pieces, which I quickly ascertained represented the key players in last night’s melodrama. For example, the chess queen behind the Froot Loops lectern was Mother, while the white pawn from the Clue game, resting on a tuna can, signified Madam Petrova.
I frowned at the other tuna can. “You’re a chess queen, and I’m a Tiddly Wink? ”
Mother’s eyebrows scaled her forehead, seeking escape. “Why not, dear? Didn’t you love to play Tiddly Winks as a young sprout?”
“I also loved Old Maid but I don’t want to be one! Anyway, you’re the Borne who liked that game. I thought it was stupid. Peggy Sue hated it.” My older sister. “Why can’t you be the Tiddly Wink?”
Mother put hands on hips. “Because then I couldn’t be seen behind the Froot Loops!”
She had a point.
“Then make me Michelangelo,” I suggested, referring to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle among the other game pieces in the front Popsicle stick row.
“Sorry, dear. That’s the man from Sotheby’s.”
I stuck out my lower lip. “Well, I could be one of the other turtles you didn’t use…there are four in the TMNT game, you know.”
Mother shook her head vigorously, and amazingly nothing rattled. “Absolutely not . They all look alike. I might become confused.”
“First of all, you are often confused anyway. And second of all, the turtles do not look alike. Leonardo has a blue mask and carries a sword, while Donatello has a purple mask and uses a stick —”
Mother stomped her foot, in the manner she’d employed when little “sprout” Brandy used to get under her skin. Which had been frequently.
“Dear!” Mother said, exasperated. “If you didn’t want to be the Tiddly Wink, you should have gotten up earlier.”
“What? I’m psychic now? And when would that have been—like…three in the morning? ”
Mother ignored that, saying testily, “I have already written down who is what and have committed it to memory. To do otherwise would make it difficult for me. I’m an older woman and you must make allowances.”
As astonishing as her admission to being an “older woman” might have been, it paled next to her disingenuousness. I happened to know that Mother learned her entire part of “Everybody Loves Opal” in one night, when she stepped in to replace the lead actress after a stage light dropped on her (the actress, not Mother) (no, Mother didn’t drop the light) (at least, she had an alibi).
Mother reached behind the dining room table and, with a dramatic flourish, produced another piece of cardboard that she placed on a chair, making an easel out of it.
Printed with a black marker in large capital letters was:
MADAM PETROVA = CLUE ® —MRS. WHITE
DON KAUFMAN = OPERATION ® —LEG BONE
KATHERINE ESTHERHAUS = CLUE ® —CANDLESTICK
SERGEI IVANOV = COOTIE ® —HEAD
JOHN RICHARDS = TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLE ®
LOUIS MARTINETTE = PARCHEESI ® —ELEPHANT
SAMUEL WOODS = MONOPOLY ® —TOP HAT
MOTHER = CHESS ® —QUEEN
BRANDY = TIDDLY WINKS ® —TIDDLY WINK
I ignored the redundancy of the last entry, even though it described my own role, and said, “I don’t think chess needs a registered trademark.”
Mother had become a stickler about crediting trademarks after she’d gotten into trouble producing a play she wrote that had used the Coca-Cola logo in the title. She might have got away with it had she not sent the script to Coke’s Atlanta HQ, asking if they’d like to back her in a nationwide tour of said play. (Her next original work was entitled: “Cease and Desist.”)
Anyway, Mother looked at me for a long moment before asking tersely, “Don’t you have somewhere to be ?”
I checked my Chico’s watch, which I hadn’t removed from my wrist last night.
“Oh, yeah…I’m supposed to pick up Tina in an hour.”
Mother’s eyebrows climbed again. “ Well? You wouldn’t want to be late for your BFFF.”
“You put in an extra ‘F,’ Mother.”
“Did I? Well,
I frowned at the other tuna can. “You’re a chess queen, and I’m a Tiddly Wink? ”
Mother’s eyebrows scaled her forehead, seeking escape. “Why not, dear? Didn’t you love to play Tiddly Winks as a young sprout?”
“I also loved Old Maid but I don’t want to be one! Anyway, you’re the Borne who liked that game. I thought it was stupid. Peggy Sue hated it.” My older sister. “Why can’t you be the Tiddly Wink?”
Mother put hands on hips. “Because then I couldn’t be seen behind the Froot Loops!”
She had a point.
“Then make me Michelangelo,” I suggested, referring to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle among the other game pieces in the front Popsicle stick row.
“Sorry, dear. That’s the man from Sotheby’s.”
I stuck out my lower lip. “Well, I could be one of the other turtles you didn’t use…there are four in the TMNT game, you know.”
Mother shook her head vigorously, and amazingly nothing rattled. “Absolutely not . They all look alike. I might become confused.”
“First of all, you are often confused anyway. And second of all, the turtles do not look alike. Leonardo has a blue mask and carries a sword, while Donatello has a purple mask and uses a stick —”
Mother stomped her foot, in the manner she’d employed when little “sprout” Brandy used to get under her skin. Which had been frequently.
“Dear!” Mother said, exasperated. “If you didn’t want to be the Tiddly Wink, you should have gotten up earlier.”
“What? I’m psychic now? And when would that have been—like…three in the morning? ”
Mother ignored that, saying testily, “I have already written down who is what and have committed it to memory. To do otherwise would make it difficult for me. I’m an older woman and you must make allowances.”
As astonishing as her admission to being an “older woman” might have been, it paled next to her disingenuousness. I happened to know that Mother learned her entire part of “Everybody Loves Opal” in one night, when she stepped in to replace the lead actress after a stage light dropped on her (the actress, not Mother) (no, Mother didn’t drop the light) (at least, she had an alibi).
Mother reached behind the dining room table and, with a dramatic flourish, produced another piece of cardboard that she placed on a chair, making an easel out of it.
Printed with a black marker in large capital letters was:
MADAM PETROVA = CLUE ® —MRS. WHITE
DON KAUFMAN = OPERATION ® —LEG BONE
KATHERINE ESTHERHAUS = CLUE ® —CANDLESTICK
SERGEI IVANOV = COOTIE ® —HEAD
JOHN RICHARDS = TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLE ®
LOUIS MARTINETTE = PARCHEESI ® —ELEPHANT
SAMUEL WOODS = MONOPOLY ® —TOP HAT
MOTHER = CHESS ® —QUEEN
BRANDY = TIDDLY WINKS ® —TIDDLY WINK
I ignored the redundancy of the last entry, even though it described my own role, and said, “I don’t think chess needs a registered trademark.”
Mother had become a stickler about crediting trademarks after she’d gotten into trouble producing a play she wrote that had used the Coca-Cola logo in the title. She might have got away with it had she not sent the script to Coke’s Atlanta HQ, asking if they’d like to back her in a nationwide tour of said play. (Her next original work was entitled: “Cease and Desist.”)
Anyway, Mother looked at me for a long moment before asking tersely, “Don’t you have somewhere to be ?”
I checked my Chico’s watch, which I hadn’t removed from my wrist last night.
“Oh, yeah…I’m supposed to pick up Tina in an hour.”
Mother’s eyebrows climbed again. “ Well? You wouldn’t want to be late for your BFFF.”
“You put in an extra ‘F,’ Mother.”
“Did I? Well,
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