MAMMA KEPT SCORE—THE SCRIBE'S MOM

MAMA KEPT SCORE Don could run his mouth for hours, Mama let him have his say, Then she’d tilt her head and warn him, “One day, old man. One day.” He’d laugh like she was bluffing, Like he’d heard it all before, But karma had a waiting list— So Mama kept the score. He pushed his luck one afternoon, Kept giving Mama lip, Kept poking at that final nerve Till something finally slipped. She grabbed that man and picked him up, Walked him straight across the floor, Threw him bodily outside— Then calmly locked the door. Don stood there on the other side Still trying to understand. Mama went about her business Like she hadn’t just removed a man. One day, old man, I’ll get you back. Karma keeps receipts, And Mama keeps track. Laugh if you want, Keep asking for more— Karma might be patient, But Mama keeps score. Now Mama made him lunch one day. “Tuna, Don.” How sweet. He sat himself down happily And started in to eat. He finished off the sandwich, Every single little bite. Mama watched him from across the room, Her face completely polite. Don never knew the difference. Never questioned what he’d had. Meanwhile somewhere in the kitchen The cat was looking mad. He thought he’d eaten tuna. Mama let him think he had. Sometimes what looks like tuna Is better left unasked. One day, old man, I’ll get you back. Karma keeps receipts, And Mama keeps track. You can push your luck, You can ask for some more— Karma might be patient, But Mama keeps score. Then came another masterpiece. Something happened with his back. Mama needed something useful. Apparently supplies were slack. So Mama found a sanitary pad And stuck it on him there. No fuss. No shame. No explanation. Not a single blessed care. Then the nurse walked in and saw it. Nearly had a heart attack. Looked at Don. Looked at Mama. Looked again at Don’s back. Mama didn’t even flinch. Just gave that little grin. Winked at the poor bewildered nurse: “It was all I had.” One day, old man, I’ll get you back. Karma keeps receipts, And Mama keeps track. Cat-food sandwiches, Whatever’s in store— Karma might be patient, But Mama keeps score. Then came the night That Don discovered There are limits to a wife. Because apparently he’d decided Nobody needed sleep that night. Down the hallway came his footsteps. Bedroom light— CLICK. “And one more thing!” He said his piece, Then wandered back again. Five minutes later— Footsteps. CLICK. “And one more thing!” Back he went. Then here he came. Again. CLICK. “And another thing!” We’re lying there thinking, Oh my God, will somebody end this man? Back to the bar. Back down the hall. Click. Speech. Retreat. Again. Again. Again. By trip number ten, Mama sat up. And that meant: Don was beat. She didn’t yell. She didn’t argue. She didn’t threaten him at all. Mama simply got out of bed And walked over to the wall. Unscrewed the light bulb. Put it somewhere. Climbed back beneath the sheet. Three daughters lying in the dark Knew this was gonna be sweet. We waited. Five minutes. Footsteps. Here comes Don again. “AND ONE MORE THING!” He reached the doorway. Hit the switch. Nothing. Hit it back. Still nothing. Up. Down. Up. Down. Click-click-click-click-click. Don stood there in the darkness Getting madder by the flick. Meanwhile three girls under covers Were about to lose their minds. Finally Don snapped: “You think you’re funny, huh? Playing games?” And from somewhere in the darkness Mama calmly said his name. “Don…” Tiny pause. We knew that tone. We knew somebody was doomed. Then Mama said: “We’ll play a game.” And silence filled the room. “It’s called… FIND DON’S DENTURES IN THE DARK.” We LOST it. Absolutely gone. No dignity remained. Three daughters howling in the bedroom, Don regretting every game. He’d wanted “one more thing.” Mama gave him one instead. And strangely, after that announcement, Everyone went to bed. One day, old man, I’ll get you back. Karma keeps receipts, And Mama keeps track. She’ll feed you the cat food, She’ll show you the door, Stick whatever she finds on your back— Then settle the score. One day, old man, She warned you before. You could sit around waiting for karma— But Mama kept score. Don had his dentures. Don had his pride. Usually. He had a wife Who could pick him up And physically put him outside. He had sandwiches Best left unquestioned. And if that bedroom light went out— Don, Take the hint. If she ever smiled and told you, “One day, old man…” Believe her. Because karma may move slowly— Mama didn’t. Mama kept score. The song is meant with love. It remembers the ridiculous moments that made her daughters laugh and the strength behind them. Story & Memories: Anita / The Scribe Concept & Lyrics: Anita with Nola / ChatGPT Music & Vocal Production: Created with Suno AI Artwork: Created with ChatGPT / OpenAI image generation Video Production: The Scribe’s Voice #MamaKeptScore #TheScribesMom #TheScribesVoice