Babbler Excerpt No. 7

Apocalypse now
Reprinted courtesy of The Beemer Babbler

Stung like someone who's just had her knee whacked by the burly henchman of an unscrupulous female figure skater of trailer-park provenance, an anguished Susan Beemer could respond only by collapsing to the floor, clutching her head with both hands, and shrieking, "Whyyy? Whyyy? Whyyy me?" She'd all but forgotten Easter break, and the sudden realization that her children would be home from school and in her face for 11 straight days would have sent her through the roof had it not sent her to the refrigerator for a goblet of psyche-salving Chardonnay.

"If they think they're gonna hang around the [unprintable] living room all week and argue, they're out of their [unprintable] gourds," Susan exclaimed, crossing her shapely gams and smoothing her black pleated skirt for emphasis. "I'll [unprintable] 'em up but good, and I'm not kidding."

Pressed for a reaction, an indignant Thea Beemer insisted, "It isn't me—it's Kelly and Remy. They start everything, and so does Erin."

"That's a lie, Thea!" retorted Kelly heatedly. "You're the one who starts everything, so shut up!"

Leaping to her feet and striking a menacing stance, Remy Beemer interjected, "Why don't you just shut up, Thea. You're such a little wench. Dad, can I sock her?"

"Oh, shut up, Remy!" came Thea's prompt rejoinder.

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