Happy Mother’s Day from Worker’s Spatula

IvanaMama

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!”

“Oh, thank you so much sweetie, you really didn’t have to…”

“Go on, Mom, open it, open it!”

Worker’s Spatula’s Oakland correspondent watched excitedly as her mother opened up the long box.

“It looks like some kind of bazooka!” exclaimed our correspondent’s mother, sitting up in bed. Our correspondent rolled her eyes:

“Mom, don’t be ignorant, a Kalashnikov and a bazooka are entirely different weapons.”

“Well I’ve never held one of either before, have I?”

“Mom, we’ve got to fight ISIS.”

“I thought we were going out for mimosas!”

“We’re going to have brunch on the flight to Iraq, which I’ve also paid for.”

“Oh shoot, I don’t know about all that. I had really just wanted some mimosas and maybe some avocado toast.”

“Mom, don’t you see, what we’re fighting for is the right of all women to drink mimosas. We’re fighting to the defence of Yezidi children from the fascist ISIS thugs. This is for the Cumartesi Anneleri and the democratic revolution in Turkey, not only the Roja Rizgariyê of the ezilen Kürt halkı. This is the most dialectical Mother’s Day gift I could possibly give you!”

“[REDACTED], I don’t want you to misunderstand me on this, because you know I support you in all your little… projects, but I don’t actually know what some of those words mean. I’m pretty sure a few of them weren’t actually English.”

At this juncture, our Oakland correspondent snatched the rifle from her mother’s hands. “Whatever, Mom.”

“No, I didn’t mean to say I didn’t like it!”

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN, MOM? WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO LIKE SOMETHING? IT’S OBVIOUS THAT YOU DON’T SEE YOUR REFLECTION IN IT! YOU’RE ALIENATED FROM MY WONDERFUL MOTHER’S DAY GIFT OF REVOLUTION, WHICH MEANS I HAVE FAILED AS A DAUGHTER AND AS A REVOLUTIONARY VANGUARD.”

“No, you’re a wonderful voluntary van guard! Really!”

“I don’t WANT to be a voluntarist, mother!” shrieked our correspondent, letting off several rounds into the ceiling in rage. “God, I wish I was never born!”

Our correspondent’s mother sat in silence in her bedroom, watching the dust float down from the bullet holes in the ceiling.

[REDACTED] poked her head back through the doorway sheepishly, “So, um… should I go get the car and we can go get some omelettes or something?”

“That sounds wonderful, sweetie. I’ll just get dressed real quick.”

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY TO ALL OUR COMRADE MOTHERS WHO HAVE MADE US WHO WE ARE TODAY.

SOLIDARITY WITH THE CUMARTESİ ANNELERİ.

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