Suburgatory (11 page)

He thought about that. “So you could sit criss-cross applesauce on the carpet and not say anything when Miss Barrett says something to you and that would be fine. . . .”

His mother added he might need to be fed, like he was still a baby. “Great!” said the boy.

Purcell finally exploded. “Michael, be happy you're not disabled! I don't want to make it sound awful but sometimes people can't have regular lives at all, like getting married or wiping their own bottoms!”

Mikey went over to his mother right before lining up to go inside for school. He cupped her face in his hands. “But Mommy, you know I'm marrying
you
and you already love me so much AND you still help me wipe my bottom sometimes when I can't reach.”

“So,” he said quietly to himself, “how do I get disabled? Would it hurt?”

Vegetarian Mom Vexed
by Son's Meat-Lust

Suburgatory, USA—A vegetarian mother is vexed by her son's newfound passion for meat and his complete lack of empathy for the animals that, as she puts it, “suffered horribly and died so you can eat a disgusting chicken leg.”

Liz Stakun blames a friend of hers who, without her permission, provided her son Max with a fried chicken leg, which he was eating as Stakun arrived at her friend's home to pick up her child from a playdate. “OK—Anne has been undermining me since college. First she horned in on my major, then surprise, surprise, she rushed my sorority. So passive aggressive.”

“Hey Anne! Hugs!” Stakun stiffly embraced her friend and tried to hide her horror, as she saw her son tearing into the chicken leg with abandon. “Um, Anne, you know I've been a vegetarian. Since 1994. After the U2 concert where you blacked out. Remember?” said Liz, trying to contain her irritation. “Oh, Liz! Of course I know you're a vegetarian but I never in a million years thought you'd impose your beliefs on a growing boy! And look how much he loves it. How can that be so wrong?”

Indeed, Max was enjoying it so much that Liz had trouble getting his attention away from the greasy chicken leg, which he was examining in a methodical way that he sees on his favorite forensic crime program,
Bones.

Liz:
Max, do you remember the nice mommy chicken we saw at Landsakes Farm, the one who loved her chicks sooooo much, like Mommy loves you?

Max:
Oh yeah, they were sooooo cute, Mommy. What a good mommy that hen was.

Liz:
Yes, but honey, I just want you to understand that what you saw at the farm and what you are eating on this plate are one and the same.

Max:
But Mommy, they're
dead now
and they're
delicious!

And with that Max returned to dismembering the leg, telling his mother, “Mom, this is the best part; you need to try it.” He pulled the chicken meat off the bone. “You're gonna
die
when you taste this, the skin's the best!” he said as he pulled the skin away from the meat. Liz sighed and shot Anne a perturbed look but said nothing more. “Max, we'll talk about this more at home. By the way, I realize we found a pair of bunnies in the backyard.”

“Awesome!” said Max, as he wiped the chicken grease off his face. “Are they dead, too?”

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Mother Discovers Russian
Au Pair Is Richer than She Is

Suburgatory, USA—An area mom has discovered, much to her chagrin, that her Russian au pair is far wealthier than her in Russia.

“Actually, what's worse is that she's not just richer than me in crappy, depressing Russia. She's richer than me
here, too!
” said thirty-nine-year-old Jen Barofsky.

Barofsky says she chose the eighteen-year-old au pair mostly because of her English skills and her unattractiveness. “Oh please, I'm not stupid. ‘eighteen-year-old Russian au pair'? I don't need my husband sitting back and watching a hot Russian teen romping around here. So yeah, I picked the frumpy one who'd probably be a workhorse and eager to please.”

But when Galina Popov first arrived, she spoke little, though her English was near flawless. Popov barely acknowledged the children she was supposed to care for. And she walked around slowly, making small “snorts,” as she surveyed the 5,000-square-foot home and the property.

“I mean, at first I just thought it was a Russian thing. They're not exactly the most uplifting people, you know? Maybe that's why they hated us Jews—we're loud and proud, I like to say. Life's not one long pity party, Russia!” said Barofsky. Her husband Jeff started calling Popov the “Crabby Cossack.”

When Popov's attitude failed to improve, Barofsky considered that maybe the girl actually
was
an anti-Semite. But in fact it was not anti-Semitism at all. “One day Galina left her Facebook page open, and holy fucking shit. That girl and her life make me look like trailer trash. Who knew there even
were
rich people in Russia?”

Barofsky got to see just what Popov left behind in her native country. “There were pictures of her houses. Houses, plural. I counted at least three. There were hundreds of nightlife shots of her all over the place dancing and drinking, and there were all these dressing-room pictures of her visits to some really swank mall. Still pretty ugly but definitely not frumpy. Nothing like her au pair video at all.”

Barofsky decided to ask Popov about it.

Galina:
Well, yes, you do live quite modestly compared to me.

Jen:
But why didn't you tell me?

Galina:
I was supposed to tell you that you are far less fortunate than I am?

Jen:
No, I mean, of course, it's OK that you are blessed with a lot of money. I'm just curious as to why you chose to become an au pair.

Galina:
Chose
this?
[Snort]
No. I'm more suited for [French resort area] Cap Ferrat. But my father is a . . . ran into trouble with an ally of an oligarch, and he thought it best for me to leave my country for a while.

Jen:
What's an oligarch?

Galina:
The smartest, fastest people in Russia who were in the right place at the right time when Communism fell.

Jen:
Oh. Is that why you left all your fancy clothes at home and didn't wear them in your au pair video? You're in hiding or something?

Galina:
No, my mom told me to do that after we looked you up on Facebook and saw your . . . house. She told me an American woman wouldn't want an au pair who looked richer than her, or looked like she might try to steal her husband.

Jen:
[Nervous laugh]
Hahaha! Now that's just silly.

Galina:
Well, my mother is grateful you took me and I know she would want me to ask you if you would benefit from some of our . . . what do you call it in English . . . hand-me-downs? We have so many.

Jen:
Uh, no.
Nyet.
Thank you.

So did Barofsky keep Popov? “What, and have my dead Bubby rise from the grave and pelt me with boiling matzoh balls? She'd be mad enough that I had the Crabby Cossack living with me, but a
rich
one? It's a
shande.
”

Dr. Drama

“When life hands you a problem, let's make it more interesting!”

Dear Dr. Drama:

We are having a battle in town over whether or not to remove a house close to mine on Shelton Street, to make room for a new Wal-Mart. Many of my neighbors are thrilled that they're going to get rid of that house, because a Level 3 sex offender lives there. Now, I'm no fan of sex offenders, but as a person of conscience I would rather have him in town than Wal-Mart, which I believe does things far worse to our community—collectively—than any one man. I have told no one this, just you, and I look forward to getting some of your sage advice.

—Wal-Not in Suburgatory

Dear Wal-Not:

Sooooooo you would rather have a neighbor who has, say, ass-raped a child than a store that offers rock-bottom prices? Because low prices are bad for the poor? Have you
ever
been
to a Wal-Mart? No? That's because you're not poor!