My gradfather has cancer. In related news, I think my mom is a pirate.

*DISCLAIMER: Cancer is not funny. Cancer is serious and debilitating. The conversation I had was hilarious and revealed to me that my mom might be a pirate. Or a passive aggressive murderer. One of those. Possibly both.

Recently we learned that my grandfather has Oral cancer. I am saddened by this, but not especially suprised. He has chewed cigars (yes, I said chews. As in, take a bite of the cigar and keep in in your cheek for three days.) for my entire life and certainly before I was born. When I went over for a visit the following conversation happened. There is a high probability that it is only funny to me due to the massive stress I am experiencing about life right now. Possibly it is just funny.

Me: How are you feeling?

Pap: Well, I feel OK. So I guess I am not taking the pain pills anymore.

Me: They are what keeps you not feeling bad.

Pap: What do those doctors know?

Me: Ummmm....

Hubs: (sitting quietly in the corner so I don't snipe his head off. Again)

Pap: You know I went in to get my teeth pulled. I told them I wanted them all out and get a set of pearly whites. That doctor wouldn't do it. Sent me to a different doctor. A surgeon.

Mom: He told him to prepare for the worst. I knew what he meant.

Pap: Well, I just thought prepare for the worst meant I had to get all my teeth out.

Me: (confused, but keeping silent. Didn't he go to the doctor to get them all out in the first place?)

Pap: Instead of taking my three teeth out.... AND theystill  hurt... they took out a hunk of my cheek.

Mom: The doctor said to expect the worst. How did he not know they were checking for cancer?

Me: Well, they could have been looking for something else. (Someone has to defend Pap; he has cancer, people.)

Mom: What? What else could they be looking for with a biopsy?

Me: Ummm....

Husband: (Who gave you permission to speak?) Yah, what else are they looking for when they take a biopsy? (His eyes are sparkling, he better not be laughing at me. I'm about to learn what my mom's super hero power is and I will use it on him!)

Me: I don't know. (I am not a doctor and was distracted by all of this pressure about what else a biopsy looks for, but now that no one is badgering me I think they could be looking for all kinds of things... I am just not telling you because I am experiencing PTSD about being yelled at and I forgot again.)

Pap: Well, They sure took a biopsy, allright. That damn doctor took it out and hung a strip of my mouth in front of my eyes.

Me: (stunned horror)

Pap: Ha! Tells me to close my eyes whe he is sewing it up, but shows me the piece of meat he took out of my mouth.

Me: (still unable to form words)

Pap: Then he comes in and tells me the other day that it is cancer.

Me: Well, you do chew cigars. This diagnosis makes sense.

Pap: (Laughing, wth?) I haven't had a cigarret in my mouth in my entire life. Tell all the doctors that, too.

Me: You use smokeless tobacco.

Mom: And I fill out your forms. I tell all the doctors you chew cigars.

Pap: Chewing doesn't have anything to do with the cancer. I chew on the other side.

Me: (Whuk?)

Pap: Nope, I got the cancer because I bit myself.

Me: (trying to process how he thinks that biting the inside of his mouth would cause a mutation of cells. Can't.)

Pap: Besides, I haven't had a cigar in my mouth in a month. Have to wait till my mouth feels better. I got $25 in cigars waiting for me.

***and this is where it gets crazy***

Anyone who knows my grandfather is aware that if anything costs more than seventeen cents he isn't interested in it for himself (he will spare no expense for his family, but for him $0.17 is his personal limit). $25 of cigars is equivallent to eleventy million dollars to him. I know he fully intends to have cigars in his mouth again. My mother is outraged at his plan. Her outrage turns her into a passive aggressive murdering pirate.

Mom: You may have them, but by the time you can get them into your mouth they will be gone! (Her eyes are maybe turning red and glowing here.)

Pap: Can't let it go to waste.

Mom: THEN YOU CAN GIVE THE TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS IN CIGARS TO SOMEONE YOU DON'T LIKE!!!!!

Me: (Still unable to speak. Did my mom just say that?)

I am sad about my grandfather, but I love my family. Even my mom. Especially my mom. Even if she might be planning on giving the cigars to me after she reads this. I will just hope that they are alrady gift wrapped for the person at the pahrmacy who crossed her about getting my grandfathers cancer medication. Look out pharmicyarista, my mom has a gift for you. It's cigars.

My Best Friend Can Make You Spew Coke Through Your Nose

...without even trying to do it.

Some of you are like "Ewwww. Gross." You should probably stop reading right now. Those of you nodding because this has happened to you totally understand what I am talking about. And you few. Yes, you there with the eybrows all akimbo...I know what you are thinking. "At least it wasn't Dr. Pepper. That junk buuuuurrrrnnnnnns!"

So. After lunch we were sitting in her room and she gives me this coke (because I am feeling only about 42% well today). I notice it has a delicate mist over it and begin to sing to the can (because that's how we roll) to the the tune of "Hey Soul Sister" ... and, no. Don't ask. I won't sing it here for you right now. We sing impromptu songs all the time and if you miss the moment, you miss it. Maybe I will sing for you a song someday, but not now. Back to the nose-coke-spewing. The can top hadn't been popped yet, so I am pretty sure that she wouldn't have meade me spew this can. Probably.

So here is the scene... we just finished our musical number for the coke can (I think he liked it) and in my random almost ADD fashion I glance at the bookshelf behind her desk. Conversation as follows... read fast because the following conversation happened in about 45 seconds. I will play the role of me and my Biff will be known as Panda.... because I said so.

Me: Gasp! You have a book about pie! (I notice these things because I like food)

Panda: Meh, it was a freebie. I haven't read it yet.

Me: *BUT IT IS ABOUT PIE* (Eyes wide, folks. We are talking about dessert here!)

Panda: Yes. It is about pie. (Unenthused. *What* is her problem!?!?! It's PIE!)

Me: (Eyeing the book) Well, I like pie. (Could I steal this book unnoticed?)

Panda: (A smile forming... oh! I know this smile. I love this smile.) You see what kind of pie?

Me: NO. Who cares? It's PIE! I like pie.

Panda: (Grinning... uh oh. This is dangerous) BUT.... do you like pussy pie?

Me: Huh? (Confused! I hate cats and vaginas. Gross.)

Panda: Mmmmm hmmmm.... Look at the cover.

Me: HOLY CROW! (Grabbing the book.... YES! It is all there.... )

Panda: (Laughing because she knows the word pussy makes me uncomfortable)

Me: (Looking at the cover. Gasp!!!) You are laughing, but do you know what kind of pussy pie it is?

Panda: Um, no. (Bet she was distracted by the cat and thinking of naughty words.)

Me: CHERRY pussy pie.

.... and then we both burst into laughter. Thank Cheezus that can of coke was not open. That would have been a wet book.