Vinnie’s mom takes a sip of wine, places her wine glass on the coffee table and taps Vinnie’s dad on his forearm, “Al?”
Vinnie’s dad’s eyes are glued to the TV screen. His brain has a choice of listening to sports announcers babble on about a replay or pick up an incoming message from Vinnie’s mom. Vinnie’s dad’s male brain makes an evolutionary choice, engrained in the male species for millions of years.
Vinnie’s mom recognizes the male evolutionary response. She gets up from the sofa and walks in front of the large screen TV, waves her arms and says, “Al? Al? Al?”
“Marti, can you move so I can see the TV, this is an important part of the game,” pleads Vinnie’s dad.
Vinnie’ mom places her hands on her hips. “I am not moving until you listen to me.”
“Is it important? Opps, let me rephrase that, can we talk after the game?”
“Al, is it a rerun or a live game?”
“Do I have to answer?”
“It’s a rerun, you can watch it anytime. Of course, I’m right,” says Vinnie’s mom.
Vinnie’s dad gives a sheepish smile. “Is it about Vinnie?”
“Is this the best you can do? I will never understand how you are so successful in getting the mob off in court.”
Vinnie’s dad smiles, “You won’t let me use technicalities. Besides, who said I work for the mob?”
“About everybody in the city calls you the mob’s mouthpiece, even Vinnie.”
Vinnie’s dad takes a deep breath, “Will it take long?”
“Dear God, what will I do with you two boys?”
“Are you putting me in the same class as Vinnie?”
“Yes, and Joey and Larry. We need to talk about Vinnie’s family history project. He’s supposed to do interviews this weekend. I’m worried, really worried this time, Al. This is the best time to talk about it because Vinnie is sound asleep.”
Meanwhile in Vinnie’s bedroom . . .
Vinnie’s lying down on his bed. Rupert sits on his belly. Dexter lies next to Vinnie his nose constantly active like an airport’s radar, only this time, Dexter’s nose isn’t searching for air traffic, it’s scanning the air for food sources.
Vinnie has his hands holding on to Rupert. Vinnie says, “Rupert, Mom’s going to make me promise to interview her and dad. Boring, boring, boring. Mrs. Mavis gave us three questions to ask. One, who was your favorite teacher in school? Two, what is the most important thing your parents taught you? And, listen to this one, Buddy, three, what is your favorite childhood memory?” These are all really, really bad, Buddy. You got to help me.”
Vinnie uses his falsetto voice for Rupert’s voice, “I got an idea.”
“Let’s hear it. My brain is tired,” says Vinnie.
“Let’s sneak into the kitchen and get some food so we can think better,” says Rupert.
“No wonder you are the smartest person in the world, Rupert. I forgot I was starving. We need food,” says Vinnie.
Dexter hears the magic word. He lifts himself up, jumps off the bed and walks to the bedroom door. His beagle brain knows it’s only a matter of time before Vinnie and Rupert head commando style into the kitchen.
Meanwhile in the Living Room . . .
“Al, did you hear Dexter bark?”
“I heard a dog bark, but it couldn’t be Dexter. Dexter is asleep on Vinnie’s bed.”
“Did you open the door and check on Vinnie, Al?”
“Ah, I forgot. I was checking the sports scores on my iPhone. A couple of upsets are in the making.”
The microwave goes off. Vinnie’s mom and dad hear the sound of human footsteps and dog paws racing from the kitchen.
“Al, what are we going to do?”
“Want to watch the rest of the game with me?”