My grandmother, Lilian, passed away last night and, to be honest, I got a swift kick in the ass to “man up” and face certain things in my life I’ve … Continue reading #Reminiscing in the #RIP room
My friend has been having electrical problems at her house and she says to me, “I ran into your dad the other day, he offered to come by and help.” “Oh really?” “Yeah, he’s such a nice man.” “Yes, he is, he has a big heart. You may, however, want to have an ambulance on standby, just in case you have to kick start it at some point.”
Yeah, he’s not real good with electrical stuff. One time he went down to the basement to change a light bulb, the lights flickered and the next thing I know, Albert Einstein is standing in our living room. Oh, don’t worry, I gave him a snickers bar and he was fine. I think he even managed to figure out how to re-animate a corpse at one point. Not a real comfortable situation for a thirteen year old at two o’clock in the morning when she sees her dead grandma at the foot of her bed.
“I love you too grandma, just don’t eat me.”
My grandma tried to eat me, that just sounds wrong on so many levels. Then again, any conversation that starts with “I want to eat you.” can only go downhill from there.
You totally deserved it. You tortured me.
What about the time you locked me in the basement with your brother after he ate half a dozen bean burritos. That, my friend, was torture. If I had lit a match the whole place would’ve gone up in flames.
I don’t remember that.
Of course you wouldn’t, you’re not the one who almost died from gas asphyxiation.