dodraibeid

My ex-girlfriends family was the most fucked up unit of people in the world. Ive no real reason to tell you this, but its pretty funny, and I wanted to write something. See, she just called me and told me that she met her father. She was the bastard child of an extra marital affair that her mother had 22 years ago. Her mother made no secret of it, but she (my ex) had no real desire to meet him. I guess she suddenly got one. Anyway, thats what made me think of this.

So heres the layout. Theres her mom, Sherri; her stepfather, Pierre; her eight-year-o ld half brother, Michel (Me-shell); her moms boyfriend Larry; her stepdads boyfriend Donald; the ex, Tanya; and me living in the house.

Her mom and stepfather are separated, but living in the same house (on opposite ends of said house) because her stepfather came out of the closet about a year before, but he wanted to be near his son. Both have boyfriends. Both boyfriends live there. Just to clarify: everyone in the house over the age of eighteen has a boyfriend living there. Thats three boyfriends total, including me. Seven people in all. No one, but NO ONE in the house was anything close to reserved, introverted, shy, or quiet.

A typical Saturday morning went like this: Id get home from working overnight at the diner. Michel would be on the couch watching cartoons. Id sit down and wed watch cartoons for no more that twenty minutes before Pierre came downstairs in his underwear. Hed go into Sherris room to use the bathroom. (The bathroom was HUGE, like two rooms. They continued to share it because it was big enough for the both of them, or so they thought.) Five seconds after entering, hed come out covering his eyes and cursing in French (he was from Belgium). Sherri would be right behind him in a sheet, screaming Dammit, Pierre dont you ever knock? Jesus!
And Pierre, yelling, I deed not wahnt to see dat! Why must you do dat in de morning?
Why must you barge in on me in my bedroom? I dont go in yours!
You have no reason to, Sherilyn! I, on de udder hand, need to shave!
This argument continues directly in front of the television. We are used to this, so we just turn it up and look around them.
Enter Larry in his boxers. It should be noted that Larry is about six-foot-nine and four hundred pounds of solid muscle. A huge guy, to say the least. Ive seen tents with less fabric than his underwear. Without a word, Larry walks past the arguing pair, kissing Sherri on the forehead, and winking at Pierre, and punching him jokingly on the shoulder as he goes. He walks into the kitchen and starts taking out food. The little European man looked mad, but couldnt really do anything about it considering the fact that Larry is four times the size of any human hes ever known. Michel changes the channels. Now, instead of blocking The Fairly Oddparents, Sherri and Pierre are blocking us from watching Gummi Bears.
Turn it up, dude. I say
Donald comes downstairs in his pajamas. He walks into the kitchen and pours a bowl of cereal. Larry scolds him. Cant you see Im making pancakes? Put the cereal away. Were going to have a civil morning in this house. And were all eating breakfast together. Go get Tanya up.
Donald looks at Larry like hes insane, which was appropriate, because that was the standard look that anyone was given when they suggested that all seven of us eat together, and walked upstairs to get Tanya. It always ended badly.
Pierre, apparently tired of blocking the TV, storms into Sherris bedroom, presumably to shave. Sherri turns to us, and as if she just then noticed us sitting there, throws us the most cheerful smile in the world at us, and says Morning boys! before going off into the bedroom, presumably to get dressed.
Donald returns with a confused and cranky looking Tanya in tow. She smiles tiredly when she sees me. Morning. Whats going on?
The Crazy One and the French One are fighting. The Big One is cooking breakfast. The Other One wanted cereal, but the Big One said no. Im watching cartoons with the Young One.
I see. Which One am I again?
The Cute One.
And you?
Im the Cool One.
Sherri and Pierre re-emerge from the bedroom. She has more clothes this time, and he has less stubble. Pierre is yelling something about how getting a dog would mess up his new car. Sherri smiles at Tanya and gives her a hug. Good morning, daughter!
Tanya is not amused. Good morning, mother. Why am I awake?
Larry wanted to make breakfast for everyone.
Is he nuts? Tanya asks.
Clearly. But hes so cute when he cooks.
Just then from the kitchen we hear, You do it then!
This is the beginning of the Donald and Larry Have A Disagreement Show that airs every Saturday morning in the kitchen.
This week, Donald critiques Larrys pancake flipping method, and Larry challenges Donald to a flip-off. Instead of accepting the flip-off challenge, Donald just flips Larry off.
Larry looks at Sherri for assistance. Sherri says Come on, Donny. Be an adult.
My name is not Donny. Its Donald. If you have to mess with my name, call me Don. But for Gods sake DONT CALL ME DONNY!
Dont scream. Says Tanya
DONT YOU TELL ME WHAT TO DO!
This sends Michell and myself into fits of hysterical laughter.
Congratulations, Donald. You are officially less mature den my eight-year-o ld son. Says Pierre.
Now youre against me? Youre such an asshole. Donald says.
You shoulda flipped the pancakes. Says Larry.
Dont you make it worse. Says Pierre
Im just saying, is all.
Dont say anyteeng you hulking bastard! Pierre says Youve said enough already, and now hes peessed off, and the rest of us have to deal weeth eet.
What the Hell is that supposed to mean? says Donald, obviously hurt.
It means that youre acting like your five, but youre almost forty. Grow up. Says Tanya.
Honey, dont tell him to grow up. I say. Its much funnier when hes acting like a little kid.
Tanya hits me on the arm.
Serves you right. Says Donald
Tanya walks over to Donald and slaps him in the face. Be an adult.
Everyone in the room that did not slap someone in the face or just get slapped in the face falls on the ground laughing. Donald runs upstairs. We recover, and Larry finishes cooking breakfast. Just as we sit down to eat, Donald returns, showered and dressed.
Ill not be joining you. Im going to Dennys. he says.
And with that, Donald leaves the house, slamming the door behind him. Donald has no car. So, naturally, we all check our pockets for car keys, and upon finding that we all have them, go to the window to see just what the hell Donald thinks hes doing. The thing that we see when we look out of that window is a perfect example of why I chose to live in this pit of dysfunction for three years. Donald, a thirty-eight-year-o ld man, is riding an eight-year-o ld boys bicycle to Dennys.

And the laughing didnt stop for an hour.