Real Conversation with Mom

Mom: "No!"

Me: "But it's warm."

Mom:  "You are not cutting down weeds in the rain."

Me:  "I'm already wet."

Mom:  "You will slide down the hill in the mud and break your leg.  And catch a cold.  And give it to me.  Then I will probably have to kill you."

Me:  "You wouldn't kill me."

Mom:  "I think I would have to."

Me:  "Who would bury the body for you?  You can't do it with your arthritis."

Mom:  "Hmmm..."

Me:  "You can't kill me until you decide who will help you bury the body."

Mom:  "Dennis will do it."

Me:  "Dennis?  Dennis, my former department chair?!"

Mom:  "Yes.  Dennis will do it.  He likes to dig in the dirt.  And he could probably use the fertilizer.  Yes, Dennis will bury your body, and I will just tell people that you never came back from your trip to Ireland."

Me:  "It disturbs me that you have this planned out so clearly."

Mom:  "Then you'd better not act like an idiot and garden in the rain and give me a cold!  Mom has spoken!"

Me:  "Indeed."