Friday, December 4, 2009


GRAMMY:  Here, Barbara.  Two tickets to the Bahamas.  You’re going on vacation.  Everything’s paid for.   You leave tomorrow.

ME:  What?  I can’t leave tomorrow.

GRAMMY:  Why not?  You’re not working.  You have no responsibilities.

ME:  I don’t, but Julius . . . .

GRAMMY:  Julius isn’t going.  He’ll stay here with me.

ME:  But you don’t drive.  He’ll miss school.

GRAMMY:  It’s first grade.  What the hell is he gonna miss?  Now go find a friend, or take that Alfie fella.  Or go alone. But go.

ME:  Why are you doing this for me, Grammy?  You must have an ulterior motive.

GRAMMY:  What the hell motive could I have?  Can’t a person do something nice one in a while?

ME:  A person, yes.  You, I’m not so sure.

GRAMMY:  Forget it then.  Give me back the tickets.

ME:  Okay, I’m sorry.  I’ll go.  I guess I should go home and pack then.

GRAMMY:  Yeah.  I guess you should.

ME:  Well . . . bye, Grammy.  And thanks!

GRAMMY:  Lord, I thought she’d never leave.  Now how the hell do you save a boy in a week?  (sigh) Julius, put that duct tape away.  Your Grammy’s gonna show you how to have some fun.

Stumble Upon Toolbar

1 comment:

Andy said...

Wait! Are you sure Grammy got her tickets to the Bahamas? That looks like snow on that beach/glacier. Oh, Grammy. What are you up to??