Kallan writes songs sometimes.
Actually, that is not correct, because she doesn’t write them down. She sings a few lines of a made-up song about 8000 loudly musical times, and then I call her over and say, “Oh my god, Kallan . . . either come up with some more words or stop singing about how the cheesesteak made a mistake. You are driving me insane and your sister’s head is about to explode.”
Kallan whirls and spins and cartwheels around the room as she thinks, “Fine. I will make up more words.”
And so then over the course of the morning emerges the song of Rayburn the Cheesesteak.
Rayburn the Cheesesteak
Rayburn the Cheesesteak
He got a new job as a telemarketer
Orders for cheap stuff . . .
He would takeRayburn the Cheesesteak
He made a mistake
Rayburn the Cheesesteak
He made a mistakeRayburn the Cheesesteak
Was well on his way to getting rich and happy
By selling “absolutely genuine” stuff
That was all kinds of fakeRayburn the Cheesesteak
He made a mistake
Rayburn the Cheesesteak
He made a mistakeRayburn the Cheesesteak
Texted his mom from work to say hi
She texted back a smiley face
Texted she had plans to bakeHe texted
“OK, bye Mom”
“Don’t turn the oven too hot and get sunburned”
(That’s how Rayburn was . . . he loved his mom)
“LOL Smiley emoticon”Rayburn the Cheesesteak
Daydreamed at his desk about how he and his coworkers
Would be best bowling friends
And share a milkshakeBut then Rayburn the Cheesesteak
He made a mistake
Rayburn the Cheesesteak
He made a mistake
People, if you are a cheesesteak?
Certain precautions you must take
Rayburn the Cheeesteak
He made a mistake
Forgot to introduce himself to people at his new job
Before the lunch breakOops.
Poor Rayburn the Cheesesteak
He made a mistake
Rayburn the Cheesesteak
He made a mistakeThe end.
Plus, his mom was delicious.
“THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE!”
Kallan ignores her sister, “Mom, I’m pretty sure Pink is going to want to sing this song. She looks like a girl who likes a good cheesesteak.”
“THE SONG MAKES NO SENSE! OPPOSABLE THUMBS, KALLAN! OPPOSABLE THUMBS! CHEESESTEAKS CANNOT BE TELEMARKETERS!”
Kallan is surprised, “Ummm . . . Maj? Are you saying that handicapped people cannot be telemarketers? That is very rude of you.”
“BEING A CHEESESTEAK IS NOT A HANDICAP!”
“I think Rayburn would disagree, Maj.”
“OH MY GOD, YOU ARE INSANE! WHO MAKES UP A SONG ABOUT A CHEESESTEAK WHO IS EATEN BY HIS TELEMARKETING CO-WORKERS?”
Kallan extends her hand politely, “Hello, have we met? I am Kallan.”
“AUGH!”
Kallan turns to me, “The co-workers didn’t actually eat all of Rayburn. There was one tough part they set aside, but that didn’t work in the song and I didn’t want to gross people out with the image of his murder remnants being left on his desk chair.”
Maj can’t help herself, “What one tough part?”
Kallan feigns great surprise, “His bellybutton. Obviously. All hard and chewy and not at all suitable for a sandwich.”
“WHY DO I CONTINUE TALKING TO YOU? THEY LEFT HIS BELLYBUTTON IN HIS DESK CHAIR? WHAT ABOUT THE MOTHER’S BELLYBUTTON?”
“What?”
Maj takes a breath and tries to speak reasonably to Kallan, “If the bellybutton of a living Cheesesteak is too hard and chewy to eat, then what about the mother’s bellybutton?”
Kallan reaches for her ponytail, “I stretched it out, and I am using it as a hairband.”
“YOU CAN’T BE THE PERSON WHO ATE THE MOTHER SANDWICH! THAT IS INSANE!”
“And yet you continue to argue as though this is all going to make sense at some point. What’s up with that, Maj?”
“BELLYBUTTONS WOULD NOT STRETCH INTO PONYTAIL HOLDERS!”
Kallan clucks her tongue sadly, “So my hair is being held up by magic, Maj? How is that more sensible than my truth?’
“AUGHGHGHGHGHHHHH! STOP LAUGHING, MOTHER! THIS WHOLE FAMILY IS INSANE. ALSO, BOWLING???”
“Maj, cheesesteaks bowl in my imagination. Rayburn had a special bowling ball with no drilled holes.”
“Wait . . . why does his ball have no holes?”
“Ummm . . . Maj, you already pointed out that Cheesesteaks have no thumbs. Bowling-ball holes would just get filled with cheesy-meat goodness and make a big sticky bowling-lane mess.”
Maj stares at Kallan.
Maj turns to me, “Seriously, Mother? You are just going to sit there giggling? How am I expected to live in a house where this sort of cheesesteak thinking goes unchallenged?”
I giggle some more, “Maj, what do you want me to say?”
“CHALLENGE HER, MOTHER! CHALLENGE HER CLAIMS OF CHEESESTEAK TELEMARKETER BOWLING AND HAIRBANDS MADE OF BELLYBUTTONS AND MOM-CHEESESTEAKS WHO TEXT ABOUT BAKING THEMSELVES. CHALLENGE HER!”
I wipe tears from my eyes, “Oh my gosh, Maj. You make me laugh.”
“I MAKE YOU LAUGH? THAT IS SO ANNOYING BECAUSE I HAVE NOT SAID A SINGLE FOOLISH OR FUNNY THING. TELL KALLAN SHE IS NEVER TO SING THAT INSANE SONG AGAIN. ALL I WANT IS FOR ORDER TO BE RESTORED! RESTORE THE ORDER, MOTHER! I DEMAND ORDER!”
Kallan pretends to pick up a phone, “Yes, hello? You’d like to place an order? Hold on one moment. Rayburn usually answers this phone, but there has been a tragedy.”
Maj is fuming, “I did not ask for that kind of order. What is wrong with her?”
Kallan talks to her invisible customer, “Yes, well let me tell you the story. You have a minute? I wrote a little tune.”
Maj glares at Kallan, “DON’T YOU DARE.”
Kallan dared.
Of course she did.
