"Now, Madge, what in the world made you wake up talkin' about Elliot? I'm only feelin' your butt because I want to do it to you , like they say, a little lovin' early in the morning ... it wouldn't matter...why don't you turn over this way a little ... where we were livin', it would only be his annual or bi-annual visit; just like it is now. You got to remember, he's thirty-eight years old already, and the way he is is it, so far as his parents are concerned."
"Ah, c'mon now, stop that. You know I can't stay twisted over like this without gettin' that cramp in my leg. I think you're all talk anyway. Get serious. The fact is that Elliot is a successful New York City real estate broker, making good money, while we're slowly going under with just Social Security and your 'little ole pension.' We can't even hardly afford to let him come here for those scarce visits, since he's always gotta have shrimps, and steak, and 'Momma, eggs don't taste like nothin' without smoked salmon,' and so on. Move your hand James, I wanna check and see if you have a point over there! A lousy little check for a hundred a month from Elliot would solve our problems, for a while at least. Maybe if you bite my ear a little."
"Ummm! There, Margaret, that oughta hold you till after breakfast, when I'll really have my bestial way with you. We spoiled that brat, just like every only child gets spolied. Now we're simply screwed outta luck. He probably won't even-come to our funerals to mourn our passing. He'll just come to pass the morning! I wonder if I should apply for that table-wiping job over at Burger King? Part-time, I could do two-hundred a month. But on my feet all the time? I don't know, might make me stop gettin' the hots in the mornin, eh, Madge babe?"
"Oh Jimmy, brutalize me again! But do it after we figure out how to get some money out of our rotten son. And the reason I woke up talkin' about it is that I got a great idea , I mean like a real butt buster if there ever was one!"
"Spill it! You harlot ."
"Now don't get yourself in an uproar when I say it. Promise?"
"I promise, you hussy! Gimmie that ear again!"
"Put you hand here, where it'll stay warm. Let's tell Elliot that he was adopted! "
"Yeah, James, adopted! "
"But what good would that do Margaret? But, say, wait a minute, it would get his attention! I can just see his face. Mouth drops open. Eyes buck out. Then he tries to force a smile, hoping we'll laugh and say it's a joke. Hmmm, could have possibilities. What do you think'll happen?"
"Exactly like you said. He'll do a flip-flop, and then he'll tell us that we're joking. But we'll stick to it! We can say that some young girl came from the Middle-West, broke and in shame. Wanted to give the kid up for adoption. We were gettin' old for havin' kids, heard about it, got it through a court, all legal, and she left. Pfft! That was it."
"But Madge, the first thing he'll bring up is his birth certificate. It says we're his natural parents, Margaret and James Holsom. And he'll bring up that his aunt, your sister Helen, never told him anything like that and...I can't think of what else."
"You're right, stud, but I know for a fact that when there's a court adoption they change the kid's birth certificate to say that the new couple were the natural parents, and the old birth certificate is locked away where nobody is ever allowed to see it. And thank God that I get along with Helen. She's having her own trouble with the brats she had. She'd be happy to 'reluctantly' let the adoption secret outta the bag! Ha! It's my best idea in twenty years! Kiss my navel."
"What about our bitchy daughter-in-law, Astrid. He surely won't want her to know he was adopted. Ah, yes that's it exactly Madge. She's always been into 'family background.' That's the first thing he'll beg us to do, keep it a secret from her! Oh, Margaret, such nice tits, and you're so smart too. I can see the checks comin' now. Every month. 'Are you sure you only need a hundred, Mom, Dad?' he'll be sayin'. Oh, yeah. I love it! But do you think we might wind up feelin' a little guilty?"
"Shhhh, not in the least, you tasty hunk. Let him spend some years tryin' to find his real parents. In the meantime he'll be so grateful to us two 'foster' parents, who did so much for him, he'll probably move in next door and shovel our driveway every winter!"
"Yeah, Margaret, I think you're right. Let him look for his 'real' parents for a while. No, no, stop! No ticklin' till after breakfast."