My Parent's are Nuts!

My Dad’s a Nutcase, My Mom’s a Freak, and I’m From a Parallel Universe


So, you think your family is completely and totally demented. Your parents act as though they’ve never heard of a television or a computer. Your dad spends too much time talking about the “good old days”, and your mom’s best dish is anything with casserole at the end of it. Well, I’ve got some bad news for you:
YOU INHERITED THEIR GENETIC DNA!
So now what do you do?
Well, if you call this toll-free number 1-800-MY-LIFE-CANT-GET-MUCH-WORSE-SO-PLEASE-MAKE-IT-BETTER
We will send you this package of
GENES AWAY!
For only $19.95 and if that doesn’t work, we’ll send you a strong dosage of cyanide...free!
So get to the phone, or find us online at:
www/myparentsarebeyondstrange/com

I sat at my desk writing a commercial ad for all of you people who are beyond hope with what to do about your parents. I should’ve been studying for finals, but I didn’t feel like it and my head was pounding. Besides, I had another week.
Just when I was drawing my can of GENES AWAY!, my six-year-old prodigy sister came bounding in. She was smiling, and I knew that no matter how little I wanted to hear it, she was going to tell me why. It was one of those things she does.
“What do you want, Kelsey?” I asked, exasperated.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked in that six-year-old lisp.
“I have a headache.” I said, laying my head pathetically on my desk.
“Maybe you should go see a neurologist,” my sister joked.
This is why my sister is a prodigy. As a six-year-old, she is not supposed to know how to say neurologist. She isn’t supposed to know what is means. Nor is she supposed to carry on political conversations, or know what an oxymoron is. She shouldn’t get adult jokes, but she understands them perfectly.
“So what is it?” I asked.
“Well, Terry, I was just going to say that Mom and Dad enrolled me in St. Thomas’s School for Gifted Children.” Kelsey said, all pleased with herself.
“Congrats. Now, I have to get back to studying...” I trailed off, looking at my history notes.
“Do you want help?” Kelsey asked innocently.
“From you? No.” I snorted slightly.
“Terry, let your sister help!” my mom yelled through the hall. She must’ve been walking by the door while we were talking.
“So...what do you need help with?” Kelsey asked, that sweet, innocent face so full of hope to help me.
“I need help keeping my sanity. Now go before I sick Jimmy at you,” and with that, the little brat prodigy scurried off.
Jimmy, my tarantula, is my only means of escaping Kelsey. She is mortally afraid of spiders, and so whenever I don’t want her in my room, I always let him onto my bed. It has never failed me once.
Jimmy is my best friend. He always listens to my problems because the rest of the family doesn’t. My sister thinks I’m stupid, and whatever she thinks, the rest of the family agrees.
I stared at the bottom of my can of GENES AWAY! and wrote in small letters “from the makers of sister repellent”. I decided I would create an ad for that after I was done studying. I stared at my history notes, wondering why I was even bothering to pretend to study when no one’s around.
“Terry, dinner!” my mom yelled.
I jumped out of my chair, praying for it not to be a form of casserole, and was pleasantly surprised when it was grilled chicken. I’m a barbeque-aholic.
“So, Terry, was Kelsey of an help?” my mom asked.
I was about to answer when my sister opened her big mouth.
“Actually, Terry threatened my well being with her arachnid.” I wanted to punch her!
“Well, Terry, Kelsey can help you afterwards. And if I hear any more threats taking place, Terry, that spider will go.” My mother is so cruel.
“I wouldn’t feel too comfortable sleeping tonight.” I whispered threateningly to Kelsey, who gulped and didn’t say another word all through dinner.
Kelsey didn’t bother coming to my room. The threat of putting Jimmy in her bed was all too real for her. However, I don’t think I would ever put Jimmy in a surrounding like hers.
Kelsey’s room looks like a girl’s room should look, according to her, according to my parents, and according to the rest of the world. It’s pink, frilly, and cute. She has stuffed animals all around it and hearts, flowers, and a vanity. There’s only one thing wrong with it: the encyclopedias.
They are big, black, and totally don’t belong in her room. Of all places, they should be in my room, which is midnight blue with dark furniture. However, since I don’t have the brains for them, they go in Kelsey’s room.
My parents have strange beliefs in how Kelsey became a child prodigy. My mom thinks it’s because she ate a lot of brussel sprouts. My dad believes it was because my mom wore a lot of purple when she was pregnant. For some reason, he thinks the color purple is a “smart” color.
I just think she got one good gene. Out of every single person in the entire universe, my sister got a good gene, one that made her a prodigy. And me queen of the idiots.
Okay, so how about queen of the averages? Myself, my brain capacity is average, which is just fantabulous to me. Not much is expected of me, so my grades don’t have to be perfect. I mean, my grades aren’t bad or anything but well, I’ll let you decide. My grades are usually C’s, B’s, a rare A, and once and a while, a D. Like I said, average.
That’s what I like about being average. It gives me the ability to be smart when I want to be, and the rest of the time I can just be normal/stupid. It works out very well.
That’s how my friends and I are. We walk around, only understanding what isn’t too difficult to understand. We write each other notes during class, and do our homework in the class before it’s due.
“Terry, why can’t you be smart like Kelsey?” my mom asks me sometimes.
“Because either a) you didn’t eat enough brussel sprouts(for some reason my mom thinks that they’re smart food) b) you didn’t wear enough purple or, c) my genes got all mixed up. Oh yeah, and d) all of the above.” I tell her when the question arises.
“Don’t get smart with your mother,” my dad says.
“No problem of that.” I mutter, and my mom glares at me. But none of that mattered. What really mattered was the fact that I had exams in two weeks and I hadn’t studied Besides that, there was nothing I could really think about.
Okay...so I really had to get back to studying...

