Grand Jack (aka da' grandfather bomb): Here, Becca. It's Thanksgiving, and since you're a vegetarian, I'm sure your grandmother will be force-feeding you turkey soon. She's even got duct tape hidden up her sleeve. Have more wine, you'll need it.
Becca: No, I'm fine. 2 glasses is enough. Your gingham prints are already making me dizzy, and why is there a stop light in the bathroom? Anymore wine, and I'll be playing frisbee with your massive collection of antique irreplaceable china. Wanna join?
Grand Jack: Let me mix you a drink first. (Pushes secret button. *SWISH*) Check out my liquor cabinet, yet? It's pretty sweet.
Becca: Um... Cabinet? More like your own underground secret lair complete with wine cellar, lazy boy, and plasma tv. Cool!
Yeah, Grand Jack exudes greatness, and he's a saint in my book. The thing that drives me nuts about visiting them is that ever since I can remember, my grandmother's pinched my butt. Everywhere. Like IN PUBLIC. Even when my friends and enemies were around. And, *gasp*, people I didn't even know. Maybe it was cute when I was 3, but when I was 21? She would do it at home too, like when she was just walking by and I was in the kitchen holding the knife of all knives. One quick outstretched arm and PINCH! Grrrr. But I held onto that knife and endured a booty-full of humiliation. I think my emotionally scarred ass deserves a gold star.
No comments:
Post a Comment