Wednesday, February 10, 2010


GRAMMY:  This is a hospital?  It looks like something out of an old Vincent Price movie.  And why the hell are all those vultures circling overhead?  How bad are the doctors here, anyway?

ME:  The doctors are fine, Grammy.  And those aren’t vultures.  They’re crows.

GRAMMY:  Yeah, well if you know anything about birds, you know crows are nothing but smaller, smarter vultures.

ME:  Can we just go inside and get this over with?

GRAMMY:  We?  You’re not the one getting poked and prodded.

ME:  No, but I’ll be listening to you complain.

GRAMMY:  Well, pardon me for living.  I’ll try and drop dead soon so you won’t be inconvenienced.

ME:  No one’s asking you to drop dead, Grammy.

GRAMMY:  Of course not.  That would be rude.  But don’t tell me you’re not hoping.

ME:  That’s nonsense, Grammy.  You and Julius are the only family I have left.

GRAMMY:  Yeah.  And why is that?  What exactly happened to everyone else?  And where is Julius right now?

ME:  He’s been eaten by crows.  Now get your ass in there, old woman, or I’ll cut you into pieces myself!

GRAMMY:  Ooh.  Touchy, aren’t we?  Some people just can’t take a joke.

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I'm Jet . . . said...

uh oh.

don't do it, B.

Diane Mayr said...

I didn't think it was coming so soon. Make it quick and painless, please.

Barbara said...

It's not. I wasn't even thinking of that when I wrote this. (Or maybe I was on a subconscious level) Anyway, Grammy's not going anywhere yet.