People Often Don’t Believe Me
sinister to the core- the monkey and the plywood violin
- “What a fucking cliché,”
- skittering across the ice
- “Do you suffer from sea sickness?”
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People often don’t believe me when I say that my mother is sinister to the core. They mention my numerous siblings and how joyful a large family is, they remember my fifth birthday party, when she hired the man with the monkey and the plywood violin to entertain us, and how idyllic that meant my childhood must have been. They ignore the stories of marital strife with my father, of early childhood espionage training exercises, of her highly questionable acts as president. “What a fucking cliché,” they say. “Everyone has mommy issues.” Well, my mommy issues were skittering across the ice of an airborne hockey rink, intent on starting a war.
“Do you suffer from sea sickness?” she asked me with mock sympathy. “Your face is awfully green.”
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