Birthday Embarrassment

Sam saw his parents’ car enter the car park and went to the door to let them in.
“Hello Mam, hello Dad,” he said, and led them into the dining room.
“Oh, this is a very nice play room,” said Mam, looking at the toys and the children playing on the floor. “We didn’t expect it to be as nice as this.”
“Oh,” Sam remembered. “I said that you’d be sleeping in the children’s playroom, didn’t I? Not this one. It’s the little playroom at the back.” Sam led them into the small playroom at the back of the house. “This is where you’ll be sleeping.” The big couch in the middle of the room had been made into a double bed.
“Oh, this is nice,” said Mam.
“But now, it’s time for lunch,” said Sam. “Back to the dining room, where we were before.”

Sam returned to the dining room. The table was set for self-service sandwiches and soup. He waited for his parents. After a few minutes he wondered where they were and got up to go to the back of the house to look for them. Mam was using the toilet. Dad was unpacking his suitcase. Sam went back to the dining room.
“Mam’s on the toilet, and Dad’s unpacking his suitcase,” Malcolm told Esther, the mother whose children were playing in the dining room. “When you get older, your parents become like children. You start to look after them, you wonder where they are.” Sam’s parents came to the dining room. They passed the prayer room. Mam saw a sign on the door.
“Keep your filthy mammon lifestyle,” she read aloud. “Oh well, perhaps we shouldn’t give them a donation.” They sat down at the table next to Sam.
“Mam,” said Sam, “you know how I’ve had these spots and acne since I was a teenager? Well, since I came here I’ve been washing my face with this new baby soap I got from the chemist’s.”
“You’re not using the special body wash you were using before?” asked Mam.
“It’s about half the price of the stuff I was using before. My spots have almost disappeared.”
“I can see a spot,” said Mam. “Right there on your chin. And you haven’t shaved properly today.” Sam tried to crack a hard boiled egg by stabbing it with a knife.
“That’s not how you crack a hard boiled egg,” said Mam, seizing the egg and smashing it against the table.
“You’ve made a right mess of that egg,” said Dad. “You should have let him do it.” Sam tried patiently to peel the pieces of egg shell off the damaged egg.

Louise joined them at the table.
“Hello Louise, these are my parents,” said Sam.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Louise.
“Do you have any children?” asked Mam.
“Yes,” said Louise. “Three. Two girls and one boy. They’ve all grown up now.”
“When Sam was a boy,” Dad said, “he came up to his Aunt Eileen at a wedding and said, ‘I’m interested in space, you know.”
“He was always talking about things other people weren’t interested in, or didn’t understand,” said Mam.
“Yes,” said Louise, “our Walter was always like that. No one ever understood what he was talking about, either.”
“He used to have water diviners on his feet. He could find a puddle anywhere,” said Dad. “It was 1976, the year of the drought, and we stopped at the motorway service station. It hadn’t rained for six weeks. Sam got his feet wet, he found a puddle.”
“Yes,” said Louise, “Hannah was always getting her feet wet. What do you want in your birthday cake, Sam?”
“Oh, I like all sorts of things in a cake, oranges, lemons, coconut. I like anything with peaches.”

The next Agape meal after Sam’s birthday they were eating the birthday cake. Louise asked,
“Would anyone like to give Sam some words of wisdom on his birthday?”
“This cake is symbolic of the state of your soul,” said Alfred. “It has a certain amount of good things in it, but it lacks cohesion. It needs to be blended together more to make a perfect whole.”
“This cake is unique,” said Boris. “And you’re fairly unique.”
“It’s a little bit mixed up but it’s nice and sweet,” said Stanley, “and you’re a little bit mixed up and you’re nice and sweet.”
“It was pleasant, but I had a little bit too much of it,” said Louise, “just like I get a little bit too much of you, sometimes. In the prayer meeting, it might be a good idea if you didn’t pray quite so often. There are lots of people waiting to take part and they don’t all have time, and you go on and on with your lengthy prayers.”
“I had a little bit of orange in mine,” said Amos, “and I spat it out. I don’t know what sort of spiritual interpretation people want to put on that.”