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Now available for preorder:
The San Francisco Panorama.
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When People Come to Our House, We Treat Them Like Family.BY JAMIE ALLEN- - - - Joe! Come in! I'm so glad you could visit away from the office. We were just sitting down for a little television. Please, join us. Don't sit there. That's my seat. No one sits in my seat unless I specifically say to sit in my seat. How many times do I have to tell you this? Sit on the floor. What, you're too good to sit on the floor? You know what, Joe, please quit talking so much. We don't sit down in front of the television just so we can miss what is being said on the television. That's sort of stupid, don't you think? I can't hear. Where's the remote? Joe, get up and turn up the sound. What do you mean, no? No, what? No, I don't want to get in trouble? Too late. Go to your room ... What's gotten into Joe? - - - - Mary! Come in! Joanne, Mary from the school is here! She's dressed like a slut! We're just sitting down for dinner, Mary. Wash your hands first, please. It's disgusting that you even consider eating after the places your hands have been. Bathroom? Who am I—God? I don't need to know about your bowel movements. Make sure you wash your hands again when you're done ... Mary! How long are you going to be in there? Your dinner is getting cold! I'm not going to microwave your dinner! Don't complain that it's cold! And I want you to eat every single bite! What's taking you so long in there? - - - - Fired? Mike, I'm sorry, did you say you've been fired from your job? And you want some sympathy from me, your neighbor? Let me ask you something—are you ever going to grow up? What did you do to get fired? Did you have sex with the cashier? Oh, God. Joanne! Come in here! Mike got fired for nailing the cashier again. Don't try to deny it. If anyone knows when you're lying, Mike, it's me! He should be in therapy, Joanne! You should be in therapy, Mike! Joanne thinks you should be in therapy! At the very least, restriction. Give us your car keys. If you can't keep a job, then you certainly can't handle the responsibility of a two-ton car. - - - - Sara, I hate you. Yes, as my mail carrier, you bring my bills and send my letters. But I've been talking with my therapist and we've determined that you are the source of all my problems. It all goes back to you—the way you treated me then, the way you treat me now, the way you always seem too busy to address any extra needs I might dare to have. And I hate you. I hate you! I hate you, I hate you! I'll never forgive you! ... Can I have some money for the movies? - - - - Jim, it's good that you could visit this weekend for the reunion. It's been a long time since we palled around in high school, eh? Those were the days. And I'm glad you're staying the night. Are you comfortable in my bed? Good—now give me a kiss. Jim, don't do that. It hurts my feelings when you turn away. Are you mad at me? Are you mad that I yelled at you during dinner? Or is it because I embarrassed you in front of your little friends? You can't be this sensitive. Life is hard, Jim. I do these things to help you. You mean everything to me. Now give me a kiss. I love you. Good night. And first thing tomorrow morning, don't forget to iron my shirt. - - - - OTHER McSWEENEY'S FEATURES: - - - - When People Come to Our House, We Treat Them Like Family By Jamie AllenIn the Locker Room at Halftime By Zhubin Parang Job Hunt: Day 27 By Jon Fitch What Happened to What You Gave Me By Alysia Gray Painter Cooking with Esther Bangs By Will Layman |
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