Instead, my mom backed away. "Stop. Stay where you are." Hand out, like some kind of cop or something.
"Why?" I worry she might be sick. "Is something wrong?"
"No, but I'm dangerous!"
Now there are many words to describe my mother, but "dangerous" wouldn't top anyone's list. Well, except for the fact she still thinks Trump is a wonderful, "God-fearing" leader. And, let's not forget when she was still driving past her expiration date, Mr. Magoo-ing her way through orange cones and stop signs. I'm sure she was pretty dangerous then.
But now?
I had no choice but to play along. "Okay, Mom...why are you dangerous?"
"Because it's what everyone keeps telling me. About this virus."
Well. First thing's first, she doesn't really see or talk to anyone. Who are these mysterious people proclaiming her dangerous?
"Mom, you're not dangerous."
"But it's what everyone keeps telling me!" She shakes her head, ticked off that I'm not getting it.
"You're vulnerable, not dangerous!" I raise my voice to get my message across loud and clear. Hard of hearing that she is, I repeat it three times.
"You don't have to yell at me, Stuart!"
But I kinda do since she refuses to get a hearing aid. "Mom...you're considered elderly which makes you more vulnerable right now. I'm probably in that category, too, now. That's what 'they' mean."
Still shaking her head, she's not gonna budge. "Everyone says I'm dangerous, Stuart. You just don't get it."
I get that you can't teach an old dog new tricks, so I'm just gonna live with having a dangerous mom.
Be careful out there, folks. And if you see my mom coming...RUN!
In fact, why not "run" safely to Amazon, and check out the new rerelease of the final book in my Secret Society serial killer, darkly comic thriller series, Killer King, put out by those fine folks at Crossroads Press? Go on...I'll wait for you right here.
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