When Sparky Met Molly


My First Born ‘Darling’ Texted Me Last Saturday Morning … 

Asking, If I Was “Down To Doing Something?”  Exactly.  Down Not Up.

Which Meant:

“Hey, Dad, I’m Hungover Hungry And There’s Nothing To Eat At Home.”



I Hit Pay Dirt On The Offspring Lottery …

The Suspect Gene Pool In My Family Doesn’t Have A Great Track Record In Getting The Recipe Right.

“While The DNA Giver Of Good Genetics May Have Purposely Skipped Over Me – Thanks, Papa Lothario – On Two Consecutive Occasions, A Ping In The Cosmos By The Hand Of The Almighty Produced Two Fine Male Specimens.”

This Is The Unauthorized, But Entirely Necessary Story Of Uno – The First One – And Me Doing Our Weekend Thing.



Darling One Is An Awesome Son …

As Is His Younger Brother Due (Dewey) – The Coolio Sequel – Darling Two, Made With The Same Awesome Sauce Recipe Just A Size Bigger.

Yes, I Need Better Nicknames For The Deuce.

“Because 21 and 19 Year-Old Dudes Really Don’t Care Much For Being Called “Darling” By Their Dad.”



Because I Never Say No To My Sons … 

Except The Time When They Wanted A Dog – Then A Cat – And A Hovercraft I Later Converted To A Bouncy Castle.

They Have A Dog And A Cat … And, Me.  

“Enough Pets,” I’d Said.  “And, I’m Keeping The Bouncy Castle.”



I’ll Pick Uno Up … Along The Way … A Short Drive … 

Also, A Convenient Excuse, So I Could Give His Royal Cuteness – The Shih Tzu – His Weekly Massage, And Her Highness – The Tabby – Back Her Smug Attitude, Where They All Live Happily, Joyfully, Together.

… And, Wonder Why The Grass Doesn’t Grow In A Spot That Looks Suspiciously Like A Crop Circle In The Backyard.  Also, Conveniently, It’s The Same Nice House I Don’t Live In Anymore

“But, Hey Isn’t It Great Being Neighbors With Your Family?”



Was Working … His Student Side Hustle … 

Ensuring The City’s Geeks Get Their Pompatus Of Love On For Laptops, Smartphones, Drones

And, 100″ TVs because Those Tiny 85 Inchers Are So 2019.

… Gadgety Sh!t In Time For Festivus.



Is Proof Human Cloning Works  …

I’d Say He’s A Mini Me, But A Little Taller (Though Not As Tall As The Strapping Darling Two).

He’s Impossibly Better Looking Than Me – Pfff, I Know, Right? It Was Bound To Happen … Finally, Free Of The Burden Of Vanity – Intelligent, Funny, Kind, Curious, Charming, And Aware In A Millennial Way.

… So, Does It Really Count?



By Sparky – The Hostess With The Utmostess – Hair Bunned-Up, Perma-shined Smile, Bubblicious … 

… At Our Regular 4-Top Table Up Front By The Corner Windows, Where All The Patrons Of Suburban Hatin’ – Coming-In-And-Going-Out – Give Us Elevated Side Eye Because We’re Saddled In The Prime Seats For Pigeon Watching Bliss.

Sparky Says, “Bee-Rite-Back, Jack.”  With Coffees And Water, If I Had To Guess.  All Sing-Sing-Songy.  

… Like Butterflies, Lollipops And Sunshine Don’t Stand A Chance With This Gal.



I Search For The Portuguese Breakfast Special, Which Has Been Pulled For Reasons Unknown …

I Don’t Bother Asking.  No One Ever Should.  Scroll My Index Finger Down Past The Healthy Stuff I Normally Eat At Home And Came To What I Was Looking For: The Sunset Omelet, Which Reads Like The 14 Other Omelet’s – I’d Rename It The Yada, Yada – But Made With Canadian Bacon.  It’s Peameal Bacon, Folks.

“As A Friendly Travel Advisory To Anyone Visiting Canada, Please See Me First Before Crossing Through Customs, So I Can Clarify A Couple Things …”

Canadian’s Don’t Call Canadian Things Canadian Anything.  Its Just Bacon, Peameal-Style.  To Us, Canadians.  Okay, English-Speaking Canadians.  Quebecois Do Their Own Thing, But I’m Pretty Sure, Its Still Baçon.  Like Turkish Delight.  Its Just Delight To The Turks.  Drop The Turkish.  And, Fries / Frites To The French.  



She’s More Angela Lansburyesque – An Endearing Descriptive Moniker That Fits Sparky Like Under-sized Isotope Gloves – Hopped-Up On Molly (aka: MDMA 3,4-methylenedioxy-N-methylamphetamine). 

Ecstasy, Folks.  Getting Her Flirt On.  Rave On.

Wait, What?

… All Over My Son, Which Also Lends Another Layer To The Meaning Of Ew-No.



Apparently, Not …

I Ask Sparky, If She Wouldn’t Mind Keeping Her Mittens Where I Could See Them.  Concerned Father Moment (*).

Sparky Turns The Heat On Me.  Double Takes.  Like She’s Ready For A Double Take.

Oooh, She Ditten.  Dropping Hints That Didn’t Have Hints.  Was That A Wink Or A Twitch?



Sparky’s Adorable.  Right Out Of Looney Tunes Central Casting.  Tweety’s Granny.

You Know, How Some Grandmothers Are A Little Too Touchy-Feely After Granddad Passes …

“Like Sparky’s Looking For A Dependable Hook-Up – Not A Depends Pull-Up – After Playing Euchre @ 2 and Mahjong @ 4?”

This Goes What The Frangipane? Viral.



I’ve Got A Regular Saturday Thing Now … 

3 PM

At Pinecrest Retirement Home.

“Conjugal Cribbage Is What Sparky Calls It.”


Photo by Steve Johnson from Pexels

21 thoughts on “When Sparky Met Molly

  1. Writer of words

    And now I must find me some (drop the adjectives) bacon. Or, head out for breakfast if/when the family ever gets up.

    Question: if I go to the diner by myself will I encounter a frisky waiter? 😂 Or maybe the cook can come out for a chat… 😛

    This was fun!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. ashleyleia

    Conjugal cribbage sounds like quite the festive occasion.

    I think peameal bacon is an Ontario thing; there are no peas in the vicinity of my back bacon.

    And euchre – ditto on the Ontario thing.

    A snobbish west-coaster

    Liked by 2 people

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