I’m concerned. My parents started exhibiting strange behavior shortly after they began binge-watching a certain television show.
My mother talked me into viewing the first few episodes which I admit I liked because of the husky puppies. When the puppies became full-grown huskies or wolves I lost interest. I preferred staring out the sliding glass door and fantasizing that the neighbor’s cat might walk through the backyard. My parents’ conversation interrupted my concentration.
“Do you think the huskies were real or computerized?” my mother asked.
“Both,” my father said although I don’t know how he knew.
Almost every night before my bedtime, I had to listen to their analysis like one of them was in an Intro to Film class.
“Why are the zombies dressed in fur coats for warmth?” my father asked. “The zombies are already dead.”
My mother didn’t have an answer and neither did I.
“Why do most of the fighters use swords instead of bows and arrows?” my father asked.
“Bows and arrows are better for close-up.”
“What I want to know..,” he said. “How do they feed all the soldiers in the army?”
My ears perked up. Mealtime is a definite subject of interest.
“The soldiers are digitalized so they don’t need to eat,” she said.
“Could be, but when Khaleesi forces the soldiers to march through the desert in the middle of nowhere where do they get the food?”
“That’s a lot of rabbits.”
In my dreams.
Then, they had to discuss their favorite characters and name those whom had been killed off. This took ten minutes by my calculations.
I thought they had shut up and I could go to sleep when my mother asked my father,
“Do I refer to you as Your Grace or My Lord?”
I was relieved their behavior was back to normal when they returned to discussing politics, sports and the moles in the backyard. Except I was mistaken.
One afternoon my mother stood at the top of the stairs, and paused. I gave her the “hurry up, it’s time to eat” eye from the kitchen.
She returned my look with a “stop looking at me like a meal ticket” before she spoke.
“I am Wendy Kraemer of Mill Valley and San Francisco. I am the wife of Jim, mother of Nikki and Ben, and mother and pet guardian of all Siberian huskies that have resided in the house of Coblentz/Lowy.”
All I wanted was dinner. No more Game of Thrones.