Lately I’ve been imagining what my kids’ friends would say about me if they ever wrote a Wonder Years-type TV show. You know, in 20+ years when they’re on their third divorce and reflecting back on their idyllic childhoods. It’d probably be something like this:
INT. THE AARONS HOUSE – LATE AFTERNOON
The camera pans slowly through the badly decorated 2014-style living room, pausing briefly on a STRETCHED OUT BRA stuffed behind a couch cushion and an empty TUBE OF HEEL REPAIR CREAM on the coffee table. A CAT runs into frame and violently PUKES on the rug. The funk song “More Bounce to the Ounce” plays repeatedly on an abandoned iPod.
VOICE-OVER: Every day after school, me and the guys would head over to Jack’s house because he had an awesome treehouse in the backyard. That treehouse was our kingdom, man. We could be our true selves in that treehouse. But before we could enter our lair, we had to deal with…Mrs. Aarons.
CUT TO: Close-up of MRS. AARONS (40′s, tipsy, looks like Dog the Bounty Hunter wearing Clinique lipstick).
VOICE-OVER: As soon as we walked in the door, she’d come staggering out of her home office, like she was escaping an explosion at an oil rig or something. And she always smelled like the Costco tub of Red Vines she would compulsively eat all day long. We’d try to run away, but she’d stop us and ask the oddest questions. Especially when it was her week to write US Weekly Fashion Police captions.
MRS. AARONS: What’s a more clever way to say “Why is David Hasselhoff wearing a suit made out of Swiffer refills and cherry Bubble Yum?” What rhymes with ‘skanky culottes’? Have we already used the phrase ‘KarTRASHian’? Do these Merona track pants make me look fat? Best answers get a shiny quarter and a kiss, boys! You bettah WORK.
CUT TO: Three nervous KIDS grabbing snacks from the pantry as fast as they can. They then RUN outside to the treehouse and disappear inside. Mrs. Aarons carefully watches them through the window while her ankles are being maimed by two CATS. She shoves a fistful of Red Vines into her mouth and mutters nonsense about foreign policy and Corvettes to herself. (MUSIC: “Send In the Clowns”)
VOICE-OVER: I lost touch with the Aarons family shortly after that. Rumor had it they moved to New York City where Mrs. Aarons got a job as Al Roker’s stunt double, but nobody seemed to know for sure. Later, when Jack and Sam were elected to the United States Senate, I tried contacting my old treehouse pals, but all I got for my efforts was a white surveillance van parked outside of my condo and a spot on the no-fly list. Still, when I think back on those days….
CUT TO: Mrs. Aarons wearing a skirtini and enthusiastically dancing to “She Bangs” while three boys sit on the couch and watch in horror.
VOICE-OVER: I realize that moms…are nuts.
And that ladies and gentlemen, is what we call “a long walk to get a roast beef sandwich” because it’s my weird way of telling you that I have a story in the brand new anthology called MOMS ARE NUTS. It’s not a book written by moms, necessarily, but a book written about moms. Hooray! And it’s the perfect gift for Mother’s Day or what have you.
The authors in this book are all very, very talented and hilarious writers and you know that I never say that about anyone but myself, so take me seriously here and BUY A BOOK! Or two! Or three! Here’s a subtle, little graphic for you to click on:
Mrs. Aarons thanks you in advance.