Sunday, January 8, 2012

Just a Typical Day

So the phone rang the other day. I find that a lot of trouble starts that way. Especially lately.


It was the "retirement residence" where Doris is currently locked up. I watched Anthony's face as he listened to the voice on the other end. Immediately, I knew it was going to be one of those days.

Finally, Anthony told the caller that they didn't need to do anything, and as a matter of fact, that they had no authority to speak on that particular topic.

He put the phone down, and started to rant.

Seems his welfare-collecting, con-artist, weasel of a brother John had finally made his way to the place where their mother was now living. He had never once gone to visit her since Anthony placed her in the residence a few months back. But he'd magically found his way there on that day. However, not to visit.

No. He wanted the administrator of the residence to sign a letter to the effect that he, Weasel-John, had been unable to fulfill his community-service sentence due to the fact that he, Weasel-John, HAD BEEN TAKING CARE OF HIS ALZHEIMER'S-RIDDEN MOTHER.

OK, let's review.

Doris had two sons. One, John the Con, the elder, is your typical free-loading, irresponsible, criminal-type psycho, who thinks the world owes him a living plus change.

The second son is Anthony, who is your typical hard-working, tax-paying, responsible-type salt-of-the-earth guy, who has never asked anyone for help his entire life. 

You couldn't find two more opposite brothers. It's bizarre, and I'm not the first person who's asked Anthony if he just maybe was adopted? 

Anyhow. Figure the looks on our faces when we got this call. We (1) had no clue that John had been convicted of anything recently, or that he'd been sentenced to community service hours. And (2) the freaking gall of John hitting up the residence administrator for a letter attesting to the alleged reasons why he just couldn't do the community service (poor baby) was mountainous. Mountainous, I repeat. Mountains of gall. Just picture it.

Anthony and I stared at each other. I recall sputtering.

Me: "Sputter. He managed to find his way to the residence? He is sitting in their office right now? Demanding they sign a letter saying that he's been SO HARD AT WORK TAKING CARE of DORIS, that he couldn't do his community service? You're kidding, right?"

Anthony: "Mrghlmrglmememmmmm..."


Me: "He collects welfare, works under the table when he feels like it, sells and buys drugs, and has lived with your mother for the last three years, WHILE SHE TOOK CARE OF HIM, and now he's claiming HE TOOK CARE OF HER?" 

My voice rose through this diatribe, until it hit really a rather high pitch.


Anthony: "MRGLLGMEMEMMMMEEMMMM..."

Me: "Her house is falling into the ground, and he never once picked up a hammer or a rake or anything, and she gave him money and charged no rent, and bought groceries and cooked for him, while he fraudulently collected Welfare, and every once in awhile, he'd freak out for good measure, and throw cups of hot tea at her, and smash furniture, because she wasn't handing over enough money. AND HE WANTS THEM TO ATTEST TO HOW HE TOOK SUCH INTENSE CARE OF HER THAT HE COULDN'T DO HIS COMMUNITY-SERVICE?" 

I was pretty much screaming at this point.

Anthony: "Yes." 

Steam was coming out of his ears by now. Anthony picked up the phone and called the residence back. Johnny-boy was still sitting with the administrator, harassing her to sign the letter. She was demurring, as she should, because she had no knowledge of whether or not Johnny-boy had helped his mother even one iota, which in fact he had not (see above rant). She'd never met John before that day, since Anthony was the one she'd been dealing with. Since Anthony is the one who has had to do everything for his mother since she became incapable.

Anthony got John on the line. I won't repeat the conversation word for word. But basically, Anthony wanted to know what exactly Johnny had been convicted of (uttering death threats, apparently), why he hadn't done the community service hours (because the world owes Weasel-boy a living, I already told you that), and btw, NO YOU DID NOT TAKE CARE OF OUR MOTHER, YOU HAVE NEVER TAKEN CARE OF HER, SHE WAS TAKING CARE OF YOU UNTIL THE END, AND GET THE HELL OUT OF THAT RESIDENCE AND LEAVE THEM ALONE BECAUSE NO ONE IS SIGNING ANYTHING; ESPECIALLY SOMETHING THAT IS AN OUTRIGHT LIE.

Or words to that effect.

The next couple of hours were spent on the phone. Anthony called John's lawyer. Yes, John is on welfare, yet somehow can afford his own lawyer. 

Oh, said the lawyer. We're just trying to buy your brother time. He might go to jail if he can't produce a plausible excuse as to why he didn't do the community service. What's that? You don't mind if your brother goes to jail?  You think he had lots of time to do the community service and just didn't do it, because that's how he has faced every responsibility in his life? He doesn't do what he's supposed to, then refuses to make amends? Really? But, don't you love your brother? Wouldn't it be better for you if he stayed out of jail?

Right. How, may I ask, would it be better for us if Johnny stayed out of jail?

What a world we live in.

It's been a few days since all this happened. I have no idea if Johnny got off the hook (as he always seems to) or if he's in jail as I write this. But I know what I'd prefer.

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