wavydavy123
03-19-2013, 08:43 AM
Gran’s Day Out
I don’t usually see my Grandma on Wednesdays, but she was very specific this time. It takes a while to get her to the car: she’s uses a zimmer-frame, and all her demented friends feel the need to say goodbye a dozen times. Come on people, we’re going to dinner, not Papua New Guinea.
Finally I’m driving to the restaurant and she’s telling me about her week. Adventures include steak-pie on Tuesday and Freddy the goldfish dying.
“What did he die of?”
“Stroke.”
As I ponder the surprisingly specific cause of death, she adds, “Take a right.”
“The restaurant’s left, Gran…”
“Take a right,” she says in a way that makes me do as she says.
She directs me from this point, her usual smile replaced by a mouth expression that reminds me of De Niro in Goodfellas just before he starts killing everyone. I follow her directions until we end up in a car park for a bingo hall.
“Bingo?” I ask, “That’s what this is about? Is this your bingo night? We can do bingo. If you had said I wouldn’t have booked the…”
“That’s her!” Gran interrupts manically, “that’s the **** sucker!”
She’s pointing at an obese elderly woman in a motorized wheelchair, buzzing towards the bingo hall.
“Gran….have you taken your pills today, because Doctor Finnestein…”
“Dr Finnestein can go **** himself, Martin!”
“Right.”
“I go round the bingo halls on Wednesdays,” Gran explains, “and sometimes I see that woman that we just saw.”
“The one you called a…the one you shouted at.”
“The one I called a **** sucker, yes.”
“Right. Why is she a…” I mumble the first word, “…sucker?”
“She’s a cheat. A cheat! She sits either on her own or with the people who are too blind to tell she’s cheating. And she almost always wins.”
“How does she cheat?”
“I want you to seduce her, Martin,” Gran says, ignoring me, “I want you to seduce her and prove she’s a cheat.”
“Do I have to seduce her? I mean I could probably find out if she’s a cheat without seducing her.”
Gran mulls it over for a second, “I always thought you should seduce her. But I suppose you don’t have to.”
“I’m not sure I feel comfortable with this.”
“Martin, please,” Gran says, and tries to look sad through her wrinkled face.
Knowing there is no sadder sight that a miserable old person, I agree, and we head for the bingo hall. For a second I think I am making a huge mistake but then I realise the reason for visiting my Gran is to make her happy, and this will do exactly that.
We purchase a set of bingo cards and Gran motions to the woman she described earlier while Gran herself goes to join friends to discuss the latest episode of Countdown. I sit opposite the cheat and introduce myself.
“Come here often?” I ask.
“You’re very handsome,” she replies immediately.
“I’m more of a recreational player myself…”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Really keen to go down this route, aren’t you? Do I have a…uh no…I don’t.”
“Boyfriend?” she enquires with an eyebrow raised.
“What? No.”
“What about a dog?”
“Yes, actually…”
“That’s too bad, cause I was about to ask you out.”
“Oh. Are you allergic?”
“No, I love dogs.”
I look at her obese, wheelchair-bound appearance, my face exhibiting thinly veiled disgust. Soon a piggish man in a tartan suit is telling jokes about people I have never heard of and announcing the start of the game.
The atmosphere becomes tense now as the old folks concentrate fully on getting their numbers. The only noises besides the number announcements are grunts and muted-celebrations occasionally spawning amongst the players, and the loud snoring of one man who is clearly less interested than the rest. I’m pretending to concentrate on my card but in reality my eyes are straining to see what the cheat is doing.
I’m thinking about giving up after thirty minutes of exemplary bingo play. As I am about to do so, the cheat starts shuffling her hands in her coat pockets and I realise it’s a bit odd that she’s wearing a coat at all since the hall is so warm. Then new cards start appearing out of the coat pockets. The cheat begins scribbling on the new cards. I turn round to Gran and nod incessantly.
“Cheat!” Gran shrieks, alerting everyone in the hall.
A docile man sitting next to her says, “You’re meant to say bingo!”
Gran ignores him and heads towards my table. Unaware she was going to make such a scene I feel my face begin to redden in embarrassment.
“This woman is a cheat!” Gran announces, pointing at the wheelchair woman.
“I am not!” the cheat retorts.
“Martin, show them!”
Hesitantly, I murmur, “You did have new cards.”
“Show them, Martin!” Gran repeats.
I go over obediently and try to get into the cheat’s pockets, something she resists, and I find myself for the first time in my life fighting a disabled obese woman. The result of our brawl is dozens of cheat cards falling from her pockets.
The crowd gasps. Gran is laughing madly now, animalistically.
“**** you!” the cheat growls.
“**** me? **** you, cheat!” Gran says, rummaging around in her handbag and I take a double look as she finally reveals a handgun.
“No!” I scream as Gran points the handgun at the cheat and fires twice into her chest, laughing manically.
Two burly bingo security men come and grab my laughing Grandmother as I ponder how I don’t truly know anyone, and what a shame that is.
