It was a special day, I was given my first watch - a Timex with a green and blue striped cloth wrist band - and got to go to the neighborhood burger joint with my mom. Now, mind you, this was before there was a McDonalds or Burger King on every street corner, so going out for a burger was a great treat. Fresh ground beef patties and Tillamook cheese grilled to order while you waited.
We ordered-up at the counter, filled our beverage cups and grabbed a table in the small room next to the counter. We sat and talked while we waited for our food. I held my pop in my left hand. The same hand on which I wore my watch.
My mom suddenly broke into a huge grin and asked, "What time is it?"
Without thinking, I twisted the hand holding my pop over so I could read the time on my beloved new watch, tipping my drink. Out spilled the pop, all over the table and me, leaving a brown sticky mess and a hysterically laughing mother.
As I sat there in the cold wetness, my mother was trying to compose herself. She new very well what she was doing when she asked me the time. My own mother, setting me up for a prank. Sick. Twisted. Funny as hell.
This was my mom and her humor. I loved it and wanted it as my own. I have worked it and honed it over the years, but I will never be as good as the master.