(the boys play nice)
An email exchange between my mom and I, detailing the latest developments in the blood feud:
Mom: So, dinner while watching the Sox game tonight? Will that be acceptable for you?
Me: You don’t know me at all, do you? Catch any of last night’s game? Matty Clement has balls of steel.
Mom (graciously ignoring my comments on the density of our pitcher’s naughty bits): As a matter of fact, yes. Your bro was over and watched most of it with me. Tek got on base and Kev goes, “Damn, I’m never gonna live this down. She had to call and wake me up this morning, giving me shit about his 3-run homer last night.”
Me: I left him a message that said: “So was that a 3 run bomb that Tek hit? It was, right? But hey, good to see they put Dougie in when he couldn’t do any damage. Nice to see he’s getting some work in.”
Mom: You’re bad.
Me: Tell Kev Dougie goes tonight so it’s his opportunity to make up some ground.
Mom: I don’t think I’ll have to tell him. He knows. You two can argue while watching it over dinner.
Me: You enjoy antagonizing your children. We need some more blood feud updates.
Mom: No bloodshed in my living room!
Me: You take all the fun out of things.