Me: Yes, mother?

Mum: I didn’t text you, so what does ‘yes, mother’ mean? Mind you, it’s always nice to hear from you.

Me: I had a missed call from you earlier. Was that not you? My phone says it was you, and my phone never lies, mother.

Mum: I didn’t call, and I certainly didn’t call early in the morning. I must have sat on my phone or something.

Me: Have you been murdered? Am I now speaking to the person who killed you after you tried calling me for help? Admit it. You have to tell me if that’s true. Come on, man; don’t be a dick.

Mum: I can’t be a dick, I’m a girl; and also, I’m fairly sure that I’m alive. Maybe it was a call from a parallel world.

Me: But why would they have called me? On purpose, you think; or maybe it was solar interference scrambling the satellite signals. Maybe you were calling me from the future. You can’t disprove that.

Mum: Okay, whatever. I’m busy internet shopping. Don’t make me think, it’s scary.

Me: Yeah, the thought of you thinking does chill me to the bone. Tell your knock-off handbags I said hi.

Mum: Handbags are cheaper than psychiatrists.

Me: In your case, however, they clearly aren’t as effective.

Mum: That’s only because I haven’t found the right one.

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