SPT- Visiting Grandma (what a catchy title!) (684 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 1.8 on 12 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Ducky (View user info) at 2005-07-21 09:05:30 EDT
"But I don't want to go!"
"You're going and that's final."
"But she smells funny, like old person perfume and medicine. She'll muss up my hair and pinch my cheeks. She'll talk about her skin polyps and her hernia and her chronic yeast infections. I don't want to go."
"This is not up for discussion. You're going."
My mother is in fine form today. Wild eyed, strung out on prescription meds, and stinking of body odor, it was surprising that she'd even gotten dressed. If you can call a potato sack and an apron dressed. She hurriedly scuttles around the house, making sure for the 50th time that she hasn't left the stove on and that the phone is on the cradle. I used to worry about her, but I realize now that it was a pointless endeavor. Talking to someone only she can see, she rushes past me and goes to the car.
Dragging my feet, defeated, I get in; her driving is appalling. We drive for a good 20 minutes in silence, when suddenly it's broken. I feel myself reeling into the fieriest corner of hell as she begins to sing. Fucking show tunes. She thinks she has a great voice, and I suppose it would be okay if it wasn't nasal sounding and off key. My mother is Edith goddamn Bunker. I purposefully leave my seatbelt undone and pray that the car door will fly open and suck me out. I'd rather be splattered all over the road than here. The door doesn't open. Stupid fucking door.
"I hate you," I say softly under my breath. Or maybe I didn't say it. Maybe I was just thinking it. I imagine smashing her head into the steering wheel. Smashing it until I don't recognize her as my mother anymore. She's smoking. This makes me want one, and at this point I don't care if she knows or not. I pull the crumpled pack out of my pocket, take one, and light it. It's my new favorite thing.
"Put that out at once."
"No."
I can feel myself melting into the seat. The sharp inhale followed by the slow exhale. Smoke tendrils sweep out the open window, and I wish it were that easy for me to follow them. She slowly and deliberately butts her cigarette in the ashtray and eats the filter.
"You're deranged".
"Don't talk to me that way."
As we pull up into the driveway, I look up and take a deep breath. I can see grandma peering through the screen door. Reluctantly I get out of the car, and with a feigned smile on my face, watch as she begins to descend the porch steps to greet us. The house is a death trap. Complete lack of any form of maintenance for the last 20 years has made it condemnable.
As she comes to the fourth step, she hooks her foot on a piece of loose carpeting. Her ankle twists before giving out and she careens off of the steps. A brief shriek followed by a dull cracking sound, then another, and another, and she is lying at the bottom in a steadily growing pool of blood. The third hit was the cincher. The crown of her head made full impact on the edge of the step, splitting it open. I stare dumbly. Her position is so unnatural, so crumpled. My mother cries and runs to her side.
Upon determining that she is indeed dead, she gets up and walks past me. She stops short 10 feet short of the tree line. I can't see her face.
"LOOK WHAT YOU DID" she screams. "HOW COULD YOU? HOW FUCKING COULD YOU?!"
Maybe it was the same person she constantly accused of leaving the stove on. Maybe it was the same person who decided to get rid of all the air in her room one night and fill it with perfume. Maybe it was the person who told her that eating cigarette filters was healthy, and that only wearing one shoe would lead to the path of enlightenment. Who knows?
I need out of this fucking family. I stare at her blankly, and then head inside to call the ambulance.
User Reviews
Submitted by Neener (user info) at 2005-09-02 01:08:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Just cause I love you
Submitted by RandytheHelpfulPineapple (user info) at 2005-07-22 03:58:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Tendril is now my word of the day.
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2005-07-22 03:12:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
thank you for talking about the filename.
Submitted by ruthless (user info) at 2005-07-21 19:55:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
More for you.
Submitted by Ducky (user info) at 2005-07-21 09:51:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Cursing's not clever little man, grow the fuck up.
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hahaha.
Submitted by Danger_Ranger (user info) at 2005-07-21 09:47:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I have seen your camwhores and i don't believe you're the kind of person that uses the 'f' word.
I have hence deduced - through logical conclusion from fact or reason and/or as a result, that this post was written by your litte brother after having left yourself logged on.
Cursing's not clever little man, grow the fuck up.
Submitted by Xcuses (user info) at 2005-07-21 09:46:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
My favorite part:
I purposefully leave my seatbelt undone and pray that the car door will fly open and suck me out. I'd rather be splattered all over the road than here. The door doesn't open. Stupid fucking door.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-07-21 09:42:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
A good story but needed more "Why Grandma, what big teeth you have!"
Submitted by Ducky (user info) at 2005-07-21 09:27:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Great song.
Submitted by MichaelJackson (user info) at 2005-07-21 09:13:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
As the snow flies
On a cold and gray Chicago mornin'
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries
'Cause if there's one thing that she don't need
It's another hungry mouth to feed
In the ghetto
People, don't you understand
The child needs a helping hand
Or he'll grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me,
Are we too blind to see,
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way
Well the world turns
And a hungry little boy with a runny nose
Plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto
And his hunger burns
So he starts to roam the streets at night
And he learns how to steal
And he learns how to fight
In the ghetto
Then one night in desperation
A young man breaks away
He buys a gun, steals a car,
Tries to run, but he don't get far
And his mama cries
As a crowd gathers 'round an angry young man
Face down in the street with a gun in his hand
In the ghetto
As her young man dies,
On a cold and grey Chicago mornin',
Another little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries
In the ghetto
In the ghetto
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2005-07-21 09:12:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
bloody hell!
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2005-07-21 09:07:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
What, no tits?