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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3 comments:
uh oh.
don't do it, B.
I didn't think it was coming so soon. Make it quick and painless, please.
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.
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