Mama Knows Best

Once upon a time in the land of Oak Lawn, Illinois, there lived a drunk named Frank. He drank all night and worked all day, as a cashier at the neighborhood gas station.

In general, Frank enjoyed his life and didn’t complain. There was just one problem: he suffered from a severe case of loneliness. He wanted a girlfriend more than anything but couldn’t keep one for more than a few weeks. Some nights when he really felt down, he’d cry himself to sleep, silently wondering when his blues would go away.

One Saturday night, Frank invited over his two best friends, stoner Matt and four-eyes Doug. It was just like every other Saturday night; Frank started pre-gaming with Old Styles in his bedroom around 8:30. The guys came at 9:30 and they went into the basement to watch the plasma screen and take a few shots of Frank’s Crown Royal whiskey at the bar. By ten o clock, Frank was tipsy. While Matt and Doug went outside for a cigarette, Frank curled up in the recliner and called a few girls with no success. Five minutes later the guys came back in and Frank got up for another drink.

“Where’s da bitches at?” he asked. “You lames don’t know any girls?”


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“Not really,” said stoner Matt, who always wore the same black Bob Marley hoodie. “You’re the one getting laid all the time! Help a bro out!”

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

First, Frank changed into a dark polo and slacks, slicked back his short brown hair, and sprayed himself with cologne.

“Gotta dress to impress. You bums should freshen up a little if you want the ladies.”

Next he made a few more calls, but the best he could do was his ex-girlfriend Fat Sam with a triple chin and pot belly. She brought over two friends, blonde Danielle and redhead Lisa. The girls came over and they all sat around, playing cards, watching tv, and drinking. From the moment the girls arrived, Frank started pounding Old Styles, so that Fat Sam would look more attractive.

He was accomplishing his goal. She was actually beginning to look decent — skinnier, with a normal sized chin and no moustache — until the party got disrupted. At 11:30, Frank’s mother opened the basement door and came down in her pale white nightgown. She was shorter than her son, with the same facial structure and short dark hair.

“Keep it down, please.”

“No. Get outta here Ma!” he snapped. “Can’t you see I have people over?!”

She sighed and went away.

“You shouldn’t talk to your mom that way,” Doug said.

“Yeah,” Fat Sam agreed. “Don’t be a jerk! Let’s just … not be so loud.”

They quieted down and played a few drinking games. But after about an hour, Frank put heavy metal on the stereo and cranked it. His mother came down for a second time.

“Turn it down. I’m trying to sleep.”

But Frank, now riding a solid buzz, only snapped again.

“Just go to bed and stop complaining!”

Again, she sighed and went away. His friends convinced him to turn the music down, but just to be belligerent he returned to the stereo a few minutes later and blasted it, even louder than before. His mother came down for a third time, charged for the stereo, and turned it off herself. The whole room went silent as she stared down Frank.

“Stop it! I have to work in the morning!”

“Just let me have a good time! I already told you to go away! You don’t listen!” Frank exploded and violently pointed toward the stairs. “Get out!”

She left, but forgot to close the door all the way.

“You’re an asshole,” Fat Sam said and signaled to her friends as she grabbed her purse. “We’re leaving!”

Frank stumbled up from his seat, in a panic.

“Screw her! I don’t care if she is my Ma. She never lets me have fun! She’s such a bitch!”

And those were his last words. His mother had heard everything and stormed back into the room, wielding a large black skillet in her hand, and she smacked her son square in the face and knocked him out. Cold. Doug and Matt fled to a nearby bar with the girls, where they kept drinking and got lucky.

Not only did Frank miss out on the action that night, but he suffered an untimely demise, all because he didn’t respect his mother. Mothers are very strong women who have the power to bring us into the world. And just like they bring us into this world, if we piss them off, they can take us out.


About David Ramsey Jones

David Ramsey Jones is a published writer and soon-to-be graduate of the Columbia College Chicago, where he made the Dean’s List multiple times on his way to getting a BA in creative writing. His work is included in Newport Review Magazine.

>> David Ramsey Jones's author page

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