I woke up shivering cold with Spider Woman’s arms around me. Too bad mom can’t spin a web because if she could she would be super cool. But she can’t. She’s got chicken fajita breath and she weighs as much as a Ford Mustang. Her hair smells like cigarettes and Chiclets. I’ll always love you, she says. I wait a few seconds then she calls me a son of a bitch. Mom talks in her sleep, talks like an insane asylum inmate on lock down talking to little pink aliens over loud music. Whatever I do it’s never enough, she says. Whatever I do you always look the other way. I was looking at her but mom hates to be mocked so I didn’t wake her up. I listened to her complain about climbing the walls in the heart of January. She hates the holidays. Hates the fact winter is two o’clock. Hates the cost of heat. I made her breakfast, coffee and a Marlboro Red. I lit one too. Pretended to smoke my brains out. I waited for the rain to fall.