Fair warning: This one is twisted, even for me…
Daughter, far left: “Mother, he’s doing it again.”
Mother, near left: “Who is doing what, dear?”
Daughter: “Father. He’s staring at me again. In that way that we talked about.”
Mother: “Dear, we talk about a lot of things. Which thing are you hovering over now?”
Daughter: “You know. The one where he makes me feel like the last cupcake in the box?”
Mother: “Oh right, right. Whew! The gin had me a bit foggy there for a minute. I’ll handle this.” She turns her head. “Darling?”
Father Darling, near right: “….”
Mother: “Robert, I’m talking to you. The children are here and we agreed that you wouldn’t ignore me in front of them. Only after they go to bed.”
Father Darling Robert: “….”
Mother: “Robert, I know that we also agreed that I wouldn’t emasculate you in front of the children, but you’re testing my patience. And gin is involved in this situation.”
Son, far right: “I learned about emasculation in health class today. We’re not supposed to do it.”
Mother: “Junior, not now. But it sounds like you might want to pay a little more attention in that class of yours.”
Junior: “But they showed us a film and everything. I know the warning signs.”
Mother: “I know them as well, which is why we took the lock off your bedroom door. Now shush for just a minute. One problem at a time, that’s our family motto. Well, that, and always have an alibi.”
Junior: “Nobody ever pays any attention to me!”
Daughter: “Hey, if you want Father to look at you like he looks at me, you can have all of that. I’m just waiting until I can go to college and never come back.”
Mother: “Children, please! Mommy is losing her buzz and that’s not a good thing. I need radio silence until I can calmly discuss this with your father.” She pauses to touch up her lipstick, because it was the 40s and women were still required to do so by law, then slips the tube in her skirt pocket. “Robert, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Father Darling Robert: “Beep.”
Mother: “Beep? Is that some type of code you learned in the military? You’ll have to help us out because we weren’t there and none of us have seen that health film.”
Junior: “I don’t think he actually said that. His lips didn’t move.”
Daughter: “Neither did his eyes. I can still feel the cupcake heat.”
Junior: “Wait a minute. His belt buckle is flashing. Hang on.” [Sounds of rustling and possible search and seizure.]
Mother: “Junior, I don’t think you should be touching your father in such a personal area. Surely at least that was discussed in your dubious health class. I really need to talk to your school board.”
Junior: “Got it!” He unsnaps a device from his father’s midsection. “Hey, this is a power source. It looks like his batteries are low.”
Neither Mother nor Daughter were prepared for this shift in the script, so they chose this moment to refrain from any vocalizations. When in doubt, sit it out.
Junior: “Wait a minute. Why would Father need batteries? This has not been brought up in any of my classes, ever. Is there something you need to tell us, Mother?”
Mother: “….”
Daughter: “Yeah, Mother. Do you have something to share? Or am I finally going to be successful with my daily calls to Child Protective Services?”
Mother: “….”
Junior: “Maybe her batteries died as well. They were born the same year and all. Well, at least that’s what they told us. The lies are growing. Just like that rash I got when I emasculated too much.”
Daughter: “Really, Junior. Not the time. But no, Mother is not out of power. I can see her eyes flicking to the gin bottle just out of camera range.”
Mother: “Okay, fine. I really didn’t want to tell you any of this until you were adults and no longer my responsibility. Your father is an android and both of you are half-cyborgs.”
Junior: “That is so cool. I can’t wait to update my Facebook profile.”
Daughter: “Not, it is not cool. This could ruin my chances of getting into the right sorority at Bonnywood University. Mother, how could you give your cupcake to a machine?”
Mother: “In all fairness, I didn’t know for the longest time. What I did know is that he knew exactly what to do with my baked goods at just the right moments. Of course, that should have been a warning sign, because most men can’t hit the target using both hands and a compass, but I didn’t want to let a good thing go.”
Junior: “And you didn’t notice his power-pack?”
Mother: “We never left the lights on. It just wasn’t done back then. But now that I think about it, I suppose I should have been more curious about why the wi-fi signal for my Kindle was so strong when he was near me. Still, I was in love, and one does stupid things when the passions run high. Like ignore the fact that your husband buys motor oil in bulk.”
Daughter: “I guess I can see that, but I’m still going to use this against you for a very long time. It just feels like the right thing to do.”
Mother: “Of course it is. That’s the human half of you talking, and I’m glad to see that you haven’t lost your humanity. If you did, you might end up being a Republican, and that would be a greater shame than me giving up my cupcake to an android with a limited shelf-life.”
Junior: “Speaking of, what are we doing to do about Father, now that he’s shut down and all. Sure, we could use him for a coat rack for a while, but eventually people are going to start asking questions.”
Mother: “Well, I suppose we need to find him a new power source, but I’m not sure where we’re going to get that.”
Daughter: “Did he come with a manual?”
Mother: “No, he came with a series of hoots and clicks. Wait, I think I misunderstood the question.”
Daughter: “I am never going to get out of this scene without lifetime damage. I tried, but no.”
Suddenly, the doorbell rings.
Mother: “Junior, I think you should get that.”
Junior: “Why me? I’m the youngest and most impressionable.”
Mother: “Which means you have more time in your life to get over it than the rest of us. Go!”
Junior marches to the front door.
He throws it open with great force. (Half-Cyborg, y’all.)
A man is standing on the porch.
Arnold Schwarzenegger: “I’m back. With batteries.”
Categories: Questionable Developments
Crusty Pie 
Father’s stare is even making me uncomfortable.
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Right? One look at that mess and this story basically wrote itself…
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Sacrilege! That’s one of my all-time favorite films you’ve lampooned! May you have one of the worst years of your life! 😉
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Wow. I guess I won’t be getting a Christmas card from you next year? 😉
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I agree with Peggy. That stare is creeping me out.
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The stare is very unsettling. Then again, so is this post, so….
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