Has your sister ever annoyed you? Shown you up in any way? Or has she embarrassed you to the point of wanting to go into permanent hiding? Well, here is your solution
Introducing:
SISTER REPELLENT!
Better known to scientists as
PROJECT JIMMY
The best scientists from the block of 573 Arc St. have developed a solution of repellent to get rid of your annoying sister. So call this toll-free number:
1-800-MY-SISTER-CANT-DRIVE-ME-ANY-MORE-NUTS-THAN-THIS
and for $19.95 we will give you SISTER REPELLENT! and if that doesn’t work, we’ll send you a gun with one bullet in it...free!
So get to the phone or contact us online at:
www/iwishnothingmorethantogetawayfrommysister/com
AND COMING SOON:
FINALS-B-GONE!

I was still sitting there, not studying, pretending to write commercial ads for you people who have weird parents and annoying sisters. I should’ve probably gotten back to studying, but then I had to draw the SISTER REPELLENT! can.
Okay, the can was drawn, and then I was back to staring at my history book. Almost in slow motion, I could see Napoleon Bonaparte leading his troops into battle as I was reading about it. Then I turned to the chapter that I was actually studying and began to pointlessly stare at the book.
Jimmy continued to watch me from his glass cage. I couldn’t see him, since I wasn’t looking at him, but I know when he looks at me. I can feel his many eyes on my back, watching me ignore him. I sighed and continued to pointlessly stare at my book.
I realized that staring at my book was hopeless when I was on the same page for twenty minutes. I shut the book and tore another piece of paper from my notebook. I had to think about this one, because I was running out of ways to present my next product. Finally, here’s what I came up with:

Have you been stuck with the torture of studying for finals? Is the work overload too much to handle? Do you feel a mental breakdown coming any second?
Well...be gone with it!
FINALS-B-GONE! that is.
This formula from the makers of GENES AWAY! and SISTER REPELLENT!, is designed to rid you of finals.
Just call this toll-free number:
1-800-WILL-THE-TORTURE-EVER-DISAPPEAR-OR-AM-I-STUCK-IN-THIS-HELL-HOLE-FOREVER
and for $19.95 we will send you FINALS-B-GONE! and if that doesn’t work, we’ll send you a box of rat poison...free!
So get to the phone or contact us online at:
www/icanttakethepainmuchlongerandineedsomerelieffromallthetorturebeforeienditall/com
My parents, my child prodigy sister, and my finals. I don’t know how my life can get much worse. I do know one thing, though: I’d be all set for a career in advertisement.