Upon finishing, Father caps his gas can and makes his way back to the house where Mother is cooking breakfast while browsing the ticket auctions on eBay. “Who do you want to see?” she asks Father as she pours her first martini of the day. “Steve Vai or Poe?”
Before Father can answer he is interrupted by the ringing of the phone. Father answers it just as the Twins, Missy and Junior, rush in from the bathroom. “Did you sign the permission slips for our school’s field trip?” they ask simultaneously. “Today’s the day we’re going to visit the factory where they make the tickets for the big shows like Deftones and Fastball.”
“Signed and sitting on the kitchen counter,” answers Mother as the Twins sit down to breakfast. “Is your boyfriend going on the trip?”
“Oh, they broke up,” says Junior before Missy can speak.
“We did not,” replies Missy. “We’re just having a lover’s spat. That’s what he gets for flunking me in math. We’ll see how he likes going to see Hootie & The Blowfish without his teacher’s pet.”
Father hangs up the phone and takes his seat at the table. “I’ve got some bad news,” he says as he passes the jar of olives to Mother. “Bernie in accounting passed away last night.” Then he leans over and whispers to Mother, “They found him sprawled on his bed with his Britney Spears shopping bag over his head.”
“Concert-erotic asphyxiation?” asks Mother as she opens the jar, picks out an olive and drops one in her martini. “How terrible. But with Bernie gone, that means…”
“Is it really that bad?” asks Mother, as she stirs another pitcher of martinis.
“With gas going up and our legal fees from the RIAA lawsuit over selling those Smashing Pumpkins MP3s, I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut back…”
The entire room grows silent with Mother and the Twins holding their collective breaths while staring at Father.
Mother gulps her martini as the Twins let out a sigh of relief. Junior is the first to speak. “I’m sorry, Father. I guess I haven’t been doing my part. I’ve been shirking on beating up the computer geeks at school for their Jolt Cola and Skittles money.”
“I’ve been lazy, too,” adds Missy. “I haven’t been keeping up on my anorexia.”
All eyes are on Mother. “If it means a sacrifice or two so we can see Bloodhound Gang and Joe Jackson,” she finally says. “I guess I can cut back on the olives. They take up too much space in the glass, anyway.”
“I… I don’t know what to say,” stutters Father as a tear swells in his eye. “You’re all so… so… supporting. You’re the best family…”
A loud thunk interrupts Father as Mother falls over backward in her chair, her martini glass resting upside-down on her nose.
“… a man could have.”