Babbler Excerpt No. 2

Who needs Ex-Lax®?
Reprinted courtesy of The Beemer Babbler

Had it not been for the fact that she was already on the "john" when she opened the envelope from Oakland University, Erin Beemer, 18, undoubtedly would have "pooped" her pants.

"They'd sent me a bunch of stuff previously, so I just thought it was a reminder about orientation, or something just as mundane," remarks the eldest issue of the conjugal union of Susan and Earl Beemer. "But—like, omigod!—it was a two-thousand dollar scholarship I hadn't even applied for!"

"They must have discovered that Erin was one of the top ten students in her high-school graduating class," her mother offers from across the room, where she's buffing her exquisite fingernails while sucking cheap wine from a 12-ounce plastic tumbler. And although not asked for the information, she points out nevertheless that her wine comes in a box.

"Suf's right," Shortboy declares. "It's a feather in OU's cap to land a crack student like Car Driver Girl. They wouldn't want to lose her to the Specs Howard School of Broadcast Arts, for instance."

Thea Beemer, 15, strides brusquely into the room and flops onto the recliner, scowling. "Erin tinks she's SO bu-luh-ee great," she rails, superbly mimicking a working-class Dublin accent. "She awl-wise gets every-ting. Ih maykes me wan-uh pyook!"

Erin counters in a staccato Valley Girl delivery: "Oh—my—gawd!" she exclaims. "I do not either!"

Someone outside expresses disagreement through the open living-room window. "You do too get everything!" shouts sister Remy, 17, who until then had been discussing various aspects of Jeff Hagen's former girlfriend with Jeff Hagen on the front porch. "What about your job teaching ballet for fifteen bucks an hour?"

"I haven't even started that stinkin' job yet, you imbeciles!"

Springing from the couch, she leaps on Thea and begins strangling the astonished adolescent with fingers chewed to hideous bluntness by more than a decade of nail biting. Dropping the faux brogue, Thea implores her enraged sister to choke Remy or Kelly instead, but Erin isn't having any.

"Sure, I'm getting two grand from Oakland and fifteen bucks an hour from the Rochester School of Dance. But I do not get everything—and I can prove it!"

She lets Thea slip to the floor and produces yet another letter from the hip pocket of her mauve Gloria Vanderbilt jeans. "Aren't you all forgetting this?"

It's the notice from the Dayton-Hudson Corporation advising that she's no longer eligible for her mother's employee discount now that she's over eighteen.

"So there, buttheads! Read it and weep!"

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