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Impulse Reality 109
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SWEET FUCKING CHRIST! THE HOODLUMS OF THE IMPULSE BRING UNTO YOU...
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____ ____ ____
_I_R_ | || |\ \
M E | || |/____/ Grandma
P A | || |\ \ ir file number 109
U L |____||____| |____| released 1.17.01
L I | || |\| | by Al Jiggalo
S T |____||____| |____| we're just fucking with your mind.
E Y even_god_reads_it
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-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-
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I turned my head to look behind me and took notice to the black, worm-like
hairs growing from her thighs. When shaving, my grandmother must think that
her legs stop at the knee. Perhaps this is some ideal pressed upon her during
the depression. After all, all her bickering and complaining revolves around
this era.
"You know, all we had when I was younger [and by younger she means 70] was
ketchup and water. We made soup out of this and didn't have anything like
that luxurious Stouffer's dish you are currently eating"
"Yes, grandma"
"And another thing. Who does your sister think she is with that ring in her
navel. Is she some kind of high priestess of Southern California?!"
"Yes, grandma. In fact, she was responsible for El Nino"
"Oh, well. Never mind then."
You see, my grandmother (my father's mother of course. my mother's mom is far
more sane and tolerant) is quite the old hag. Every time I visit her I am
bombarded with various criticisms and/or imposing views.
It seems that sleeping in until 8:30am is blasphemous.
:::while slamming cabinets downstairs::: "No one sleeps past 8am in this
house. When you go to hell, I am sure Satan will allow it, but not I"
"Yes granny"
And God forbid you interrupt her during Wheel of Fortune or Jeopardy...
Alex Trebeck - "This is considered to be the world's wealthiest street"
Grandma - "Rodeo Drive!"
Me - "It's 5th Avenue"
Grandma - "Damnit you heathen! I was just playing a practical joke. I knew
the answer. Now go eat your ketchup soup like a good little sheltered boy"
"Yes, grandma"
Another wonderful thing about seeing Grandma is the wonderful religious
conversations she spawns from that cobweb filled head of hers...
"You know, God has told me to talk to the trees"
"Oh really Grandma?"
"Yeah, it really helps them cope with the fact that those bastard squirrels
live in their branches. Those bastards...why if I had I shotgun I would just
blast those sons-a--"
"Okay, Grandma. Enough. I got it."
Who am I to even comment, critically, on my grandmother's beahvior. After
all, I have no brain. Well, according to her anyway. See, if you dissagree
with her in anyway you are wrong. No matter what!
"No, I told your aunt that you were suppose to have dinner here first and
then go over to her place!"
"But grandma, I clearly remember you telling her that you didn't have enough
food for me, so I should eat over at her house."
"Do you have a brain?! I always have enough ketchup and water."
I haven't seen my grandmother for a while. However, the socks I know she sent
me for Christmas is enough torture. Why bother actually seeing her face to
face. Cotton goods are all I can handle for the moment...
And that is my grandmother. I feel bad though. The reason she is so crazy was
because my grandfather committed suicide when my dad was nine. I'm sure that
just killed the whole mood of everything previously written, but her
craziness needed to be justified. No go call a mental hospital in the
Westchester, PA area and commit her before squirrels become extinct.
LONG LIVE THE SQUIRRELS!
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OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD! IT WAS ANOTHER FUCKING IR FILE MAN!
Copyright (c) 2001 IMPULSE REALITTY PRESS - http://ir.phonelosers.net
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