Son, I need to talk to you.
The text popped up on my phone from my mum.
I stared down at it. A sense of unease prickling up and down my back. I wasn't a teenager masturbating in the bathroom anymore so messages like this tended to fill me with a sense of foreboding.
A million and one things filled my head. Both my Mum and my Dad were getting on a bit and to be honest, their health is not the best.
I quickly dialled her number.
Hello son.
She said cheerily.
What is it you need to talk about Mum? Everything ok?
Oh son. I will tell you when you come down for a visit.
Tell me now, mum.
No no. Don't be daft. You know I don't like the phone.
This is true. My parents come from an era where people hold phones like they are vicious serpents ready to bite. I tried to convince her to talk but she was having none of it.
My imagination was going into overdrive. I knew my brother had been in Hospital lately. Was that it? My Dad had a new hobby of falling over randomly and bashing his head. Was that it? Oh dear. Too many things to consider.
My family are an odd bunch at times. They never want to make a fuss. Which is why I get concerned when they act a bit mysterious. I am half worried that I will pop up for a visit one day and they will tell me I missed my dad's funeral earlier in the week.
Well, I'm missing nothing. I hopped in the car and decided to pay a surprise visit.
In no time at all, I was at their door.
My Dad answered and ushered me in.
You working the day?
He asked merrily.
No, you know I don't work Mondays.
I said it every time but it never stuck. He ushered me into the front room.
I am glad you are here, your Mum's got something to tell you.
My insides turned to ice. This must be bad. I steeled myself for some horrible news. My mum was sitting on the couch looking a little frail when I went in. I could almost see the grim reaper standing in a corner of the room.
Oh hello son, this is a nice surprise!
Yes indeed, I was passing and I thought, what is it Mum wanted to tell me? So I thought I would pop in.
She shook her head and chuckled.
There was no need but... You are here now. Take a seat. I have something to tell you.
I felt a sob bubble up from deep down. Oh man, please don't be terrible news, I thought desperately, despite having that awful sense that it was going to be.
My Mum reached under the table and pulled out a slightly grease-stained 16-inch pizza box. She turned to me, her eyes alight with pleasure and amazement.
See that new Pizza shop that opened at the bottom of the street? They do a "Munchy Box" for 10 pounds. Look at it. Look!
She opened the box and showed me cold greasy leftovers lurking about within.
She pointed at something that looked like a battered goat's penis, then moved her finger over the rest of the box.
Chicken pakora, mushroom pakora, kebab meat, battered sausage, black pudding and chips!
She shook her head in wonderment.
Is that not amazing?!
She said.
I looked at the Munchy Box and then at her in astonishment. My Dad came in at that moment with a cup of tea.
What do you make of it, son? Look at all that meat. For a tenner! Bloody amazing.
I shook my head in slight disbelief.
Aye, that is truly amazing.
Old Bastards.