I don’t usually see my Grandma on Wednesdays, but she was very specific this time. It takes a while to get her to the car: she’s uses a zimmer-frame, and all her demented friends feel the need to say goodbye a dozen times. Come on people, we’re going to dinner, not Papua New Guinea.
Finally I’m driving to the restaurant and she’s telling me about her week. Adventures include steak-pie on Tuesday and Freddy the goldfish dying.
“What did he die of?”
“Stroke.”
As I ponder the surprisingly specific cause of death, she adds, “Take a right.”
“The restaurant’s left, Gran…”
“Take a right,” she says in a way that makes me do as she says.
She directs me from this point, her usual smile replaced by a mouth expression that reminds me of De Niro in Goodfellas just before he starts killing everyone. I follow her directions until we end up in a car park for a bingo hall.
“Bingo?” I ask, “That’s what this is about? Is this your bingo night? We can do bingo. If you had said I wouldn’t have booked the…”
“That’s her!” Gran interrupts manically, “that’s the **** sucker!”
She’s pointing at an obese elderly woman in a motorized wheelchair, buzzing towards the bingo hall.
“Gran….have you taken your pills today, because Doctor Finnestein…”
“Dr Finnestein can go **** himself, Martin!”
“Right.”
“I go round the bingo halls on Wednesdays,” Gran explains, “and sometimes I see that woman that we just saw.”
“The one you called a…the one you shouted at.”
“The one I called a **** sucker, yes.”
“Right. Why is she a…” I mumble the first word, “…sucker?”
“She’s a cheat. A cheat! She sits either on her own or with the people who are too blind to tell she’s cheating. And she almost always wins.”
“How does she cheat?”
“I want you to seduce her, Martin,” Gran says, ignoring me, “I want you to seduce her and prove she’s a cheat.”
“Do I have to seduce her? I mean I could probably find out if she’s a cheat without seducing her.”
Gran mulls it over for a second, “I always thought you should seduce her. But I suppose you don’t have to.”
“I’m not sure I feel comfortable with this.”
“Martin, please,” Gran says, and tries to look sad through her wrinkled face.
Knowing there is no sadder sight that a miserable old person, I agree, and we head for the bingo hall. For a second I think I am making a huge mistake but then I realise the reason for visiting my Gran is to make her happy, and this will do exactly that.
We purchase a set of bingo cards and Gran motions to the woman she described earlier while Gran herself goes to join friends to discuss the latest episode of Countdown. I sit opposite the cheat and introduce myself.
“Come here often?” I ask.
“You’re very handsome,” she replies immediately.
“I’m more of a recreational player myself…”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Really keen to go down this route, aren’t you? Do I have a…uh no…I don’t.”
“Boyfriend?” she enquires with an eyebrow raised.
“What? No.”
“What about a dog?”
“Yes, actually…”
“That’s too bad, cause I was about to ask you out.”
“Oh. Are you allergic?”
“No, I love dogs.”
I look at her obese, wheelchair-bound appearance, my face exhibiting thinly veiled disgust. Soon a piggish man in a tartan suit is telling jokes about people I have never heard of and announcing the start of the game.
The atmosphere becomes tense now as the old folks concentrate fully on getting their numbers. The only noises besides the number announcements are grunts and muted-celebrations occasionally spawning amongst the players, and the loud snoring of one man who is clearly less interested than the rest. I’m pretending to concentrate on my card but in reality my eyes are straining to see what the cheat is doing.
I’m thinking about giving up after thirty minutes of exemplary bingo play. As I am about to do so, the cheat starts shuffling her hands in her coat pockets and I realise it’s a bit odd that she’s wearing a coat at all since the hall is so warm. Then new cards start appearing out of the coat pockets. The cheat begins scribbling on the new cards. I turn round to Gran and nod incessantly.
“Cheat!” Gran shrieks, alerting everyone in the hall.
A docile man sitting next to her says, “You’re meant to say bingo!”
Gran ignores him and heads towards my table. Unaware she was going to make such a scene I feel my face begin to redden in embarrassment.
“This woman is a cheat!” Gran announces, pointing at the wheelchair woman.
“I am not!” the cheat retorts.
“Martin, show them!”
Hesitantly, I murmur, “You did have new cards.”
“Show them, Martin!” Gran repeats.
I go over obediently and try to get into the cheat’s pockets, something she resists, and I find myself for the first time in my life fighting a disabled obese woman. The result of our brawl is dozens of cheat cards falling from her pockets.
The crowd gasps. Gran is laughing madly now, animalistically.
“**** you!” the cheat growls.
“**** me? **** you, cheat!” Gran says, rummaging around in her handbag and I take a double look as she finally reveals a handgun.
“No!” I scream as Gran points the handgun at the cheat and fires twice into her chest, laughing manically.
Two burly bingo security men come and grab my laughing Grandmother as I ponder how I don’t truly know anyone, and what a shame that is.