Was about 18 or 19. I was going through my punk rock phase, rocking a spikey leather jacket, but I’m not a hooligan by any definition of the term.
I’m standing outside a dressing room waiting for my mother who is trying on different outfits to wear to my sister’s memorial service.
None of us are feeling particularly chipper.
Me: *smile and nod*
Man: Jesus is the answer you are searching for, Son.
Me: I really wasn’t searching for anything more than a pair of slacks for my mother.
Man: Well if you were MY son I wouldn’t let you leave the house looking like that.
He then jabs me in the chest.
*my mom has heard the entire interaction from inside the dressing room. My sister just died, all bets are off.*
Mom: If you were his father we would kill you in your sleep AND SWALLOW YOUR SOUL! Now run along outside and play a game of hide and go f#ck yourself before I break you.
Me: Did you just make an Evil Dead 2 reference?
Mom: I don’t know, but I’m sad and I’m pissed and it felt right.
It just came out.
I shared the best hug of my life with my mom that day.
No idea what happened to Mr. Jerkface.
He kinda just wandered away after we stopped paying attention to him.