if I don't get it out now I may not get the chance."

Father dictates as he writes "First, your mother can't go outside like she used to. She's always had a problem getting lost, heck that's how we met, so you have to do your damnedest to keep her in this house. You let her wander out those doors and you might never see her again. Understand?"

I nod, and he continues "Secondly, your mother has a few bad habits, things that most of us outgrow as we age. You'll have to learn to work around those things, and have a little understanding when they happen, alright? That's your mother, your flesh and blood for god's sake, so just... give her the benefit of the doubt."

I frown and ask "What kind of things, dad? I saw her sneeze in the stew the other day, and you took her by the hand and led her away from the kitchen. What was that?"

Dad shakes his head and says "You saw that huh? Well, the truth of the matter is your mother shit herself, right there in the kitchen. If you were inside you would have smelled it, god help her that woman has an appetite like a bear and the crap to match." Seeing the look of disgust on my face he exclaims "Oh, climb down off your tall horse there, little miss. It's the goddamn cycle of life, your mother and later me cleaned your shit for the first four years of your life, so cut her some slack."

I look down, embarrassed at my reaction. Father continues "Don't beat yourself up, your feelings are your feelings and no one can say that you're wrong for having them. Just, try to mix in a little understanding when you have them, alright? Your mother in has a weak bladder and might have a little accident every now and then, it's up to you to help her out."

I nod and gamely reply "I have noticed a little bit of a smell lately. I guess that explains it."

Father nods and says "Yeah, well, I'm stuck here in this bed so I can't really wipe for her like I used to. She knows how, but... well let's just say she doesn't give her back door the attention it deserves."

I grimace, thinking of the days ahead. Father pats me on the leg and says "Now, now it's not that bad. Keep her on a balanced diet and there won't be much mess to clean up. Ok, on to the next thing, and this will be the hardest pill for you to swallow, so brace yourself."

I shake my head and reply "Braced."

Dad nods and says "There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just come right out and say it - your mother is a nymphomaniac."

Father waits for a beat before continuing "Yes, she loves sex, in all its forms. With me around that wasn't an issue, your dad knows his way around the bedroom and this isn't my first rodeo, if you get my drift."

I grin and say the obligatory "Daaaaad!"

Father smiles "Yeah yeah, I know. Gross. But, its' a fact of life that I'm sure you yourself is becoming aware of, I see how you look at the girls now when we're out at the mall. Ain't nothing wrong with it, it's as natural as the air we breathe or the water we drink. After I'm gone, your mother is going to need to keep that part of her life... fulfilled."

I stare, scared at what father will say next.

"What I mean to say is that it's going to be your job to keep her sex toys stocked with batteries, OK? It's not pretty, but there it is. I've been weaning her off the real stuff and teaching her how to use that... aw man what's the name... Hyundai, Mitsubishi... Hitachi! Yeah that's it. The Hitachi magic wand, but she is skittish of that big heavy thing and tends to prefer the smaller, battery powered doo-dads. She can never match the positive and negatives on her toys, and that job just became mine. Just like changing the remote battery, you'll have to go and give them a wipe-down, change the batteries and make sure they are in good condition."

I start at that last sentence and ask "Good condition, pop? What kind of..." Father cuts me off and says "You mother doesn't really pay attention to the small details, and if one of those things develops a jagged edge or the protective coating starts to slip, she won't notice until it's inside her and ripping her up."

I nod; mollified and somehow glowing from the amount of trust that father is placing in me. Once again as if reading my mind father says "I trust you son, you and no one else with this. Sure, I could hire a home health attendant and school him on the dos and don'ts of caring for your mother - I have the money from the settlement and..."

I cut him off mid sentence "Settlement, pop? What settlement?"

Father nods, and says slowly "Yeah... that was the next item on the list. The factory settled out of court with me when they heard about my cancer, to the tune of a couple of million dollars, with the agreement that I'll keep my mouth shut about it and die quietly. Your mother doesn't know - she just knows that the cable keeps playing, the food gets delivered and the lights stay on. Part of that settlement was the understanding that if any of my family members spills the beans, we'll have to give it all back, so... mum's the word. Got it?"

I can't contain the grin that splits my face "You mean to say that we're rich?"

Father shakes his head "No son, we're not rich. I set up a trust fund, hired a money manager, so that money is all tied up in things that are way above mine and your heads, and rightly so. We're living off the interest of all those investments, a couple of thousand a month will come into the joint account that'll add you to. This money is already earmarked and will be automatically distributed to the important things, mortgage, electric, etc."

Noticing the look of disappointment on my face father says "Oh don't worry, I added in a little extra for you to play with. All the new responsibilities you'll have to assume when I'm gone will come at a price to you, and I don't know if you'll have time to work or even lead a full life until your mother passes on. I know it's a burden, so I threw in a couple of hundred for you. I think you'll find in time that you won't really have use for money, or going out. I'll leave that for you to discover."

Father hands me his now empty mug and says "OK, that's about it. I'll add a few more items to this list, and leave it here by the bed. You won't have to worry about the things we spoke about today for a good long while, lord willing, but I needed to get it out of the way. Go on downstairs and get some food in you, and check in on your mother. She should be in the TV room watching her soaps, so bring her some water, OK? Good boy. If you have any questions, come up and knock twice. If I don't answer, I'm sleeping - doctor says I'm going to do a lot of that from here on out. I love you son."

I smile and reply "I love you too dad." before getting up and walking out of his room, closing the door quietly behind. Downstairs mother left a sandwich on a plate, with a small note written in her slanted handwriting that says "Mommy loves you baby, eat up."

