Short Stories, Long Odds

I tried every day for three months to convince my editor at Boston’s Weekly Dig that I needed to write a social commentary / politics column for the paper. He never took the bait, and I understand why - I was still kind of green, and the sort of stuff I write about doesn’t always fit the tone of the book.

I was, however, still a little miffed when after telling them several stories about my Grampa when he had come to visit Diana and me in Boston, my editor thought it would be great to give him a column.

“That’s pretty funny!” I said. “What’s the title of my column gonna be?”

“Questions for Grampa.”

“You guys aren’t kidding, are you?”

So we did a test with Grampa - we solicited questions from around the office and then I called him and asked him the questions and transcribed his answers. After this I immediately became convinced that it would be blockbuster hit, bigger than that shit the guy from Savage Love spews out - but then the paper got bought and things never materialized.

So it doesn’t go to waste, here is the test we did with Grampa for the appropriately named “Questions for Grampa”:

Grampa: (chuckles) it is now, but it wasn’t when I was in there. We took em all out there and set em on the boat and set em adrift. Even our commanding officer. We didn’t have many. This one time, when we crossed the equator, it was time to join Neptune Rex, and they shaved all our heads, painted us blue, and beat the shit out of us for three days.

WD: Question 2: Grampa, my boyfriend has gotten kind of frigid lately. I can’t figure it out. He used to be an animal and now he’s literally begging off with headaches.

Grampa: Get a new chick..

WD: No, this is a girl and her boyfriend…

Grampa: Ohhh, I see, well, what do you call that thing they use with the batteries in it? A vibrator! Yeah! Get the bunny rabbit! With the batteries! A good one to the $64 dollar question over there in the South Pacific, the captain asked this guy, “What’s the difference between a woman and a battleship?” and he says “I dunno, I’ve never been on a woman with anything less than 21” guns. Hell this battleship has only about 900 6” guns.” The captain says, “Give that man his $64.”

WD: Question #3: Where do babies come from?

Where do babies come from? Huh, from their momma. Mmm. Well, you know the difference between Joe Louis and Santa Claus? They both have colored balls.

The one time this old girl at the bar told me she had a tattoo of a mouse on her leg. I kept looking and looking and she kept raising her skirt higher and higher. Finally I said “I can’t see it!” and she says “Oh, hell, my pussy must have ate it!”

WD: Question #4: Grampa, I live in a neighborhood full of college kids and one of them puked on my car last night. What should I do?

Grampa: One of em puked on your car? Was it a girl or a boy?

WD: I dunno.

Grampa: Give her a dose of crotin oil if you can find out who she was.

WD: Crotin oil?

Grampa: Yeah! It make you shit over the moon, its like a Mickey Finn.

Did you hear the one about the hooker and the little shoe shine boy? Yeah, the little shoe shine boy is shinin’ her shoes, and he’s really getting with it, and he kept lookin’ up her dress at the tattoos on her leg. She said, “well honey, don’t you know those two gentlemen?” Shoeshine says “Yeah, one is Mr., Truman and one’s Mr. Roosevelt, but I don’t know who the feller with the bushy eyebrows is.”
She says “Well that’s John L Louis”

WD: Grampa, what are your thoughts on sports rioting?

Grampa: Shit, I don’t know, they got so much bullshit they ruin the damn town. Shit, in Boston they killed that kid didn’t they?

WD: Yeah.

Grampa: Hmm. Sports writers.

WD: Oh, not sports writers, sports riots

Grampa: Shit, they could use some more of those pepper balls then, on the writers. Well, maybe you guy’s are gonna have another one, so the writers should leave.

WD: Riots, not writers

Grampa: They should arrest the kids they catch rioting. They tear up cars like they was retarded, I’d make em go get their own switch then I’d beat some asses.. shit, I know another good one.

OH, when we got initiated, we had a big shindig, the two captains, told everybody to take their shoes off. They put em in a big sack. Whoever got their shoes out of the bag and put em on got a hundred dollar bill. When people would get close to the bag, the captains would beat the hell out of em, fighting like hell, 200 people trying to get their shoes out of the bag. Maybe they should do that with these damn riots at these sports events. The ones they catch, cops should put their shoes in a bag and have em go at it, let em work their steam off. You understand?

WD: Yes.

Grampa: They’re all drunk anyways, even if they get their shoes out of the bag that buys you another couple of seconds to beat them into not getting their shoes on. Drunks can’t tie laces.