(ring-ring)

- Today?

- That's my name don't wear it out—Will you hold on, Mom!

- What's going on?

- Nothing.  Mom's being a Monday.

- That's not nice.

- I know.  I'm horrible.

- That's not like you—you're usually not aware.

- I don't realize until after I yell at her, I guess.

- Why'd you yell?

- I couldn't remember what I did with my stupid house keys, and while I was trying to stupid remember, she said something stupid like, maybe it's not in the house.  Well, how did I get in the house, Mom?  How did I get in?

- I don't know, I'm not your mom.

- It's not like the butler let me in.

- Did you find it?

- Yes, eventually.

- Was it in the house?

- No.

- Where was it?

- Doesn't matter.

- (laughs) Where was it? 

- I forgot I had gone back out to get my milkshake.  I always do this to her, snap at her because I impulsively dismiss her brain but all she hears is the roar and amidst that she has a few moments to plead her case...but not anymore to prove her point. 

- Oh.

- It makes me sad.  I don't want to think about it any more.

- Okay—

- You know, there's something subtly traumatic about it, year by year.  

- That's cause it sounds like the same thing an abused dog experiences.

- But I don't abuse my mom.

- You're used to how you treat her.  Like she's used to your yelling.

- I should tell her she was right, but I don't know if that's what she was really thinking about.  I gotta go, she made me dinner.

- Yea, patch things up—ask for seconds.

- She's always watching cooking shows, but she always makes the same things.

- Jesus, you are horrible.  

- Maybe she's afraid.

- What time is it?

- Oh hurry up!

- What's it matter, no one read yesterday's.