I hear the secrets that you keep

The other day I was a witness to one of the most terrifying moments in a parent's life.

I was on travel in L.A., and had gone to a skewer restaurant in Manhattan Beach. The restaurant was set up like a small sushi joint, with maybe 4 tables and a bar. Not wanting to take up a whole table on a busy night, I seated myself at the bar and placed my order.

Moments later a middle-aged man walked in with his seven- or eight-year-old son. Following is a transcript of that conversation:

Dad: How's your skull?
Kid: Fine.
Dad: You know, you've really got to cut out the acrobatic stuff, you're going to hurt yourself. Plus you could wind up in the circus. Do you want to wind up in the circus?
Kid: (pouting) Yes.
Dad: No you don't, that makes me sad.
Kid: Good.
Dad: Now that's mean, why would you say that?
Kid: Because you're bad.
Dad: (laughing) Why am I bad? Did I do something wrong?
Kid: I can't tell you.
Dad: C'mon, you can tell me. What did I do?
Kid: I can't tell you, because it's inappropriate.

Now here's when I began to try very hard to NOT listen to them. I attempted to immerse myself in the hockey game on TV behind the bar, but that cut to commercial, so I had little choice.

Dad: Tell me, you have to tell me now.
Kid: (pausing...) Okay, well...the other day I wanted to watch cartoons, and so I came into your room, and I saw you...on TOP of MOM.
Dad: I was on top of her? What do you mean?
Kid: (laughing) Yes you were on TOP of MOM. And I told my friends about it and they laughed.
Dad: (laughing) We were wrestling. Why would you come into our room without permission?
Kid: (shouting) I wanted to watch cartoons! And YOU WERE ON TOP OF MOM!
Dad: Well yeah, we were wrestling...and I was on top of her because...I was winning.

It was at this point that the cook behind the counter tried to hand me my food, and I was trying to valiently not to CRACK UP that I clipped the straw in my glass with the plate and dumped an entire glass of ice water directly into my lap.

Embarassing. But I like to think I helped that poor guy, in that everyone in the restaurant turning to look at me and laughing HAD to have broken the tension of that moment. I have to say the guy handled it pretty well, but man, is that kid going to turn out to be the "I Win" guy!

All apologies

When I walked into my cubicle this Sunday morning, I noticed my phone's message light flashing. Thinking my mom must have been trying to reach me, I picked up the receiver and skipped right past the message details to the message itself. I wasn't prepared for what I was about to hear.

The call was placed at 4:16pm Saturday evening. It sounded as though a woman's phone had dialed my number from insider her purse, or maybe that she'd dialed a number and then placed the receiver on a table. The entire 4-minute message was muffled, but I could distinctly hear two women yelling in the background, presumably at passers-by their house. Well, "house" may be too kind an assumption - from the story that unfolded, "trailer" seems more appropriate.

Following is my best attempt at a transcript of the message. Imagine all of this read in the scratchiest, highest-pitched smoker's voice you possibly can.

That b*tch...c'mon baby, let's go. I'm taking my baseball bat with
me

(muffled conversation)

And that mother-f*ckin...f*ckin.

Wooooo-hooo! Yes I will. I'm taking my bat. He'll
never do that to me again. Ever.

(baby noises)

Ahhhhh! I hate all you motherf*ckers!!

(dog barking)

Crackhead Joe!

(muffled conversation)

I hate this. I'm crazy.

Crackhead Joe. Crackhead. Uh...get out of here, Joe, and go
home. (bark) Nobody wants you up here, so lay off, b*tch.
F*cking crackhead b*tch. Go f*ck some (??) with Joe.

I'm taking my bat with me, you f*ck with me, you f*ck with the wrong
mother. Crackhead Joe! (bark)

(singing) In the sun, in the sun I feel as one, Maaary.

I'll kill him, Goddammit...now I ain't got no (muffled).
No!

How 'bout that, Dean? (laughing) He thinks he's so f*cking bad

Can anyone tell me if this is from a movie? That's the only logical explanation I can formulate. Aside, of course, from the obvious explanation that some crazy broad went on a meth-fueled rampage through her trailer park.

My favorite part is when she sings the Nirvana song. Maybe I should forward this to Courtney Love. Hmmm...maybe it is Courtney Love.