A convo with Mom

A conversation between my mom and I, yesterday.

-Hey.

-Can't talk, watching Blart.

*dial tone*

A little later.

-Hey Jess.

-What's up?

-Calling you back.

-Right, do you think vampires are real?

-What?

-Vampires. Real or not?

-Not.

-But if they were, would God love them? Would they be his creatures or Satan's messengers?

-It doesn't matter.

-It does.

-They're not real.

-Mom, listen to this. I bet Native Americans didn't believe that Brits were real. Until one day they just showed up and killed them all. Vampires are our Brits.

*pause... lots of laughter...*

-Mom, stop laughing.

-I can't.

-It makes you think.

-No. It's not the same at all. The indians didn't think about the British at all.

-You're wrong. I bet one was floating around the ocean when an indian spotted him on the horizon. He ran and told his elders about the freakly pale Brit in the distance. His chief called him dumb and told him not to believe in Brits.

-Good try Jess.

-Fine, here's a more realistic scenario. One lonely Indian is pondering the meaning of death. He tells his elder, "Chief, I bet one day a big disease could kill us all, we should be prepared." "Silly Squanto, Nature doesn't have things like that. Go back to painting your face." Then what happens, Mom?

-What?

-Small Pox hits. They all die. Small Pox is our vampire.

-Ok.

-It could happen. I bet it is already.

- I gotta go. bye.

*Dial tone*