Julie and George

- Your mother´s a bitch. – Georges says.

-That´s so sweet! You are bounding already. – Julie says while reading a magazine.

- She doesn´t like me. Not one bit.

- You know my mother cares only about her dog right? You shouldn´t be wasting your time.

- She is in our living room, eating our food, sitting on our chair talking about our lives, and you are here, reading a magazine as nothing was happening.  You started this war and the one getting bombed here it´s me.

- You are such a girl.

- IT`S YOUR MOTHER!

- I know!

- Please do something.

- I´m doing already! I´m in the kitchen, reading a magazine and God that feels great.

- She says my clothes aren´t well ironed, the chicken is too salty, the sofa doesn´t match the carpet and that we should get married in a church. She even has a specific priest! 

- Father John?

- Do you know that guy?

- I probably knew him before I knew my mother.

George reasons slightly worried.

- Should I be worried?

Julie nods.

- She bought us a Jesus Christ painting. – George continuous.

- How big?

- Bigger than the TV.

- That´s a record.

- It´s sitting in front of the dining table. It makes me feel guilty for my entire existence.

- Just don´t look.

- He stares at me as I was eating my brother. Get that thing out of my house.

- The painting or my mother?

George pulls the magazine away.

- Hey! I was reading that.

- The Mama Gertrude´s knitting magazine?

- Mama Gertrude has interesting articles.

- If she writes as she dresses, her articles must be as interesting as my grandma´s curtains.  I don´t want to eat my food with your mother and Jesus judging me. Please!

George starts imitating the Jesus painting, suffering, palms together, not too convincing.

Julie frowns:

- What are you doing?

- I´m begging.

- I´m almost felling sorry for you right now.

He tries to make it a little better:

- Is there your sex face going on there? – Julie asks.

George gives up.

- As long as I am out of her subjects I´m fine.  – She continuous.

- Me marring you? You are in her subjects.

- She is my mother, is her duty to make my life miserable for making her eat pork rib and dunots for nine months.  

- She thinks you are marring me because you need a green card--

- And you are a trump who plays piano to get some “mangos”.

- She said that?

- We had this conversation before.

- Mangos? Your mother said mangos?

- She doesn´t even know your name.

- I noticed. She calls me Froot Loops. I never made jingles for Froot Loops. I´m Coco Loco.

- Just tell her you eat your crunches with whisky and she´ll forget all about the jingles.

- I´m going to hell.

- Well that depends if you rather to drink orange juice or whisky.

- I am going to hell.