"Mom?" Al yelled from upstairs as he woke up Saturday afternoon. An unfinished can of beer sat on the bedside table next to the stale crust from a piece of pizza. "Mom?" He yelled again as he stretched his pudgy arms and moaned into his pillow. She barked something back in her gravelly voice before stomping up the stairs to open the door.
"What do you want?" she demanded, looking in disgust at the filth of pizza boxes and used tissues that littered the floor.
"Can you make me a PB and J?" Al asked sweetly, giving her his best puppy-dog eyes and cute smile through his untrimmed peach fuzz and neck beard.
"Fuck that," she scowled. "Get your own PB and J." Without another word, she made her way back downstairs to continue folding his laundry. Al groaned and cursed under his breath before pulling himself out of bed and stumbling down the stairs. He opened the fridge, shielding his eyes from the light.
"There's no jelly," he yelled, slamming the door shut and opening the cabinet to find the peanut butter.
"Use jam, you fucktard," she responded, stringing together a string of expletives as she cursed his laziness. He scowled and sifted through the cans of refried beans and chicken broth.
"Almond butter? Seriously, woman?" Al slammed the cabinet shut and kicked the ground in frustration. He spat into the sink. "You some kind of vegan psycho health nut now?" Al asked with a frown before chuckling at his perceived pun. She cursed back at him from the laundry room.
"Go to the fucking grocery store yourself if you don't like what I have," she yelled in irritation.
"You know I can't drive, woman!"
"You're thirty-two years old, Albert! Get your fucking license!" He kicked the wall in anger.
"Where's the bread, mother?" He demanded, shoving aside the bagels in the bread cabinet. "Just ends? Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Does it look like I'm kidding, you little motherfucker? If you ain't got nothin' nice to say then don't say nothin'!"
"I don't eat crust, why the hell would I eat ends? This shit is for peasants!" Al threw the bag with the two end pieces into the trashcan and stormed back upstairs, abandoning his ambitious dream of making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Hungry and irate, he sifted through the pizza boxes until finding an uneaten jalapeno and washing it down with the remnants of the beer.
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