Dinner with my parents is always a joy.

Of course, what is dinner without one of my Mom’s clever (and often disturbingly apropos) parables. My father, businessman extraordinaire, was preaching about how to take the lead on competition when my Mom suddenly interrupted him.

“Oh! Lana, I tell you a story! Okay, so! There’s a man who is running. And there’s a man who is walking. So man who is running and running, he is thinking, ‘Oh! I am winning! I am the best!’”

I nod my head in understanding. I know where this is going.

“But the man who is running doesn’t see there is a man in the sky who is flying!” She flaps her arms…apparently I don’t know what a flying man would look like.

“I get it, Mom. There’s always somebody faster than you.”

“No!” she said emphatically, “Pew, pew! Then somebody shoots down the flying man! Pew pew pew!” At this point, my Dad and I look at each other and burst into hysterical fits of laughter.

After wiping the tears from his face, my Dad added, “So the moral of the story is – learn how to shoot!”

The End.

I can’t express how much I adore my parents. They’re like talking fortune cookies – with a sense of humour.

I am compelled to share my Mom’s other pearls of wisdom (which my sister and I have begun diligently recording):

“Just avoid him. Think of him as a pile of…..shit. Just walk around it. If you try to deal with it, you end up smelling like shit too.”

“It’s not gay, it’s called style!”

“You can date a player…just don’t marry one.”

“I didn’t beat you…I hit you!”

hahaha And people wonder where I get my twisted humour – thank Mom-fucius.