Jon arrived home just in time to hear his parents arguing loudly.
"You always seem to find time for your friends," his mother was shouting, "but you never can find time for me!"
"Why can't a guy just be able to relax a few hours a week. After all, I work over 50 hours a week in an extremely stressful job!" his dad replied.
"You can relax... around here with me!" his mother answered.
"Yeah, and watch the movies you want to watch...chick flicks! Or go antiquing! Don't you realize that guys need some time with their friends every once in a while?!"
Jon sighed and marched up to his room. He knew that his father had spent time with his buddy from work, Art Miller, the day before. Art was not Jon's mother's idea of an acceptable friend for his father. He drank too much, gambled, swore, and occasionally puffed a cigar. Manners were in short supply for him as well.
As the shouting intensified, Jon stuck his hand in his pocket and without thinking whispered, "I just wish that Mom could be Dad's best friend."
Suddenly, the shouting downstairs stopped.
"Hmmmm...," Jon wondered, as the significance of the wish he just made dawned on him. "Maybe I've just done some real good with this stone."
He wandered down the stairs and did a double take as he entered the living room.
There, in two lazy boy chairs, that he did not remember having, were his father and Art Miller...or at least Art Miller's head. Below his head was what appeared to be his mother's body, in the very same outfit (dark pink capri pants and white blouse) that he had just seen her wearing. The two of them were watching a football game on TV.
"He makes this field goal, and the Jets can kiss their asses goodbye!" Art/mom was gloating. "Then you can have a quick poke-in-my-hole and titty squeeze before the Bears game starts."
"Sounds great Honey! I could use a quickie, and I'm sure you could too," his Dad replied.
Art then glanced over, noticed Jon, and quickly removed one hand from his crotch where he was making a crude poking motion and his other feminine hand from his left breast, which he was cupping and squeezing.
"Whoops, hey there son...didn't see you come in. Your father and I were just enjoying watching the Jets get their asses kicked. What did you want for supper? I'll be glad to order you a pizza, and in the meantime...come on over and watch the game with us. I'd like to spend some quality time with you today, since your father and I will be hunting all day tomorrow."
As a commercial ended, Jon's "parents" turned back to the screen, and Jon looked around the room. His parents' wedding portrait was where it always stood, but now Art's balding head graced his mother's body. All the other pictures were with Art's head also, including a picture of Art carrying his/her newborn baby (Jon) out of the hospital in a wheelchair, with his breasts extra hefty with milk.
There were some extra pictures as well, of his dad and Art/mom on a whitewater rafting trip and on a fishing expedition with a few other men.
Jon looked back over to his father, who was now hugging Art in exuberation at their team's last second win. They pulled away, with Jon's father copping a quick feel of Art's motherly breasts, then Art took cigars from a nearby counter and lit them up. They both seemed very happy, but Jon felt weird.
Jon reached into his pocket for the stone, but it wasn't there. Instead he felt a hole in his pocket
