Yesterday I watched On Guard, a film I'd been interested in seeing for some time (Daniel Auteuil is a fun actor to watch). I snuggled up with The Boys, and started this tale of love, loss, revenge, hunchbacks and swordplay. Basically, the cousin of the Duc de Nevers wants him (and his offspring) dead, but Auteuil rescues the daughter and rears her safely amidst a travelling theatre troupe. So far, so good. It's 16 years later, and they're in Paris and hijinks ensue, except... Aurore (the baby at the center of the whole mess) has grown into a beautiful woman, who decides that she's in love with her "Papa", particularly after he tells her that he's not really her father. At the end, when she's restored to her mother and her title and all is well and good with the world, they kiss.
As someone that's potentially in that position, it just skeeves me no end. I mean, there's no reason that I couldn't have that type of relationship with my father, seeing as I'm adopted and all but... he's my father. Blood tie or no, he helped raise me (even taught me to solder and use a sewing machine - such a handy guy!). He's even good looking in a physics-geek kind of way: there's the cutest wedding photo and all that's wrong is there's a carnation where the pocket protector and slide rule should be. But loving him That Way? Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
Then I started yet another book. This one is called The Love Curse of The Rumbaughs, wherein members of the Rumbaugh family are cursed with loving their mothers too much. In a Psycho kind of way. You see, young Ivy (daughter of Julie and either Ab or Dolph, two identical, strange Twins) loves her mother. Just a bit too much. And lucky for her, Ab and Dolph have this nifty taxidermy hobby. They've even stuffed Mama (don't ask how they split her between them). So when Ivy's mother dies it's only natural to do the same. Right? Because burial is just so final. I mean, you can't go home after a long day at work and talk things over with a coffin. But a stuffed mother? Totally.