My elderly mother was to be cared for by

My elderly mother was to be cared for by Nadine, the robot, for all needs. Chuck Berry played his song, "Nadine" as she walked in and introduced herself. Mum was suddenly awake.

"Mum," I said over the radio's blaring, "Meet Nadine, the robot nurse we discussed." "Nadine! Marvelous!" declared Mum. "Knew you'd like her." "'Do not! I meant this Berry song."

Suddenly I fell to the floor, clutching at my heart. "Boring conversation anyway" I quipped, as my mother took me in her arms and I breathed my last. Was it murder? Or

was it her droning on and on about her rheumatoid arthritis and sudoku? My mom looked down at my slowly cooling corpse. "Anyway... I just talked to Aunt Irene the other day and she

had two tickets to see the obscure ice-football competition! It's El Salvador vs. Niger." What?! I didn't know Aunt Irene hated me so much. Those kind of things were

my "thing", and I hated to miss them. But Aunt Irene always tried prevent me from going to them by planning elaborate family dinners on the same night. Well, I had had enough!

I told Aunt Irene to take her elaborate family dinner invitation, roll it up into a real tight cylinder, grease it thoroughly with butter, lard or other available edible lubricant,

and shove it up her ass until her brain got tickled. Aunt Irene pretended not to understand and simply asked, "What?" Like she hadn't heard us tell her what she could do with her

ideas vis a vis bondage gear. Then a high ear piercing sine wave started bellowing its message subliminally of Solidarity with the working men and women that make up our workforce.

They all joined hands, knowing that bickering would never get them anywhere. They all realized they were no longer little girls. They were little women.