GRAMMY: What are you doing, boy?
JULIUS: Blowing bubbles.
GRAMMY: Really? Just blowing bubbles?
JULIUS: Uh huh.
GRAMMY: So if I look out that window, I’m not gonna see some damn freaky bubble sculpture?
JULIUS: Unh uh.
GRAMMY: And you’re not conducting some God-awful experiment where you trap bugs in bubbles or some other weird stuff?
JULIUS: No.
GRAMMY: So all I’m gonna see are bubbles floating away until they burst?
JULIUS: Uh huh.
GRAMMY: (takes deep breath and looks out window) Well, I’ll be . . . it’s just . . . bubbles.
JULIUS: I told you.
GRAMMY: Yeah, you did. (sigh)
JULIUS: What’s the matter, Grammy?
GRAMMY: Well, it’s kind of a let-down. I was expecting . . . hell, I don’t know what I was expecting.
JULIUS: Wanna try?
GRAMMY: What? Me? Blow bubbles?
JULIUS: It’s fun. It’ll make you happy.
GRAMMY: Oh, right. Like that’ll ever happen.
JULIUS: Try, Grammy.
GRAMMY: Oh, hell, boy. Move over and gimme the stick.
JULIUS: Isn’t it fun?
GRAMMY: Yeah, it is. I tell you what. I’ll blow the bubbles and you take my cigarette and see how many you can pop before your mother gets home.
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4 comments:
what? cigarette?
Grammy's a chain smoker and doesn't go anywhere without her smokes.
Ah hell, Barb, I thought Grammy was going to teach him how to blow bubbles filled with smoke. What a let down...
Damn, I should have thought of that! It would have been so much better.
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