I know, I know, I should be working on my other two fics. But I couldn't help it; I've been wanting to write this oneshot for a while now.
A basic explanation is in order, I think. This past spring, I was in my high school's production of Bye Bye Birdie. This is based on a lot of jokes we had during the course of the show. As Doris, my friend Bryan (Harry) and I often pretended we were divorced and that our children were adopted. It was a running gag that the entire play was actually about Rosie and Randolph (you'll find out later). Also, the character descriptions are based on the actors from my version of the production and what we were doing at this point in the play. And the Egypt thing (don't ask) is something our Albert did on closing night.
This was based on a rant that I did once. We were doing these things called the 'Music Theatre Awards' (everyone in the class got an award suited to them), and between awards we'd have 'commercials' in which people could come up and do a song or act for the class. I did this rant about how Mrs. MacAffee really felt and I brought the house down. Sadly, it wasn't for marks, but oh well. Please enjoy 'Doris Finally Snaps.'
*Disclaimer: I don't own Bye Bye Birdie*

"And you don't offer an emperor a warm 7-Up!"

Harry MacAffee had just finished his rant about how much he hated Conrad Birdie, how he was destroying his life, and blah blah blah. Doris had lost track after "I have tried to run this household," since she was trying to warm up the aforementioned soft drink so it would sort of resemble the coffee she hadn't made. Now she looked at her husband, who was glaring and pointing at her, wild-eyed and chest heaving. She looked around her house at her two children: Kim, the only redhead in the family, sitting prettily at the kitchen table admiring herself in a spoon, and Randolph, the world's tallest ten-year-old who looked nothing like his parents. There was a reason for that, although Doris had never said what it was.

She looked back at Harry and inspected him. And finally, all the years of frustration bubbled up inside her. She propped her hands on her hips and glared right back at him.

"Well, you know what, Harry?" she snapped, grabbing the 7-Up off the top of the fridge. "You're not an emperor, so just take your warm 7-Up and deal with it!" she shrieked, shoving it into his hands. Harry looked shocked; she'd never done that in all the years they'd known each other. "I've had it," she continued, "I've just had it! I have had it up to here—" she indicated a spot above her head, then frowned and raised her hand as high as it could go—"no, here with your stupid bipolarness! You have worse mood swings than a pregnant woman! One moment, you're all happy American father, the next you're flipping out because someone didn't put the newspaper away! And your stupid coffee! Maybe if you'd help out a little sometimes, I wouldn't be rushed off my feet trying to keep up! Maybe you'd have your stupid coffee if you'd just give me a hand every now and then! And don't give me anything about 'the woman's place is in the kitchen,'" she continued as Harry opened his mouth. "I am sick of people telling me what to do!"

Rosie, who had walked in on this tirade, quickly headed for Doris before she had an aneurism. "Now, Mrs. MacAffee, it can't have been that bad."

Doris grabbed Rosie's arms in a death grip and locked eyes with her in a desperate stare. "Oh no? Rosie, you've had troubles with Albert for eight years, right?"

"Well, yes, but what does that—"

"Then you ain't got nothin' on me!" Doris screamed, shoving the tall woman away. "I've been married to Harry for eighteen years, and I knew him for twenty before that! He's always been this way!" Rosie was shocked into silence as Doris rounded on her children.

"And there's no use hiding it anymore—kids, you're adopted." Randolph and Kim sat there with their mouths hanging open, and when Harry went forward to stop her, Doris snarled at him. "Oh, shut up, Harry, they have to learn sometime. Kim, you're just some random girl we adopted from an orphanage, and Randolph, you're Rosie's illegitimate son." More staring. "Rosie couldn't keep you so she gave you to us, because my father was friends with her father. I honestly don't know why nobody's noticed!" she added. "I mean, our children look nothing like us, and they never have!"

Doris sank into a chair. "Oh, why do I bother?" she lamented. "No one listens to me anyway. I'm just Mrs. Harry MacAffee, and that's all I'll ever be."

There was silence for a moment. Then Harry said nervously, "Doris, why don't you just relax, and I'll make you some nice coffee."

Wrong thing to say. Doris screamed at the 'c' word. "Dammit, Harry, coffee won't solve anything! I've had it!" she bellowed, leaping up. "I'm leaving you, Harry, and you'll never see me again!"

"Oh, Mr. MacAffee," Albert's voice echoed from upstairs. "I hope you won't mind keeping of the phone for a little while. I'm expecting a couple of long distance calls from New York and Egypt."

"I HOPE YOU DIE OF HEATSTROKE IN EGYPT!" Doris roared, stomping out the door. As she went, she could be heard to be singing, "Eighteen years, eighteen years, that's how long I wasted on him..."

No one ever saw Doris ever again.