Rhiannon Chronicles 2011 [Thanksgiving]

8 October 2011 – 6:35 PM – After watching the movie ‘Dolphin Tale

Rhiannon: Daddy, are you crying?

Me: No. Men don’t cry. Ever.

Rhiannon: You sure look like you’re crying with all those tears streaming down your face.

Me: But it was so great! The dolphin gets a prosthetic tail and the war heroes came to a better understanding of their injuries. And there were some pretty hot girls jumping into the water at the end there too! I love wet T-shirts- they make me a little teary, I confess.

Rhiannon: Daddy?

Me: Yes?

Rhiannon: You are such a pussy!

Me: Hey!

Rhiannon: Well…

Me: What’s up with that fucking language?

Rhiannon [raising an eyebrow]: Seriously??!!

Me: Er, right. What’s up with that blasted language, young lady?!

Rhiannon: Mmmm-hmmm…


9 October 2011 – 7:30 PM – Thanksgiving Dinner with my mother and her boyfriend

Rhiannon: Daddy?

Me: What?

Rhiannon: Why is it called Thanksgiving? What am I thanking exactly?

Me: Well, to start, you’re thanking me for not strangling you a long time ago.

My mother: Andrew…

Me: We’re also thankful that we’re not Communists and bathe occasionally.

My mother: Andrew…

Rhiannon: Seriously, Daddy!

Me: Okay, okay, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, the French actually exerted some meaningful influence…

My mother: Andrew…

Me [defiantly waving my hand]: No, no – this is Canadian history Mum. And Rhiannon must learn.

Rhiannon: And?

Me: In the 17th Century, a cocky little Frenchman named Samuel de Champlain founded New France – which is now colloquially known as Kebek.

Rhiannon: So?

Me: Well, the French were getting fed up with constantly getting beaten up by the Germans and us… so, they came over here and offered the native Indians some brie cheese in exchange for 1,542,056 square kilometres of property.

My mother: Andrew…

Me: Well, it’s true. But it has a happy ending Rhiannon. After England vanquished the Land of Weakness in the 7 Years War, we brought order to the galaxy and ruled it as father and son.

Rhiannon: Daddy?

Me: Yes.

Rhiannon: Take off your Darth Vader mask and take your meds!

My mother: Agreed!!!


10 October 2011 – at La Banquise eating a T-Rex poutine

My mother: This is simply appalling.

Me: What?

My mother: You have bacon and sausage coming out your nose. In fact, you have bits of ham dribbling out of your ears.

Rhiannon: Hee, hee! Daddy’s such a geek!

My mother: It’s not that Rhiannon. First of all, he’s 43 years old and needs a damn bib. Second, it’s disgusting to eat poutine with 5 different kinds of meat in it!!!

Me: Mrrrrmmmmfffffffghghhhh.

Rhiannon: Ha, ha ha! He can’t even speak his mouth is so full of fries and endangered species!!

My mother [bowing her head and crossing herself]: God forgive me for having reproduced. This is all so wrong.

Me: Hey, Rhiannon!

Rhiannon: What?

Me: Gravy-snorting contest?!

Rhiannon: Oh yeah!

My mother’s boyfriend: I’m leaving.

Rhiannon [with a straw shoved up her nose]: What’s his problem?

About Requiem for the Damned

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