I can see why father took her in all those years ago; there's a spark of innocent sweetness in her that as a man you cannot just turn out into the world, defenseless. Not if you have half a heart, you can't. I take a bite of my sandwich, noticing a little extra crunch to it - I guess mother put chips inside like I like it, and then begin to think about the new path my life has been put on. As I think about father's words, I remember that he asked me to check on mother, and bring her some water. I go to rise and I notice that I've dropped my sandwich... when did I do that? I look closer, wow it's hard to see... and notice that there are little white things in the bread. Is that maggots? As my vision dances I squint... are they bugs? Are those pills?

My last thought before I lose consciousness is that mother drugged me. "Why would she do that?"

I try to aim for the plate as everything fades to black.

*****

I come to with the sound of water in my ears, a small stream. A babbling brook here on the plate? I open my eyes and am greeted by mother's beautiful blue eyes, widening with surprise.

"Good morning baby!" she exclaims, and begins to grunt. The smell that assaults my nose next is as Father described it, like something that would emerge from a bear. I lift my head from the plate with a wet ripping sound, and glance around. I'm in the kitchen, its morning... mother is kneeling on the floor?

"Ma, what are you doing?" I ask, rubbing the cheek that was plated all night.

"Daddy didn't come get me for morning bathroom time, so I started to cook breakfast. I still had to go, but he says 'Clara don't you leave this kitchen until the food hit's the table' so I didn't... but I made a mess."

I sniff and it sounds like a bit more than 'a mess' but I let that description slide. Where's father, I think to myself. Stepping back from the table I ask mother "So you slept on the couch all night?"

Mother nods her beautiful simple head and replies "Yeah, just like we used to, remember?"

A memory comes bubbling up from way back, a hazy blur from childhood. Sleeping on her wide lap, nuzzling at her... breast? How old was I then? I'll have to follow up on that later with dad.

"I'm going to go upstairs and check on daddy, do you think you could clean that up Ma?"

Mother shakes her head and replies "Daddy always said for me not to touch the mess, that it's his pleasure and doody." Her mispronunciation of the word Duty makes me smile and see past this bizarre awakening at to the core of her sweet soul. That reminds me - "Mother, what did you put in that sandwich last night? I think I was drugged, did you do that?"

Mother smiles as she pushes again, a dull wet plop her reward. "Yeah, I put some of my good sleep candy in it. Daddy didn't give me mine, so I took some and gave some to you."

That's right, father was busy laying out 'the care and feeding of mother' for me, and must have forgotten. I didn't know he gave her sleeping pills, must be so that he could get some rest. Imagine, loving and living with a nymphomaniac with the mind of a child. Someone who has no concept of the word enough, who would literally go until her parts burned out if given the chance.

I rub my face and say "Ok mother, I'll be right back. Don't touch it, and please don't start breakfast yet." Seeing a look of total panic spread over her bovine features at the alteration of her routine I slip in "Just five minutes, ok? I have to check on daddy then I'll help you."

With those words she calms, and settles in to try and push out yet another fierce smelling turd. I can't look yet, it's too soon after waking up and my stomach feels hollow and nauseous. I guess waking up to your mother taking a bear-shit on the kitchen floor will do that. The thought makes me giggle, a sound that mother repeats back to me without knowing the source, but happy nonetheless. She is a perfect example of 'the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind' if I ever saw one.

I cross to the sink and grab a glass of water, careful not to look down at mother's morning mess. Father really does keep her on a balanced diet; the smell is not something that you would expect to come from a human. The smell of mother's droppings is fecund and rich, much closer to organic fertilizer than human feces. Mother watches me calmly as she squats above her leavings, hands braced above her on the table edge. I smile at her, acceptance of my future burden warming my heart. It's a labor of love that I'm looking at, a labor that raises us both up.

I head towards the stairs and head up, mother's blonde morning head tracking me as I leave the dining area. It's too quiet I think, as I ascend the steps, too still. My hand begins to shake as I realize something primal, something deep inside us all. There is a scent, kind of like... ozone that permeates the area at the head of the stairs. Before I open father's door I already know, the stillness of his shape under the covers tells me the story. I sit the last glass of water down by his bed, atop the block-printed notes on the pad, and kneel by father's bed. The tears come without thought, as does the sound from somewhere deep in my chest. A roar of sorrow, of loss, a cry against the dark that took the strongest man in my life away from me and left me with an idiot mother. A scream that goes and goes until the neighbors come knocking, and later the cops kick open the door.

Everything from that point is a blur, mother's mewling replies to the authorities, the dawning looks of understanding as they realize who and what she is. Their meaty hands on my shoulder as they escort me from the bedroom with father's notepad clasped to my chest. Mother looks to me for guidance but I can offer none, the burden is too heavy and too sudden. I expected months, maybe years before I had to deal with this, not now. Father was right; life really doesn't wait until you are ready.

The officers drive me down to the station and I watch from outside my body as I give a statement, tell them about myself, my mother and my father. I watch as they fingerprint me, the hands attached to the end of arms seeming to belonging to someone else. I stare at my idiot mother as she is dragged into the room, gibbering nonsense in her stained nightgown. Feelings of anger and sorrow rage inside me, useless emotions that serve no purpose. Why can't she be normal, I rage to myself as my eyes spill tears. Why can't she be like Joey's mother, baking chocolate chip cookies and driving a minivan to school? It's not her fault I tell myself, that she's the way she is. Father saw something in her that made him care for her all these years, and now you have to see it too.