Is That Spam?

 

I served Mom her dinner and had just sat down on the living room sofa with my own plate when she asked, “Is this Spam?”

“In the quiche?”

“Yes.  Is it Spam?”

“No.  It’s real ham and pineapple and green onions,” I replied.  “Why do you think Bill would make a quiche with Spam?”

“Because they were talking about it on TV a while ago.  About how more and more people are getting Spam, even if they don’t want it.”

“Why would someone buy Spam if they didn’t want it?”

“Got me,” she replied.  “But more and more people are.”

“Are you sure they were talking about Spam?  Hawaii’s favorite food?”

“Well I don’t know any other food called Spam.”

“Mom, maybe they were talking about electronic spam – you know, junk email from the Internet.  Maybe it was that kind of spam,” I offered.

“Well that doesn’t make any sense.  Why would people get it if they didn’t want it for something?”

“Get what?” Bill asked, coming into the room with his plate.

“Spam,” I replied.

“Oh, we get it all the time,” he said to Mom as he sat down.  “We’re always getting spam emails and spam text messages on our cell phones.  It’s a real pain in the ass.”

“Well if it’s such a pain, why do you get it?  Why don’t you just stop?  You know, turn it off so you don’t get it anymore.” she asked, a frown creasing her brow.  “That’s what I’d do.”

“Oh, gee, well, I never really thought of that before,” he said, looking over at me and rolling his eyes.  “Honey, let’s just stop getting all that useless spam and only get the good stuff .”

“Okey dokey, sweetie,” I replied.  “I’ll go turn it off after dinner.”

“Now, wasn’t that easy?” she said, smiling and nodding as she dug into the ‘sort of Spam’ quiche with renewed vigor while Pat Sajak and Vanna White paraded across the TV.

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