Dad is taking a shit

Every time I ring my parents and I ask my mother where my dad is , she says he's taking a shit or walking in the house with a catheter. I would love to think that he's like a fluffy husky dog, so happy to hear my voice that he wets his pants but the reality is that he has a weak bladder.

As he gets older, he's more paranoid about his health and scared of death so he kills my mother instead with the list of pains and symptoms. Maria my blood pressure is quite high he says, and you can hear my mother really fed up mumbling things like well if you didn't drink the entire production of coffee from fuc**ing Colombia, you would be fine asshole!


Maria, I'm not breathing properly and I have insomnia he says and mother desperate to cut her own wrists mumbling ... well you are supposed to count those damn sheeps if you wanna fall asleep and ideally without using a calculator fricking Einstein!


They go to bed and dad keeps tossing and talking all night long like a flipping broken record. I feel for my mother and I think even Mother Teresa would have lost her patience with him so I know that if I was her , I would want an eject button on my dad's pillow to make him join Apollo 13 or get a faulty electric blanket and try to electrocute him once for all.

The next day mother has black dark circles around her eyes like a panda and could be the new face of WWF and she is swearing in Turkish and bear in mind that we don't speak Turkish at home cause we are not Turkish, we are damn Italians.


The next day I send a picture of my mother to a printing company and I ask them to reprint those pictures with a halo on her head saying Holy Maria, mother and wife of mercy !