The Firework Exploded (The Holidays #3)(30)

She finishes with her rambling explanation and I don’t know whether to shake her or thank her for worrying about Sam and wanting to help him. I probably should have clued her in on the fact that it’s no longer necessary that we do everything we can to make sure he remains calm and explained to her about his blood pressure and the penis problem. I kind of thought the cat zombie apocalypse would have been pretty self-explanatory that we were wasting our time trying to keep anyone calm, but obviously not.

“I hate Mister Ed,” Jamie announces from the couch. “Unless he can bring me a pizza, extra cheese.”

Scheva laughs around a mouthful of hair. “I have to tell you a secret. Mister Ed isn’t really a horse. I mean, he was a horse, but he’s not a horse now. Like, he was a horse back when TV shows were in black and white, but now he’s a penis that can’t spray hose water at a garden party on top of a mountain after a race. Or something like that. We should go outside and plant a garden. I want some cumquats. Can you grow cumquats in a garden? CUMQUATS. That’s a funny word too.”

I shoot Scheva another dirty look. I’m still a little pissed at her that she blurted out the whole Mister Ed thing to Sam a few weeks ago before I could tell him. He wasn’t too happy that my entire family and Scheva knew about his problem and that all the Mister Ed comments had been about him and his penis. It took a lot of blow-job promises for after the wedding to get him to calm down. Right when I was starting to give in and forgive Scheva, she goes and feeds my mother pot Rice Krispy treats.

“Love sucks,” Jamie says with a nod. “Penis plus love equals misery, and it all sucks.”

“Wow, you’re like, really smart,” Scheva sighs.

“I’M DYING! CALL AN AMBULANCE!” my mother screams again, bringing my focus back to her and away from the two idiots on the couch.

“Mom, you’re not dying, your just really, really high. Aunt Bobbie is going to make you some coffee, you’re going to drink it, and then we’re just going to wait until this is over,” I reassure her, unclasping her fists from my shirt and putting her hands in her lap.

Aunt Bobbie comes back into the room with a mug of black coffee and squats down next to me to hold it out to my mother.

She takes one look at it and then starts shaking her head back and forth.

“No! I’m dying! Noel, call an ambulance. They can make it stop. CALL THEM RIGHT NOW AND TELL THEM TO MAKE IT STOP!” she yells.

“Mom, I can’t call an ambulance. You ate Rice Krispy treats with illegal drugs in them. Do you want to get arrested a week before my wedding?” I ask her, trying to remain calm when she won’t stop freaking out.

“WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH? EVERYONE HATES ME AND WANTS ME TO DIE!”

Just wanting her to stop yelling at this point, I quickly pull my phone out of my pocket and start pressing buttons without unlocking the screen.

“WHY IS MY VOICE SO LOUD? IS THIS WHAT HAPPENS RIGHT BEFORE YOU DIE?” she screams.

“Look! I’m calling an ambulance right now,” I tell her, pointing to my phone I now have held up against my ear. “Just calm down and everything will be okay.”

She stares wide-eyed at my phone while I start pretending like the call went through.

“Hi, yes, I need an ambulance for my mother. No, she’s absolutely NOT dying, she’s just a little high and needs some assistance to make it stop,” I speak to my still-locked phone, angling the bottom away from my mouth to smile at my mother. “See? I’m on the phone with an ambulance right now and they’re going to make everything better.”

Before I barely finish my reassuring statement, she smacks the phone out of my hand and it flies across the room. I can see the shattered screen from here and I curse under my breath.

“I just replaced that thing after Scheva burned my old one!” I grumble.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU CAN’T CALL AN AMBULANCE! THEY’LL CALL THE COPS AND THEN I’LL GO TO JAIL!” she wails. “I can’t go to jail. I’m too pretty to go to jail.”

Just then, a loud scream comes from outside the house and we all turn toward the doorway when the front door opens and slams shut. Sam runs into the room, panting heavily, looking over his shoulder and not paying attention to where he’s going until he bangs his leg into the coffee table.

“Son of a bitch!” he curses, leaning down to rub his knee. “That f*cking cat attacked me again.”

“Is he here to kill me like he did Furd Terguson? Terg Furduson?” my mother asks, unable to get the name right.

“Is she okay? Why is she making that face?” Sam asks, looking at my mother who is making duck lips and looking down her nose to try and see them.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were working late?” I ask him as he limps over to me and bends down to give me a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I got a text from Scheva a half hour ago that just said, ‘Emergency. Come quick. Bev is trying to light the curtains on fire. Bring more Pop Tarts,’” he tells me.

“I love you so much,” I reply softly.

“Hey, are you Mister Ed?” Jamie asks, looking Sam up and down. “You’re too hot to have a problem with your sprinklers.”

Sam groans and covers his eyes with his hand.

Scheva smacks Jamie on the arm before I can give her a look of warning to shut the hell up already about Mister Ed before Sam changes his mind and refuses to take the blow job vouchers.